Nanny Makes Three

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White muslin curtains billowed at the open window next to the bed with its burgundy silk coverlet. Alice Ann had picked some dandelions from the yard and wild irises from the pond and placed them in a jar on the dresser.

Gregory followed her in, carrying one suitcase and an open box of books. The room seemed smaller with her in it. The faint scent of her perfume… Her bright hair, her soft laugh, her ultra femininity…it all made him wonder if he’d made a huge mistake. He wouldn’t have worried about Mrs. Blundstone keeping him awake at night. But Alice Ann had begged him to hire Melissa, and knowing he was soon going to upset his daughter about Benny, he’d given in.

He set the suitcase on the bed and lowered the box to the floor. A couple of volumes slid off the top. Picking them up, he glanced at the titles. “Emergency Medicine, Handbook of Alternative Medicine, First Aid for Dummies. Are you studying for a degree?”

“No, just personal interest.” Melissa took the books from him and slotted them into the bookshelf next to the bed.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you settle in,” he said as he backed out of the room. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Back in the kitchen, Gregory shifted stacks of papers and coloring books to the already overflowing sideboard. “Lie down, Maxie,” he growled as the dog followed him back and forth across the room. Maxie retired to her place beneath an old wooden armchair. “Alice Ann, pick up your toys before someone trips on them.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She scrambled to her feet and started to gather up her plastic barn and farm animals. “Did Melissa like the flowers?”

“I loved them,” Melissa said from the doorway. “Thank you.”

Gregory glanced up. “I apologize for the mess.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She cleared a used coffee cup off the table and took it to the sink. “Where do you keep your plates?”

“I’ll show you.” Alice Ann dropped her toys back on the floor and ran to a cupboard. “In here. The spoons and stuff are in this drawer. And the glasses are up there.”

“Can you help me set the table?” Melissa asked, smiling. The girl nodded vigorously and took handfuls of cutlery from the drawer.

“I’m a very plain cook, I’m afraid. This is left over from yesterday.” Gregory drained spaghetti into a bowl and set the casserole dish of Bolognese sauce on the table. A double handful of mixed lettuce leaves constituted a salad. “I’m looking forward to your gourmet cooking.”

Melissa touched her dangly earring. “Yes, well, I like to keep it simple, too.” She cocked her head toward Alice Ann, who had taken her place at the table. “Kids don’t generally like fancy food.”

“Alice Ann is an exception to that rule,” Gregory said, gesturing for Melissa to be seated. “She eats anything.”

The child grinned. “I’m a little piggy. Oink, oink.”

“You’re skinny for a piggy,” Melissa said as she started to scoop noodles into the girl’s bowl. “Say when.”

“When!” Alice Ann shouted after two big forkfuls.

“She eats anything, just not much of it.” Gregory picked a lettuce leaf out of the salad bowl and dropped it on her plate.

Alice Ann ignored it and started twirling spaghetti around her fork. “How old are you, Melissa? Daddy was wondering.”

“I was not.” All he’d said was that Melissa looked awfully young. “It’s not polite to ask,” he told his daughter, adding to Melissa, “I beg your pardon.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Daddy’s eleventy-seven,” Alice Ann informed her.

“He’s aged well.” Melissa handed him the bowl of pasta. “You don’t look a day over eleventy-five.”

“Thirty-seven,” he corrected. “Alice Ann, tonight before bedtime we’ll review your numbers up to one hundred.”

Melissa frowned at him with a little shake of her head that set her feathery earrings fluttering. Was she saying he was too hard on his daughter? He tried to do the right thing, but there was nothing like attempting to understand a small girl to make a grown man feel inadequate. “Alice Ann’s starting school next year,” he explained. “I want her to be as prepared as possible.”

“So I guess you read to her a lot,” Melissa said, taking a bite of salad.

“Of course.” He shifted uncomfortably, recalling his recent battle of wills over Alice Ann’s choice of books.

“He won’t read Charlotte’s Web,” Alice Ann complained. “It was from Grandma Finch and he took it away.”

“You’re not quite old enough for that book,” Gregory said. Saving a pig was all very well in a children’s book, but this was real life, and Gregory didn’t want Alice Ann getting any crazy ideas. He turned to Melissa to change the subject. “How do you know Constance?”