Eleanor & Grey(35)

The sweat stains beneath my armpits were disgusting. If I had raised my hand, the whole room would be able to tell exactly how unprepared I was that afternoon.

Thank God for extra-strength deodorant.

I pulled out my cell phone and sent Shay a quick text.

Me: I’m sweating like I stole something. I’m so not prepared for this interview.

Shay: Fake it till you make it! You got this!

Me: There’s not enough faking it in the world to help me make it through this.

Shay: $65k for a nannying position, Ellie. You can fake it that much. Promise.

Sigh. She wasn’t wrong.

When I had applied for the position, I’d received more details on the job, and needless to say, it would be the highest-paying nannying job I’d ever had. Susan had paid me thirty thousand dollars; this was more than doubled that.

I’d already daydreamed about how I’d spend that money, how I could send some to help out my father, the trips I’d take, the credit cards I’d pay off.

Now if only I could get through the next half-an-hour without running out the door.

I shut off my phone and went back to tapping my fingers against my much-too-exposed thigh. Gosh, is this room stuffy, or is it just me? No, the room was stuffy. None of the windows in the living room were open, which wasn’t shocking seeing how it was the beginning of January. Still, they could’ve turned down the heat a bit. How was anyone able to breathe in that space without any fresh air coming in? We were just inhaling and exhaling the same dirty air nonstop.

The waiting was the worst part. It felt like we were all just sitting in limbo. I couldn’t wait to be moved from the waiting room to the dining room for round one of the interview.

Round one.

Seriously, who had more than one round of interviews for a nannying position? We’d already had background checks done through the nanny agency. Why did I have to meet with one family member first, and then another after that?

I’d been nannying since I was eighteen, and I was certain that wasn’t the norm at all, even in Chicago.

Who exactly was the employer? Susan hadn’t mentioned a name, and when I’d emailed the address she’d given me, it had gone through to the employer’s assistant.

Was Beyoncé behind that door? Would I be taking Blue Ivy and the twins for afternoon walks while their parents ran the world?

It all seemed a bit odd to me, but whatever. For $65,ooo a year they could be as odd as they wished.

“Eleanor Gable?” a voice called out, and I looked up toward the sound.

My arm skyrocketed into the air and I hollered, “Present!”

Heads turned my way, and eyes glanced at my armpit.

Gross, Ellie. Put that away.

I lowered my arm and got to my feet. After clearing my throat, I said, “I’m Eleanor?” My tone almost made it sound like a question.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m sure. I am Eleanor.”

The woman looked at me and smiled. She was older, maybe in her late sixties, and even though I was being weird, she still looked hopeful. “Hi, I’m Claire. Please follow me back.”

I started in her direction while mentally beating myself up.

Did I honestly raise my hand and yell present?

What is wrong with me?

I shouldn’t have been allowed around other humans.

I fit in much better with fictional characters.

The dining room was just like the living room—massive. There were built-in cabinets that held stunning fine china, which the family probably never used outside of holidays. The table sat at least ten people, which made me think they hosted often. It had such a bohemian look to it, as if it had been carved right in their backyard and then set in their dining room. It was beautiful.

Bohemian dining room table was now on my bucket list.

“So,” Claire said, taking a seat as she stared at my resume, “it seems you have quite a bit of nannying experience. Plus, Susan spoke so highly of you.”

I sat beside her and inhaled deeply. “I do. I’ve been at it for a very long time. I nannied while I went to night school and got my degree in early childhood education, and then when I realized working in daycares wasn’t my cup of tea, I decided to stick to nannying.”

She nodded and wrote something down in her notebook.

What was she writing?

I hadn’t said anything interesting enough to be written down.

I shifted around in my seat, and I swore my butt cheeks were sticking to the chair.

If I made it out of this interview with a scrap of my dignity, I was going to buy myself a new skirt.

“And this is something you’re passionate about?” she asked. “Nannying?”

“Very much so. I’ve always had a passion for working with kids, even when I was a kid myself. I started babysitting when I was sixteen, and ever since then, I’ve known I wanted to be a part of shaping the lives of children. Plus, my mother was a nanny, so I guess it kind of runs in the family.”

That sounded good.

Write that down, Claire.

My foot kept tapping against the floor and I fiddled with my fingers.

“And before working for Susan, you nannied in Florida? Is that home base?”

“Oh, well, no. My father and I moved down there when I was a kid, just before my mother passed away, but a few years ago, I found my way back to Illinois. In my mind, this has always been home. This is where I belong.” I cleared my throat and tried to ignore my sweating.