Insert eye roll.
After I left Mrs. Abbott’s office, post getting shit canned—Rose’s words, not mine—I drove straight home and broke the news. Rose consoled me briefly before pivoting into a full blown, deep seated rage.
She has been plotting my return to education ever since.
She’s told me more than once not to worry about the money, insisting she’ll be fine until I find another job. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I would ever stiff her on rent.
I can get by for the next month or two, but starting tomorrow, I really need to kick it into gear and find a job as soon as possible. Rose and I finish eating, and I hustle to get our dishes washed so we can finish our episode of Jeopardy.
————
After bidding Rose goodnight, I make sure her front door is locked before heading out. My flip flops slap against the wet grass as I cross the lawn, then climb the stairs to my studio apartment directly above the detached garage.
Though her home is older, Rose has kept it, and this apartment in pristine condition. The carpet is a dated shade of blue, but it’s spotless. The space came furnished with a queen bed on a wooden frame,matching nightstands, and a small bistro table with chairs. On the opposite wall, there’s a kitchenette and bathroom.
It’s exactly what I need. No more, no less. I just have to find a way to keep it, because I refuse to take advantage of Rose. I know she’s comfortable financially, but that comfort includes the money she makes from renting this place.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m kicking my shoes off at the door. I slide it out to see who’s calling me on a Sunday night. My lip tugs up in the corner when I see the name on the screen.
“Good evening, this is Ivy,” I say in an overly serious tone—my standard greeting whenever Sophie calls.
“Good evening,” she replies, the joy in her voice unmistakable.
“What’s got you all jazzed up?” I ask, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull my mess of waves into a knot at the top of my head.
“I found you a job!” Sophie nearly screams.
I stop, frowning. Either in confusion or disbelief. “Uh, come again?”
“I found a job for you. It pays more too,” she adds smugly.
“I’m not selling feet pics Soph. I'm not that desperate.” I pause, then reconsider. “Yet. I mean, I’m not saying people who sell pictures of their feet are desperate. More power to them, you know? I just feel like that’s a mental hurdle I’d personally have to overco–”
“Ivy!” Sophie interrupts. “Jesus, I’m not suggesting you sell pictures of yourself. You’d probably make a killing though,” She says through a giggle.
“Then what?” I press, about to start yelling if she doesn’t spit it out.
“A nanny,” she finally says.
I can hear the smile in her voice.
That’s definitely not what I was expecting her to say. I don’t immediately hate the idea, especially for more money, but who does she know that needs a nanny?
“Um, I don't know if I want to work for a fancy person who can afford a nanny. Also, what if the kids suck?” I think out loud as I plop down on the edge of my bed.
“Well this person isn’t fancy, although he can afford a nanny and then some.” She scoffs. “And I can guarantee the kid, only one, doesn’t suck. In fact, she’s probably the coolest kid in the world.”
“Then spit it out, damn you!” I demand.
“My brother Wes’s nanny quit on him on super short notice, and he needs to find a replacement ASAP. The child is my niece, Lilah, you know the one I'm always showing you pictures of? He would need you from the morning until the early evening on the weekdays, plus some overnights on the weekends when he works late.” She pauses before adding, “He has a guest room that would be all ours on those nights.”
I bob my head back and forth, contemplating. “I haven’t met Wes right?” I ask her, trying to recall.
I’ve been to a couple weekend family dinners at her parents’ house, and I’ve met two of Sophie’s three brothers, but the third has never been there when I have.
The Coopers really are the nicest people. They’re warm and welcoming, and they have that knack for making you feel like you’re part of the family the second you walk through the door. So if Wes is anything like them, it should be okay.
I definitely remember Maverick—Sophie’s twin. His hair is a little darker than her bright blonde, and he’s tall. He’s got that easy charm, too. He probably charms the pants right off anyone with those little smirks he wears, except for me unfortunately. Probably because he looks so much like Sophie. He just didn’t do it for me. Not for lack of trying on his part, though.
