Small town, indeed. I forgot how easily news of any kind travels in a small town like Saltford Bay, like it just floats through the air. In my eight years as a nanny, I always lived in big cities, where people seldom even know their neighbor's name. I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse to have everyone in your business like that.
"Right." I swallow. "I think it went well. I might actually get it."
Saying it out loud makes something in my chest flutter with a mixture of half excitement, half pure fear.
Teaching English Lit has always been the plan. The real goal. The one I let go all those years ago. The one I should have held on to, but kind of released, little by little.
"But even if I get the job, Mrs. Harriman doesn’t retire before the end of the school year, so I need work until then. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily."
Belinda's entire body stills and her gleaming pixie eyes become predatory sharp. Her mouth curves like she's a shark smelling blood in the water. Not that I think sharks smile. But if they did, they would look like Belinda Everdeen right now.
"Are you actively looking?" she asks. "For more work, I mean?"
"Yes," I say warily. Belinda is seriously creeping me out right now. "I love working here, but the hours aren't enough. I'm comfortable financially since the house is paid off and I have a severance package from my last nanny position, but it's not like I can afford to coast until next September."
Neither of us say anything more for a moment, then Belinda nods, and her smile turns so feral I almost shiver. I swear pixies evolved from foxes or something equally small and dangerous.
"Hmm." Belinda tilts her head. "Would you be open to another nanny job?"
My spine goes stiff. I follow her gaze to the corner where Zoe and Matthew are arguing quietly, yet intensely over who gets to sit in the purple bean chair. The purple one is apparently essential. The pink unicorn one is a crime against humanity.
I should say no.
I should say I'm moving on. I should say I'm not doing this anymore. I should say I'm going to be a teacher and build a life that is my own and stop slipping back into the role that always makes me feel useful and safe and… temporary.
But I look at those kids.
And I think about Zoe calling herself a stupid, selfish kid. I think about Matthew and his eager, open face and his big, open heart. His big heart that was broken into pieces that still need picking up.
Belinda reads my hesitation like it's printed on my forehead.
"Your daughter doesn't know me," I say.
"But I do." Belinda's tone is certain. "And Rika needs help, Noah. Real help."
Here's a fact I don't like to admit, even to myself. The truth is, those are the magic words for me.Need.I need to be needed.
Belinda steps closer like a predator going in for the kill.
"Come for an interview tonight. After class. I'll drop the kids off at Rika's, and you can just join me. Just a conversation. No commitment."
I hesitate. "Showing up unannounced for an interview without being invited is—"
Belinda waves a hand like I'm being dramatic. "Rika asked me if I knew anyone who would be interested in the position. She will be delighted to see you, believe me."
That line should make me nervous. I should be wary of the way Belinda blinks repeatedly as she speaks or the way her left wing twitches at her back.
But that offer is as tempting as a plate of warm brownies after a thousand-mile hike.
"Okay, then," I hear myself say. "I'll go with you for an interview. But only if your daughter agrees to it first."
Belinda's grin is instant. Triumphant. "Good. I'll text Rika right now."
The front door chimes again.
The first tween arrives with an armful of attitude and a backpack that looks heavier than their body. They pause in the doorway and scan the room like they're deciding whether yoga is worth the social risk.
I straighten automatically, sliding into that calm, welcoming version of myself that knows how to handle groups of kids.
