I snatch crayons and coloring books before grabbing a pot of coffee from the station.
"Good morning! I'm Tara. I'll be taking care of you today," I say, giving the coloring books and crayons to the girls. They cheer in delight.
Their nanny smiles her thanks. Then the mother orders for everyone with practiced efficiency.
"I'll get that started right away," I say, already heading toward the kitchen.
Sam's backed up in the kitchen, so I spend the next twenty minutes clearing tables. That's when the hotel's owner, Mr. Johnson, makes a grab for me.
He's dressed in tennis whites, like always. Mr. Johnson’s in his fifties, and handsome in that confident Nantucket way. His tan speaks of endless summer days on his sailboat.
He’s a man who owns millions of dollars of real estate on the island and acts the part.
"Tara!"
"Yes, Mr. Johnson?"
"See that girl on the terrace?" He nods toward the nanny I just encountered sitting with the twins. "Tell her she can't smoke there. Hotel policy."
"Of course."
He steps closer. "You're doing excellent work, Tara. Been here a week, and it's like you've worked here for years."
"Thank you, I?—"
His hand lightly slaps my rear through my uniform skirt. Quick and casual. A jolt of surprise and outrage shoots through me.
"Keep up the good work," he says, walking away like nothing happened.
I stand frozen, my cheeks burning. That crossed a line. Anger and humiliation rise in my throat, but I swallow it down. I need this job. Summer wages plus free room and board got me here, and I can't afford to lose either.
My hands tighten on the coffee pot. I force my breathing steady, shake it off, and head to the terrace.
The nanny leans against the railing with practiced elegance. She looks up as I approach.
"Excuse me," I say politely. "The owner asked me to let you know that smoking isn't allowed on the terrace."
"Ah, Mr. Johnson. Bet he delivered that message with a little extra 'touch' of encouragement?"
My face must give me away.
"You're Tara Thompson, the new girl everyone's been talking about, aren't you? Gossip says you worked at the Taboo Club in Manhattan." She extends her hand. "I'm Chloe Martin. Second summer here as a nanny on the island, which makes me practically a local."
I shake her hand, grateful to meet what could be my first friend on the island.
"So what brings you to sleepy Nantucket?"
"Summer job. Room and board included." I glance back toward the café. "And the tips are even better than promised. But Mr. Johnson..."
Chloe tilts her head. "Word of advice? Never be alone with him. Ever. He interviews summer girls by video for a reason: to check out their looks."
"Has he?—"
"Not me. I work for the Swain-Blacks directly. But I've heard stories."
The weight of this settles over me. I thought fancy coffee orders would be my biggest challenge.
"Thank you for telling me."
