Trent
“IT’S NOT FUNNY, TRENT. I know that smirk. You’re trying not to laugh.” Fanny McDonald, my kid’s nanny huffed. “Justlookat this.” She held up a pair of slacks and pointed to the stain. “What does that look like to you.
I burst out laughing then kept trying to hold up my hand in apology. Only, my shoulders shook each time I tried. We stood in the hallway outside my study and with tomorrow being her day off, she’d cornered me on my way out.
“You’re supposed to be a father and you’re guffawing like a teenager.” She pursed her lips, as her cheeks turned a bright red. “At my age, I don’t have time for this silly nonsense, especially when it embarrasses me in front of the entire bingo hall,” she scolded. “Maybe it’s time you found another nanny.”
I immediately sobered. “I truly am sorry, Fanny. I’ll speak to him.” I couldn’t lose her.
While Brenton was like a mini version of Manhattan, all the nanny services I had on speed dial, had blacklisted me. They would never help me even if I offered to triple the fee. My son, Nicky Shaw, was any nanny’s worst nightmare. He knew every trick under the sun to get rid of nannies and where others had failed, he’d reinvent it.
“Nicky!” My stern voice, the one I hardly used on the kids, echoed through the house. I glanced at Fanny’s miffed features, trying hard to look apologetic. She followed me into the study but refused the seat I gestured to.
The fifty-six-year-old woman was a friend of my butler’s wife and took the job because she needed the money. After her son had died in an accident, her daughter-in-law kicked her out. In the last six months she’d weathered all of Nicky’s tricks until he accepted she was there to stay. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to annoy her and it looked like he’d finally managed to do something even I couldn’t help laughing at.
“Daddy?” Nicky appeared at the door, took one look at Fanny, and immediately his face fell. I knew that expression all too well—one of remorse mixed with a hint of charm and puppy-dog eyes—a family trait apparently. I grinned inwardly not wanting to upset her any further.
“Jesus, Nicky, this has got to be one of the worst stunts you’ve pulled,” I hoped I sounded firm enough for Fanny. I stank at being the rigid parent—it was never needed. But this required a little discipline to make her stay.
“It’s just a little chocolate,” he counted. “I didn’t know she was going to sit on that chair. Promise.” I didn’t believe him and judging by her sharp inhale, neither did Fanny.
“Chocolate. A little,” she shrieked going red in the face and Nicky flinched.
“Calm down, Fanny,” I consoled. The last thing I needed was a heart attack on my hands.
“Don’t you tell me to calm down, boy,” she scolded. “The entire bingo hall thinks I crapped my pants. They think I’m an old fart who can’t make it to the damn bathroom in time. She held up the white slacks with the large brown stain at the rear. She hadn’t washed it and I could easily see why someone would think she’d crapped herself. “Does that look like a little to you?”
More like a slab if I knew my son. I rolled my lips to keep from laughing, imagining what the poor lady had gone through. “I’m sorry—”
“Your son made me a walking—” she broke off on a deep inhale. “Do you know what they’re calling me?” She scowled, her gaze darting between me and Nicky. We both just stared at her, not attempting to answer. “Fanny McShitty,” she screeched.
“Shit.”Oops.Dropping my head, I covered my mouth, squeezing hard to hold the laughter in but I wasn’t fooling Fanny. She cursed and I looked at her. “I’ll make it up to.”
“How?” She glared at me.
“I’ll contribute toward your charity work at the community center,” I offered. Her face lit up. On her days off, she volunteered at the center on various projects. “And if it helps, I’ll come down to the bingo hall and explain to everyone what happened.” Slowly, she nodded as if not entirely convinced by the suggestion. I went a little further. “And an extra week’s pay this month?” That just about did it. A small smile evened out the wrinkles around her mouth. “Happy?”
“What about him.” She pointed to Nicky. “Surely, he deserves some punishment.” Nicky crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. “Don’t pout, young man,” even though she scolded him, I didn’t miss her telltale smile.
Rubbing my jaw, I neared him and ruffled his hair. “What do you think your punishment should be, champ?”
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything, dad,” he huffed.
“And I suppose the chocolate grew legs and decided to jump onto her chair.” I cocked a brow at him. “A man owns up to his mistakes, Nicky.”
“Fine,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor.
“How about him washing my car every week for two months,” Fanny suggested.
Nicky looked up. There was an immediate spark of interest on his face. I glanced at Fanny with a smile. I knew what she was doing. No matter what Nicky did to her, her annoyance was always short-livid. I had no complaints with her care, she loved my kids and treated them well.
“What do say, champ?”
“I suppose,” he sighed.
I chuckled, not buying his pretense. Fanny’s prized possession was a 1967 Shelby GT500 and even though she got offers for the car when she had no money, she refused to sell. It was the last remaining link to her husband. The first time she drove it to work, Nicky went apeshit over the car. Even my Lambo that he loved, took second place for his affection. Her suggestion was a well-played strategy to guarantee he’d never trick her again. Somehow, I didn’t believe Nicky would stop.
“Then it’s settled,” I said, and she nodded. “Fanny, would you excuse us for a minute, please.”
