“Crap.” Autumn sits heavily in her chair, hanging her head back on her shoulders, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I bob my head. “I am too.”
“What are we going to do?”
I shrug. “Find a new babysitter, I guess.” It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s probably for the best, for both my kids and my wallet.
Autumn’s brows crash together, staring down the length of her straight nose at me. “I don’t think we need to go that far.”
“Don’t we?”
“No. After going through so much change, Josie needs stability, not a new babysitter. I’ll talk to her.”
I cross the distance to her desk, leaning over it with my hands braced on the edge. “I would think you’d be relieved since you hate getting ‘roped into babysitting’ those who aren’t family. And we’re not family.”
Autumn’s eyes sharpen, her icy-blue eyes taking on a chillier quality that makes my insides shrivel up.
“Knock, knock—whoa, what’s going on?” Megan asks when she swings open the door and steps into the office. “It’s too early for you two to already be at each other’s throats.”
“We’re not,” Autumn and I say at the same time. Then she spits under her breath, “Jinx, asshole.” She swivels her chair to the side, crossing her arms under her chest, the button on her pale blue blouse straining to hold on between her breasts. “What’s up, Megan?”
“Just dropping by to say we’re not going to need a babysitter this weekend, so you’re off the hook,” Megan says. “But thanks anyway.” She gives us one more searching look before she leaves.
I push away from Autumn’s desk with a sigh. “One dollar in the swear jar, and then it’s time to get to work, Ms. Fischer.”
Wednesday afternoon, with my elbow planted on my desk, I rub my brow with increasing agitation. “Can you not throw papers on my desk?” I ask when Autumn flings the stack she had printed out for me, the reports scattering across the surface.
“I don’t know. Can you not be a giant asshole?”
I grab the quite-full swear jar and rattle it before setting it down hard on my desk. Autumn has already had to drop five dollars in it, and we still have three hours left before it’s time to clock out. I shove one of my own dollar bills in the jar in advance and ask, “When have I ever been an asshole?”
From her wallet, Autumn pilfers a few more bills, then stuffs them into the jar. “You’re being an asshole right now.”
At a loss, genuinely wanting to know the answer, I ask, “How?”
Autumn taps her foot. “You’re comfortable leaving your kids with a total stranger for two whole nights while we’re out of state?”
I crack my neck, breathing deeply so I don’t lose my composure. It was a surprise to both of us when Autumn’s Dad invited us to attend a conference in Georgia this coming weekend, where he will be speaking. When her dad found out that she was no longer babysitting for Megan, he assumed Autumn would jump at the chance to go, as she had with all the others. As a new employee, wanting to stay on my boss’ good side, I didn’t feel like I could decline the invitation.
“Mrs. Schwartz came highly recommended,” I tell her, speaking of the woman who nannied for Shayla and James during the summer.
“So? She’ll break a hip the first time she has to chase Sebastian down.”
“Forty-seven isn’t old enough to break a hip.”
Autumn narrows her eyes. She’s going to develop deep wrinkles alarmingly fast for her age. “She’s still a stranger, and the kids need?—”
“Stability. Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first twelve times.” I lean back in my chair, my temples throbbing. “You were a stranger when you watched them the first time, and I trustedyou enough to do it. Even let you take Josephine out on your own.”
“Well…” She turns up her nose. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” I grumble, stuffing another dollar in the jar.
Autumn’s mouth falls open. “See? You’re such an asshole.”
I grind my teeth, organizing the loose papers, and shuffling them back in the right page order. “There’s too much work to get caught up on, and I can’t deal with your temper tantrum right now.”
“I am not throwing a temper tantrum. You’re just being unreasonable.”
