Page 8 of Nanny for the Firefighters
Will hands me the chicken carbonara, and I devour it like I haven't eaten in days.
Before I know it, we've got Lily tucked in her little crib, falling asleep to her father reading Goodnight Moon, that little fist of hers wrapped tightly in his shirt like she's afraid to let go. Once she's out, we take the baby monitor and move downstairs to the small stack of applications for the interviews tomorrow.
We've each compiled a list of questions, but the lot doesn't seem as promising as we hoped.
Then, I remember the girl from the diner. The one with the beautiful dark eyes with long lashes, soft caramel skin, and sweet mouth. Man, her rejection stung— she was one of the few out there who made something soft stir inside me. Can't say I liked it, but I'm not opposed to the idea of love. She, on the other hand… I shrug on reflex. Maybe she'd make a better nanny than a girlfriend. She'd mentioned being one, at any rate.
"Hey, I met a girl at the diner the other day—Ella."
"Ella," Theo teases. "Someone sounds smitten."
I give a mock guffaw, although he's not too far off from the truth. "Nah, just listen. Something about her stuck out."
"Not enough to keep you from giving Jessica and Shannon your number."
I wave my hand at him. "I'm just saying. She was unusual."
"As in, she turned you down?" Marcus asks, tapping the end of his pen against the file in front of him. One I should be filling out from the call earlier.
"Not exactly. But you know I don't kiss and tell. What the ladies and I do is personal and not for public consumption."
"Unless it is," interjects Theo.
"Unless it is," I say, grinning. Some girls are freaky and like a little voyeurism. Who am I to deny them what they like?
"Does she have a name?" Marcus asks.
"She does, indeed. But you all haven't earned it yet." I cross my arms and lean back in my seat.
"Unless you think she'd make a good nanny, now's not the time." Will stares at his copies of the possible nannies in question. "Who knew this would look like such a mess?"
Marcus wipes a hand down his face. "Not just a good one, but one who will stick around."
"We'll find someone," I offer.
But the next morning, the interviews are a disaster.
One is an overbearing, grandmotherly type who pinches my cheeks so hard, I swear they're bruised. And the rose pink lipstick marks on Marcus's scruffy face make me feel like I got off easy.
Another is an overly-enthusiastic college grad who has taken a lot of theory but doesn't have any practical experience. When it was time to change Lily, she nearly dropped from the smell.
The third is unnervingly quiet, and her purse rattles with what looks like small animal skull figurines.
I shake my head in defeat. Was this really all Harborview has to offer? "We need to do better. Expand our reach to neighboring towns, maybe even one of the big cities. We might have to offer room and board."
A buzz sounds around the table, and each of our phones lights up with a news alert.
The Verity Vixen has struck again. A masked vigilante has made themselves known in the small town of Harborview by protecting its most vulnerable citizens. Multiple reports have come in about two-timing husbands, homewreckers, small-time con artists, and controlling and abusive partners.
Apparently, this Verity Vixen has freed more than a dozen people from terrible situations and they don't seem to be slowing down anytime soon. I can appreciate that kind of work, that kind of justice.
Several social media posts and comments support the Vixen's work and provide examples of how effective they are at their quest. Plenty of others offer the Vixen suggestions for their next target.
An idea dawns on me.
"Hey, guys. You know what we need? Someone like this Vixen to protect Lily. You know, keep her—and us—safe from Vanessa."
They stare at me for a moment before Marcus says, "Think there's any way to find out how she operates?"