A Christmas to Remember(2)

She didn’t want to look over at the house for fear that she’d make eye contact with him through a window. She’d been sitting outside for the last five minutes, waiting for her watch to tick over to four thirty, which was the precise time he’d asked her to come by. She didn’t want to be early or late, so she’d driven there in enough time to give herself a few minutes to spare. She’d sat in her car, reading her most recent purchase: Managing Anxiety: How to Overcome Life’s Little Worries.

“I was waiting for four thirty,” she said honestly.

“Well, it’s freezing. Please hang up and come in.”

“Okay…Bye.” She clicked off her phone and dropped it into her handbag, embarrassment creeping in faster than the cold air outside. How ridiculous must she look sitting outside in the car? How long had he watched her? Had he seen her reading, catching the drips on her coffee cup with her bottom lip as they slid underneath the lid? The humiliation made her temples ache. The snow was collecting in large quantities now at the base of her windshield. Carrie pulled her coat up around her chin and turned the engine off, the snow falling so hard that it was coming down sideways, dropping flakes the size of quarters onto her car. With her hands wrapped around her coffee cup, she drank the last sip as she looked across the wide, snow-filled yard to the house that would be her residence for the upcoming weeks.

The house was easily in the multi-million dollar range. Houses in this part of Richmond weren’t cheap, and this one had to be somewhere at the top of the list. The whole thing was painted brick—white like the snow—which set it apart from the other homes nearby. It had wings on each side, and, as she squinted to see through the falling snowflakes, it looked like an original slate roof. It was still in the city, but outside of the downtown area enough that it had a yard and sidewalks lined with trees. The road snaked alongside the James River like an old friend, bending and turning just the same. Every home on this road was bigger than Carrie had ever seen in real life, and the expansive lot at the Fletchers’ made the house seem even bigger. She’d never worked in a home that grand before.

Adam Fletcher had seemed a bit formal, but he was pleasant, and had given her no indication that he was so wealthy. Why would he, though? she thought. She wasn’t even inside yet and her hands were jittering all over the place. She fumbled her empty coffee cup, sending it into the air, but she caught it and set it in the cup holder, glancing over to the windows to ensure he hadn’t seen.

Getting coffee had been her “something familiar.” She’d read that when she was anxious, she should do something familiar to ease her nerves. Since she’d arrived in Richmond earlier than expected, she drove through the city, squeezing down narrow side streets and following the small city blocks until she’d found a coffee shop. Even with the time she’d spent trying to get a parking spot, when half the parallel spots were full of plowed snow, she’d been able to stop for a cup of coffee. It was an unfussy, little shop with burlap bags of coffee against the counter, the whole place smelling of roasted beans. There were a few quaint wooden tables and chairs nestled in the corner against a chalkboard full of pastel lettering. Noticing the time, she passed on sitting at the little table, although she’d wanted to, and took her coffee to go. The coffee hadn’t helped to calm her, though. Perhaps she hadn’t picked the right familiar thing to do. With children, Carrie was a natural—but in her own life, she felt helpless.

When it came to her personal life, Carrie felt as though she could never quite get it right. And this time of year was always the worst. At Christmas, when everyone spent time with their families, she either spent her time working, or she went home to her mother and father. While she loved her parents dearly, she wanted her own family to come home to. She wanted children, a loving husband—a family with whom she could make new memories as perfect as those of her childhood. She wanted a giant Christmas tree and stockings on the fireplace. She wanted to make cookies for Santa and catch her kids peeking at the presents under the tree. But the more she worked, the more hopeless she felt because she just didn’t know how to achieve what she wanted.

Ten years ago, when she was twenty-three, Carrie had graduated with an early childhood degree and jumped right into her first nanny position quickly. She found that she was fairly successful as a live-in nanny, and she enjoyed it, so that was what she’d spent the past decade doing. She’d taken the kids to the park in the summer, eating picnic lunches on blankets, flying kites in the breeze. She’d taken them ice skating at the outdoor rinks, laughing with them as they attempted to stand, looking like Bambi on ice, their little legs slipping out from under them. She’d made muffins for breakfast with them and homemade bread for dinner. She’d painted, constructed, colored, and cut—each creation so unique and perfect that she struggled to take it off the refrigerator when it got old. She loved being a nanny. The only problem with it was that now, at the age of thirty-three, having worked around the clock every single day and night with other families, she’d never had the chance to have a life outside of work. She hadn’t dated anyone seriously, and she hadn’t been able to learn who she wanted to be.