“Good morning,” he said, with a tiny inhale of breath.
She could tell it was an impulse to relieve some sort of stress. His shoulders were tight, his chest puffing out a bit with his breath. He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was the kind of smile that someone gives a stranger on the street, not a nanny who had just spent the night in his house. She worried that her presence bothered him as she recounted last night. She’d gone over and over it in her head, in her bed last night, losing sleep as she thought about her presence at supper, and she hoped with everything inside her that she hadn’t imposed.
“I’m going to be working from the home office this morning,” he said. “The snow has blocked in my car. If you can please keep the noise down over my way, it would be appreciated.” Funny—she remembered making that wish last night for him to get snowed in, but now she wished that she hadn’t.
“Oh. Okay. Is everything all right?” she asked.
“It’s fine. I just needed to get into the office today. Oh, and Andy Simpson will be stopping by briefly to meet with me. She, thank God, can get her car out. Neither of us think we can get into the office, but she can get here since the main roads are clear.”
Carrie’s head felt heavy and cloudy with the news that Andy would be coming to the house. She wanted to go back to her room and make herself more presentable, not wanting to look or feel any more inferior when Andy came by, but now that he’d already seen her, it would be odd, and the kids were ready for breakfast anyway. They came barreling down the hallway, Olivia’s giggles bouncing off the walls as they made their way to the staircase. When they got there, they both looked at Carrie, smiles on their faces. Although their welcome lifted her spirits, they’d barely acknowledged that Adam was standing there.
“Can you say hello to your daddy?” Carrie asked, her eyes darting to Adam with concern.
Both children looked up at him through their lashes bashfully, their chins down. Olivia offered a little smile as David said, “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hello,” he said back to them. Carrie could sense a lapse in confidence when he said it. It was subtle, as if he were trying not to show it, but it was there on his face. It hit her with a thud because she knew the feeling so well. It was the same feeling she had when she was with him. She could almost sense the thoughts in his head—how he didn’t know the right words to say, how to react appropriately. He wanted to be good at it—he was so good at work—but he just didn’t know how to be good at this. That’s what she guessed, anyway.
“We have to be very quiet for your daddy today,” she told them, trying to fill the silence that had fallen between them. “Olivia, do you think you can keep your grandma Joyce quiet today?” Olivia giggled. “David, how about Grandpa Bruce? Think he can be quiet?” David’s eyes darted around the floor, as if he were thinking of real ways to keep his grandfather quiet. “We’ll do our best,” she said to Adam with a smile.
“Thank you.” There was something in his eyes as he said the words, almost as if he were taking in her methodology, learning how she spoke to the children. He had a curious expression, his face soft and interested. There was something so attractive about him when looked at her like that; it was undeniable what she felt. Even if it was unprofessional, she couldn’t help it. He walked past them, the children stepping closer to Carrie to let him by, and disappeared around the corner.
When they got downstairs, they had breakfast, and the house was completely quiet. It was still early, so they tiptoed to the playroom where Carrie pulled out a bag she’d brought with her. On the drive between North Carolina and Virginia, she’d stopped at a few craft stores. She loved craft stores. She collected little things she could find at a reduced price—wooden boxes for painting, canvases that were two for a dollar, crayons, whatever was on sale. In a craft store she’d found after taking a stretch break at the Emporia exit, just inside Virginia, she’d bought these soft, canvas stockings.
“I have lots of Christmas paint,” she said, pulling the stockings out of the bag and setting them on the art table. “I’ll draw on some holly leaves if you’d like and you all can do the berries with your fingers. When they’re dry, if the snow clears, we can take them to the candy shop and fill them up with Christmas candy. How does that sound?”
The children both nodded, their eyes the size of quarters and their mouths hanging open in surprise. Olivia was already reaching for the red paint. “It’s sparkly!” she said, opening the top.