She’d had to spend a Christmas alone in her apartment before, and without any kids around, she found it to be so lonely. She’d woken on Christmas morning, her little tree looking the same as it had the night before—no surprises or plates with leftover cookie crumbs from Santa. Nothing. Just the hum of the heater and the quiet of being alone. Suddenly, Carrie wanted to see the Fletcher kids right away; she could hardly wait to meet them.
“The kids are in the playroom. Would you like to meet them?” Adam said as if reading her mind. “Then we can chat about the specifics of the position.” He opened a door in the hallway and pulled out a wooden hanger that matched all the others in the closet. “May I take your coat?”
Carrie shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. She unwrapped her scarf and pulled off her gloves. With every layer, she felt more exposed. She caught herself wondering if her outfit was up to par. Did she have scuffs on her shoes? They were surely wet and discolored from the snow outside. What must her hair look like covered in melting snow? Nervously, she tucked it behind her ear. Why was she so worried about appearances? Usually, she was covered in spit up, cloth diapers draped on her shoulders, sock feet. She’d never worried about how she looked before. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew why she suddenly cared. Because, for some unknown reason, she wanted to look nice in front of Adam. A wave of guilt washed over her. This feeling was something she’d never experienced before, and the unprofessionalism of it made her feel awful. She reminded herself why she was there: the children. They were her number one priority, and if she wanted to do the job right, she’d better stop thinking so much about what she looked like and more about how she was going to care for them.
The problem was, she wasn’t used to being around a man at all. She didn’t ever go out, and every time she thought about it, it made her feel like she hadn’t been as good as her friends at making decisions in life, so she’d stopped trying, feeling hopeless. She’d found a great book called Getting Back to Basics: Life Outside of Work, but she hadn’t had a chance to try any of the suggestions. One suggestion was to join some sort of club and plan one night a week to devote to it. The problem was that every time she tried, one of the kids needed her, and she felt guilty leaving them, so she’d stayed with them. In the end, Carrie would rather be with them than at a book group. Was there something wrong with her?
“The playroom is this way,” he pointed down the hallway.
Adam’s demeanor dripped with confidence. He had a way about him that seemed strong and self-assured—she didn’t know if it was his walk or the way he held his shoulders, but she could sense it just by looking at him. Carrie fiddled with her fingers, feeling small in comparison.
“It’s Natalie’s last day with us. She’s found a full-time position,” he said, smiling cordially in her direction. “You’ll be taking over tomorrow.” He looked down at her, causing her heart to pound. She’d have to get herself together if she planned to work at the Fletchers’ for any length of time. She couldn’t go into some sort of nervous fit every time Adam was in the vicinity. She definitely had to get a life. She should be able to stand confidently next to a handsome man and not lose her mind.
They arrived at the door, and he turned the handle to let them in. Carrie had to stifle a gasp as she peered inside the room. It looked like something out of a storybook. Every toy was neatly displayed on dark wood library shelves that stretched the height of the ceiling, a rolling ladder poised on a track that circled the room. There were rocking horses that resembled carousel horses, enormous foam blocks in one corner, an art table bigger than her car. A young woman sat on the floor beside the kids as she delicately balanced a block on the top of a tower of multicolored blocks. Her dark, shiny hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail at the back of her neck, every strand of hair in place. She wore a light blue, fitted sweater, with a pressed, white collar and cuffs peeking out from under it. A strand of pearls hung delicately at her neck. Her face was smooth, and she had a gentle but controlled expression. That must be Natalie, Carrie thought.
Next to her, a little boy was dressed in a tiny pair of jeans, with socks that matched the red of his sweater. His hair was dark blond like his daddy’s, and curled around his ears. He had big gray eyes and a round face. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he steadied a wobbling block. He tried to keep it from falling, and by accident knocked it off. Carrie could see the tension in his shoulders as he blew air out of his thin pink lips. He picked the block up off the floor and studied the tower to find a better spot. Carrie noticed the tight grip he had around the block, the way his toes moved inside his socks as he focused on the tower, and she thought that the little boy was carrying a lot of worry. She understood about worry—she worried so much about how she could fix her own life that she’d stopped thinking about actually living it.