Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I totally get that.” Mabel hesitated. “Are you sad about the guy?”
I looked out the window, where I watched a young family cross the street, a little girl on the dad’s shoulders, a little boy holding his mom’s hand. My heart ached fiercely. “I’m sad I wasted a year of my life on him. But I’m not sad it’s over.”
“Other fish in the sea, right?”
“I’m not worried about that right now. I think I’m better off alone for the time being.”
“You sound like Austin—that’s my brother. He’s the one who needs a nanny this summer.”
“Ari told me about the dig. That’s awesome.”
She smiled. “It is awesome—for me. But it leaves my brother with no help.”
“And he’s got twins, right?”
“Yep. Boy and a girl, age seven. They’re high-energy, but they’re funny and sweet and smart, and—” The alarm on Mabel’s phone went off, and she pulled it from her purse. “Shoot. That’s all the time I have. Okay, listen. I know we just met and all, but I feel like you’d be perfect for the job. Can you come up to the house later and meet my brother and the kids?”
“Sure.” I wondered about the missing link—the twins’ mom—but I didn’t want to ask.
“Great,” she said, sliding out from the booth. “The address is right there on the flyer.”
About fifteen minutes later, I followed the directions Ari had written down for me on the back of the flyer and walked the three blocks to the Buckley house. Gus, Larry, Willene and Bubba, and even Steve offered to drive me, but I said I could walk.
Sutton Street was uphill from Main Street, and I was warm in my dress—the sun was just starting to sink, and the temperature still hovered in the low seventies. Probably I should have gone back to the inn to change my clothes, but I hadn’t wanted to waste any time—showing up so soon would demonstrate how eager I was to get the job, right?
When I reached the address, I stood on the sidewalk for a moment and studied it. The two-story, white-painted house was charming and old-fashioned, almost storybook-like with its pretty front porch with the lattice skirt and gingerbread trim. It jogged a memory—my grandparents had lived in a house like this, but theirs was on a farm, and my mother had taken me there to visit once when I was little. We’d ridden on a bus overnight to get there, my mother tense and quiet, while I pretended I was on a grand adventure. The next thing I remembered was waiting in the living room and petting their dog while a terrible argument raged in the kitchen.
We were only there a short time, and we never went back.
Taking a deep breath for courage, I marched up the walk and climbed the porch steps. The wooden front door was open, so I knocked on the frame of the screen. A moment later, two kids came bounding down the stairs and stood in front of me.
“Hi, there,” I said, giving them a smile and a wave.
One of them—a girl with gorgeous red-gold hair, looked me over head to foot. “Are you trick-or-treating?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “No.”
“Then how come you’re wearing that costume?” The little boy with the huge dark eyes and a fresh haircut pointed at my dress.
“Actually, this isn’t a costume.”
“Are you here to marry our dad?” the girl asked.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, but just then, a wide-shouldered, dark-haired guy appeared behind them, and I thought maybe I’d spoken too soon.
Apart from the stern expression and furrowed brow, he didn’t look anything like Captain von Trapp. He had close-cropped scruff, wore a ball cap, and his jeans were dirty. He was definitely their dad—he had the same brown eyes as his son, and the boyish ears that stuck out just slightly. The muscular arms and brawny chest weren’t too far off my splitting-rails-man fantasy, although this guy was wearing a shirt. It said Two Buckleys Home Improvement on it. The armpits were dark with sweat.
“Can I help you?” His eyes traveled over my attire.
“Um, I’m Veronica Sutton. I’m here about the job.”
“The job?” His expression was blank.
“Yes. The nanny job?” I showed him the flyer.
He pushed open the screen door and took the paper from me. As he read it, his face went from baffled to irritated. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.”
“You’re not looking for a nanny?”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Yes, we are, Daddy. Remember?” The little girl tugged on his shirt. “Aunt Mabel is leaving to go on a dig.”
“A dig is like treasure hunting,” the little boy told me with wide eyes. “And you get paid to do it.”
Just then, Mabel came rushing up behind the man, holding a rubber spatula in her hand. “Veronica! You’re here!”
I blanched at the surprise in her tone. “Aren’t I supposed to be?”