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)
“What do you mean by intense?” I pictured stern, no-nonsense Captain von Trapp.
“He’s just kind of . . . serious,” she finished. “All work, no play.”
“He didn’t do all that much work in high school,” said Willene drily. “Trust me, I was his social studies teacher three years in a row.” Then she sighed. “But he sure grew up handsome. All those Buckley boys did.”
“Those kids had it tough,” Gus said. “Lost their mom so young and all.”
“He put in a real nice split rail fence for us last year when I was laid-up because of my back,” said Bubba. “Did good work. Nice wood.”
“She doesn’t care about his wood, Bubba.” His wife smacked his shoulder. “She wants a job.”
I might care about his wood, I thought, picturing a hot, shirtless guy chopping wood and then putting up a split rail fence, sweat glistening on his tanned pecs. Neil was slim and fit, but he hadn’t been exciting in bed—at least, not when I was in it. And honestly, he’d been ignoring me sexually for months. I’d assumed he was just busy and distracted with work, but now I knew better.
“Mabel was supposed to be the nanny this summer,” Ari explained, “but she just got this amazing offer to assist on some kind of archaeological dig in Virginia. She’s really into that stuff.”
“That’s cool,” I said studying the flyer more closely.
Wanted: Summer nanny for twins, age 7. Accommodations provided. Must have childcare experience, cooking skills, own transportation.
“Well, that’s that,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t have any of those things.”
“You could at least interview,” Ari suggested. “Mabel said he’s pretty desperate, and she feels terrible for abandoning them.”
I looked at the address and phone number listed at the bottom and gasped. “Hey, they live on Sutton Street! Sutton is my last name.”
“It’s a sign,” Willene said, knocking on the counter again.
I decided she was right and that I’d ignored enough of them. “I suppose there’s no harm in applying. It’s not like I have any better ideas.”
Ari grinned. “I’ll call her.”
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a red vinyl booth at the back of Moe’s when a petite, dark-haired woman rushed through the door and ran over to give Ari a hug. Ari pointed in my direction, and I sat up a little taller and waved.
Mabel waved back, had a brief conversation with Ari, and hurried over to where I sat, saying hello to at least three people on the way. She wore cut-off jean shorts and a T-shirt that said William & Mary.
“Hi,” she said, sliding in across from me and holding out one hand over the table. “I’m Mabel.”
“Veronica.” I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. Sorry I’m a little out of breath. I was trying to do like ten things at once—pack my things, mind the kids, get dinner ready—but when Ari called and said there was someone interested in the nanny job, I dropped everything and raced up here.”
“I appreciate it,” I said.
“So.” Her smile was warm and genuine. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the day.”
I laughed. “You can say that again.”
“Ari told me what happened.” She shook her head, dark ponytail wagging. “It’s like a movie or something.”
“Not the one I’d have chosen to star in.”
“What kind of movie would you have picked?”
“A musical,” I said right away.
Her eyes widened behind the lenses of her tortoiseshell glasses. “I love musicals. What’s your favorite?”
I gasped. “Torture me, why don’t you! But if I had to pick, I’d say Hamilton.”
“Ob. Sessed.” Mabel held up her hands. “That’s my favorite too.”
“For a couple months, I ushered at the theater where it played in New York,” I told her. “I got to see it every night. And I was friends with some of the ensemble.”
She moaned with envy. “That’s amazing.”
“I grew up dancing, and dance is such an important part of that show. It’s not just like, ‘oh, characters are happy, so now comes a happy dance,’ it’s like the choreography truly moves the story forward,” I said rapturously. “It carries emotional weight, just like the music, just like the lyrics.”
“Did you ever audition to be in it?”
“No.” I laughed and shrugged. “Unfortunately, I am completely tone deaf. Precision? Technique? Musicality? I’m your girl. But you do not want to hear me sing.”
Mabel laughed. “Ari said you were a Rockette.”
I nodded. “For eight seasons. Then my mom got sick, and I moved back home to care for her. After she died, I got engaged and moved to Chicago—that’s where my fiancé lives. Well, my ex-fiancé.”
“And you don’t want to go back there?”
“No.” I shook my head. “And I wouldn’t be welcome.”
“Why stay here? Why not go back to New York?”
“I’ll probably do that eventually,” I said. “But I kind of like the idea of trying someplace new for a minute. Maybe somewhere slower-paced and quieter. A place where I can catch my breath.”