Read Online Small-Town Nanny by Lee Tobin McClain - Free Book Online
Authors: Lee Tobin McClain
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wasnât going to be as easy as heâd hoped.
* * *
The next day, Susan stood at the kitchen counter scooping deli salads into bowls. Even though sheâd turned down Samâs offer of an apron to protect her church clothesâwhich, hello, consisted of a faded denim skirt with a lime-green tee and sneakers, hardly designer duds that needed special careâshe still felt uncomfortable and out of place. She was used to grabbing a bagel with friends or fixing herself a peanut butter sandwich after church. Fixing a family lunch in a big, fancy kitchen was way out of her comfort zone.
Since she attended the same church as Sam and Mindy, it had made sense to all go together. Uncomfortable with the intimacy of that, sheâd made a beeline for her singles group friends once theyâd gotten there, but she hadnât had a choice about a ride home, which had included a stop at the grocery store for supplies.
It was all too, too domestic. And Sam had been entirely too appealing during the grocery story visit, brawny arms straining his golf shirt, thoughtfully discussing salad options with the deli clerk, whose name he remembered and whose children he asked about.
And since Sunday dinner was, quote, the most important meal of the week, here she was helping to cook it, or at least dish it up. Though she didnât see the point of setting the table and putting deli food into serving dishes when all Mindy wanted was to play in the pool.
Through the window, she studied Sam and Mindy, side by side on the deck while Sam grilled chicken. He was talking seriously to her, explaining the knobs on the gas grill and putting out a restrictive arm when she came too close.
Sam. What a character. He might be the head of an empire, able to boss around his employees and make each day go according to plan, but he wasnât going to be able to control everything that happened in his own home. Not with a kid. Kids were never predictable.
And he couldnât control her, either. She had to maintain some sense of independence or the cage door would shut on her, just as it had almost done with her former fiancé. Encouraged by her father, theyâd gotten engaged too quickly, before they knew each other well. Once Frank had found out what she was really like, he hadnât wanted her. And sheâd been guiltily, giddily happy to get free.
She wasnât the marrying kind. And this stint in a housewifely role was temporary, just long enough to help her family financially.
From the front of the house, she heard a female voice. âYoo-hoo! Surprise!â
Susan spun toward the sound, accidentally flinging a spoonful of macaroni salad on the floor in the process. âIn here,â she called. Then she grabbed a paper towel to clean up the dabs of macaroni scattered across the floor.
âWho are you ?â asked a voice above her.
âIt must be some of the hired help, Mama,â said a male voice.
Susan paused in her wiping and looked up to see a yacht-club-looking, silver-haired couple. She gave the floor a last swipe, rinsed her hands and then turned to face them as she dried her hands on the dishtowel. âHi, Iâm Susan. Mindyâs summer nanny. Who are you?â She softened the question with a smile.
âI didnât know he was hiring someone,â the woman said, frowning. âHe should have asked me. I know several nice young women who could have helped out.â
âNow, Mama, maybe thereâs a reason he wanted to do things his own way.â The man looked meaningfully at Susan. âWeâre Mindyâs grandparents,â he explained. âWe like to pop in when we can on Sundays.â
âThat macaroni salad is from Shop Giant?â the woman asked, picking up the container and studying it. Then she walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and scanned the contents.
Susan took a breath. There was no reason to feel defensive of this kitchen; it wasnât
* * *
The next day, Susan stood at the kitchen counter scooping deli salads into bowls. Even though sheâd turned down Samâs offer of an apron to protect her church clothesâwhich, hello, consisted of a faded denim skirt with a lime-green tee and sneakers, hardly designer duds that needed special careâshe still felt uncomfortable and out of place. She was used to grabbing a bagel with friends or fixing herself a peanut butter sandwich after church. Fixing a family lunch in a big, fancy kitchen was way out of her comfort zone.
Since she attended the same church as Sam and Mindy, it had made sense to all go together. Uncomfortable with the intimacy of that, sheâd made a beeline for her singles group friends once theyâd gotten there, but she hadnât had a choice about a ride home, which had included a stop at the grocery store for supplies.
It was all too, too domestic. And Sam had been entirely too appealing during the grocery story visit, brawny arms straining his golf shirt, thoughtfully discussing salad options with the deli clerk, whose name he remembered and whose children he asked about.
And since Sunday dinner was, quote, the most important meal of the week, here she was helping to cook it, or at least dish it up. Though she didnât see the point of setting the table and putting deli food into serving dishes when all Mindy wanted was to play in the pool.
Through the window, she studied Sam and Mindy, side by side on the deck while Sam grilled chicken. He was talking seriously to her, explaining the knobs on the gas grill and putting out a restrictive arm when she came too close.
Sam. What a character. He might be the head of an empire, able to boss around his employees and make each day go according to plan, but he wasnât going to be able to control everything that happened in his own home. Not with a kid. Kids were never predictable.
And he couldnât control her, either. She had to maintain some sense of independence or the cage door would shut on her, just as it had almost done with her former fiancé. Encouraged by her father, theyâd gotten engaged too quickly, before they knew each other well. Once Frank had found out what she was really like, he hadnât wanted her. And sheâd been guiltily, giddily happy to get free.
She wasnât the marrying kind. And this stint in a housewifely role was temporary, just long enough to help her family financially.
From the front of the house, she heard a female voice. âYoo-hoo! Surprise!â
Susan spun toward the sound, accidentally flinging a spoonful of macaroni salad on the floor in the process. âIn here,â she called. Then she grabbed a paper towel to clean up the dabs of macaroni scattered across the floor.
âWho are you ?â asked a voice above her.
âIt must be some of the hired help, Mama,â said a male voice.
Susan paused in her wiping and looked up to see a yacht-club-looking, silver-haired couple. She gave the floor a last swipe, rinsed her hands and then turned to face them as she dried her hands on the dishtowel. âHi, Iâm Susan. Mindyâs summer nanny. Who are you?â She softened the question with a smile.
âI didnât know he was hiring someone,â the woman said, frowning. âHe should have asked me. I know several nice young women who could have helped out.â
âNow, Mama, maybe thereâs a reason he wanted to do things his own way.â The man looked meaningfully at Susan. âWeâre Mindyâs grandparents,â he explained. âWe like to pop in when we can on Sundays.â
âThat macaroni salad is from Shop Giant?â the woman asked, picking up the container and studying it. Then she walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and scanned the contents.
Susan took a breath. There was no reason to feel defensive of this kitchen; it wasnât
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