The Nanny Diaries (17 page)

I awake five hours later to a very patient George waiting at the end of my bed for breakfast. He tilts his head and meows. "Been on a bender?" he seems to ask. I pad to the kitchen in my very rumpled black chiffon to feed George and make some coffee. I open the freezer and see the green glow of the phone frombehindtheicetrays.

"Numberof callsreceived:12,"thefacereads. Oh,Lord.I make somecoffeeandgositonmybedtolistentothemessagesonmymachine. "Hi, again. Hope I'm not repeating myself. So, Mr. X has decided he won't be able to make it toAspen

and I really don't want to be out thereby myself. The groom and the groundsman live all the waydown the road and, well, I'd feel very isolated. So I'll be in the city. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you could

come in a fewdays aweek.How's Mondayforyou?Let me know.Thenumber hereagainis?

I don't eventhinkor chant. I justreassemblethephoneanddialthenumberfortheLyford CayInn.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. X?Hi,it's Nanny.Howareyou?"

"Oh God, the weather here is just awful. Mr. X hasjbarely been able to play a round of golf and now

he'll be missing his skiing, as well. Grayer's been trapped inside the whole time, and they promised us someone full-time, like last year, but there's a shortage or something. I don't know what I'm going to do."I canhearPocahon-tasinthebackground."So,didyougetmymessage?"

"Yes." I bracemypoundingtemples betweenmythumb andpinkyfinger.

"You know,I think there's something wrong with your phone.You really should haveit looked at. I was

trying to call you all morning.Anyway, Mr. X is leaving today, but I'm staying the weekend and won't

bebackuntilMonday. Ourplanegetsinateleven, socouldyoumeet usattheapartmentatnoon?"

"Well, actually". armuffs?I already made plans since I wasn't supposed t?start back until the last

Mondayof themonth."

"Oh.Couldntyouatleastgive me aweekor two?"

"Well, thethingis?

"Can you hold on a moment?" It sounds like she's put her hand over the phone. "We don't have another

video." Mr. X sayssomethingI can't quitemakeout. "Well,playitforhimagain,"shehisses.

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"Urn,Mrs. X?"

"Yes?"

I know we'll be having this conversation for the next thirty-six hours unless I reach for a small white

one. "I took your suggestion about Paris. So I can't start back until, let's see, two weeks from Monday. Until the eighteenth." No to say yes. "Also, we didn't really have time before you left to discuss how muchmoreanhour I'd begettingthis year."

"Uh-huh?"

"Well, typicallyI goup twodollarsevery January. I hopethat's not a problem."

"Well... No, no, of course. I'll talk to Mr. X. Also, I'd appreciate it if you could go by the apartment

tomorrow. ou know,while you're outandabout. ndrefill thehumidifiers."

"Um, I'm actuallygoingtobeontheWestSide, so?

"Great!Seeyouintwoweeks. Butpleasedoletmeknowif youcanstartanysooner."

James holds the door open as I pass. "Happy New Year, Nanny. What're you doin' back so soon?" He

seems surprisedtoseeme.

"Mrs. X needsherhumidifiers filled,"I say.

"Oh,doesshenow?" Hegives a wickedgrin.

The first thing I notice when I open the Xes' front door is that the heat is actually on. I step slowly into

the silence, feeling a bit like a thief. I am just slipping my arms out of my coat when Ella Fitzgerald's

"Miss Otis Regrets" comes blaringoutof thestereosystem.

I freeze. "Hello?" I call. I clutch my backpack and follow the wall into the kitchen, hoping to grab a

knife. I've heard about doormen in buildings like this using the apartments when the tenantsare away. I

swing openthekitchendoor.

There's anopenbottleof DomPerignononthecounter,pots are

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bubblingonthestove. Whatkindofsickpersonstealsintoanapartmenttocook?

"It's not ready yet. Ce n'est pas fini," a man says in a thick French accent as he emerges from the maid's

bathroomdryinghis handsonhis checkedtrousersandadjustinghiswhite chef's coat.

"Whoareyou?" I ask over themusic,taking a step backwardtowardthe door. Helooksup.

"Qtti estvows?" heasks,puttinghis handsonhis hips.

"Um, I workhere.Whoareyou!"

"Je m'appelle Pierre. Your mistress hired me to faire le diner." He returns to chopping fennel. The

kitchenis a phantasmofproductivity anddelicious aromas. It's never lookedsohappy.

"Whyyoustandtherelike a fish?Go."Hewaves hisknifeatme.

I leavethekitchentogofindMrs. X.

I cannot believe she's back. Of course, why bother to call Nanny? Ooh no, it's not like I have anything

better to do than keep her oil paintings moist. Oh, oh, I am definitely not working tonight if that's her game. It's probably just one, big ruse to get me to work. She's probably got Grayer tied up in a net over thehumidifierandisplanningtodrophimonmyheadtheminuteI pourthewaterin.

"SHE RANTOTHE MANWHOHADLED HER SO FARASTRAY," the stereo blares, following me fromroomtoroom.

Well, fine. I'll justlether knowI camebylikeI saidI wouldandthenI'm outofhere.

"Hello?" I practicallyleap rightout ofmyskin.Theresheis,struttingoutof thebedroom, asilkkimono

tiedcarelessly ather waist,her emeraldearrings sparklinginthehalllight. Myheartjumps tomythroat.

It's Ms. icago.

"Hi," she says, as friendly as she was in the conference room three weeks ago. She glides past me, out

towardthediningroom.

"Hi," I say, scampering behind her, untying my scarf. I round the corner just as she throws open the Frenchdoors ontothedining

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room,revealing atablesetfor a romantic dinnerfortwo.A hugebouquetofpeonies,thepurplyblackof squid ink, sits among a ring of glowing votives. She leans across the gleaming mahogany to straighten thesilverware.

"I'm justhereforthehumidifiers!" I call outover thestereo.

"Wait," she says, going over to the hidden control panel in the bookcase and expertly adjusting the volume, tone,andbass. "There."Sheturnstome,smilingplacidly. "Whatwere yousaying?"

"The humidifiers? Are, um, dry? They run out of... water? And the pictures, well, they can really, uh, suffer? If they're dry? I was just supposed to water them. Only once. Just now, today, 'cause that should lastthemtill... Okay! So, I'll justdothat,then."

"Well, thankyou,Nanny.I'm sure Mr. Xappreciatesthat,andI do, too."Sheretrievesher errantglass of champagnefromthesideboard.I kneelandunplugthehumidifier fromthefloor.

"Okay,then,"I grunt,heavingthemachineintomyarmsandlettingmyself outintothekitchen.

I refill all ten water tanks, schlepping them back and forth to the laundry room, while Ella keeps right on trucking from "It Was Just One of Those Things," through "Why Can't You Behave?" and "I'm Always True to You, Darlin', in My Fashion." My mind is reeling. This is not her house. This is not her family.Andthatmost definitelywasnot herbedroomthatshecameoutof.

"Are youdoneyet?" sheasks asI pluginthelastone. "BecauseI waswonderingifyoucouldruntothe shop for me."She follows me to thedoor asI grab mycoat. "Pierre forgotto get heavycream. Thanks." Shehandsme atwentyasI openthedoor.

I look down at the moneyand then at Grayer's little frog umbrella in the stand, the one thathas two big frog eyes that pop up when he opens it. I hold the money out to her. "I can't. have, um, an appointment, a doctorthing."I catch a glimpse of myself inthegiltmirror. "Actually ... I justcan't."

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Her smile strains. "Keep it, then," she says evenly. The elevator door opens, while she attempts to look casualleaningagainstthedoorframe.

I putthebill downonthehalltable.

Her eyes flash. "Look, Nanny, is it? You run home and tell your boss that you found me here and all you'll be doing is saving me the trouble of leaving behind a pair of panties." She steps back into the apartment,lettingthedoorslamshutbehindher.

"Like, literally panties?" Sarah asks me the next day as she tries on yet another shadeof pink lipstick at theStilacounter.

"I don't know!DoI havetolookforthem? I feellikeI havetolookforthem."

"How much are thesepeople paying you? I mean, do you have a line? Is there a line they could cross?"

Sarahisfuriouslypuckering."Toopink?"

"Baboonbutt," I say.

"Try one of the plummy shades," the makeup artist behind the counter suggests. Sarah reaches for a tissueandstartsover. "Mrs. X iscomingbacktomorrow. I feellikethere's somethingI'm supposedtobedoing,"I say, leaning

againstthecounterinexasperation.

"Um, quitting?"

"No,outhereintherealworld,whereI payrent."

"TOOOOOTS!!!!!" Sarah and I freeze and look across the atrium to where two piles of shopping bags

are calling Sarah's high-school nifkname, which rhymes with "boots."The bags make their wayaround thebalconytowardus, partingtorevealAlexandraandLangly,twoofour classmatesfromChapin. SarahandI exchangeglances. Inhighschooltheylivedin

THE NANNY DIARIES Birkenstocks and followed the Dead. Nowthey standbefore us,Alexandra atnearly six feet and Langly atbarely five, inshearlingcoats,cashmere turtlenecks,and ashitload ofCartier.

"TOOTS!" they cry again as Alexandra envelops Sarah in a big hug, nearly clonking her on the head with oneofhershoppingbags.

"Toots,what's up?"Alexandraasks. "So,doyouhave aman?"

Sarah's eyelids lift. "No. Well, I mean there was someone, but..." She's starting to sweat, foundation

beadingonherbrow.

"I have a faaabulous man. e's Greek. He's soo gorgeous. We're going to the Riviera next week,"

Alexandracoos. "So,whatareyouup to?" sheasksme.

"Oh,sameold,sameold.Still workingwith kids."

"Huh,"Langlysays quietly. "What're yougonnadonextyear?"

"Well, I'm hoping to work with an after-school program." Their eyes narrow, as if I had just switched

languages unexpectedly. "Focusing on using creative arts? As a tool for self-expression? And, um,

building community?" I am getting completely blank looks. "Kathie Lee's really involved?" I offer as a

last-ditch effortto ... what?

"Right.Whataboutyou?" Langlyalmost whisperstoSarah.

"I'm goingtoworkatAllure."

"Oh,myGod!!" theysqueal.

"Well,"Sarahcontinues, "I'm onlygoingtobeansweringthephones,but?

"No,that's awesome. I. Love.Allure,"Alexandrasays.

"Whatare youguys doingnextyear?" I ask.

"Following myman,"Alexandrasays.

"Ganja,"Langlysayssoftly.

"Well, we better run. e're meeting my mom at Cote Basque at one. Oh, Toots!" Sarah is once again

molestedbyAlexandraandtheyheadofftopokeattheirseafoodsalads.

"You're toofunny,"1 saytoSarah. "Allure?"

"Fuck 'em. Comeon, let's goeatsomewherefabulous."

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We decidetotreatourselves to a chiclunchof redwineandrobiolacheesepizzasatFred's.

"I mean,wouldyouactuallyleaveyour underwearinsomeone's house?"

"Nan,"Sarahsays,shuttingme up. "I just don't understandwhyyoucare. Mrs. Xworks youlike a mule

andgaveyoudead-animal headgearfor abonus!Whatis yourloyalty?"

"Sarah, regardless of what kind of a whackjob employer she might be, she's still Grayer's mom and this

woman is having sex with her husband in her bed. And in Grayer's home. It makes me heartsick.

Nobodydeserves that.Andthatfreak!Shewantstoget caught!What's up withthat?"

"Well, if my married boyfriend was dawdling about leaving his wife I guess I might want him to get

caught,too."

"So,ifI tell,Ms. ChicagowinsandMrs. X willbedevastated. IfI don't tellit's humiliatingforMrs. X?

"Nan, this is not even within a million miles of your responsibility. You don't have to be the one to tell

her. Trustme. t's notinyour jobdescription."

"But if I don't and the panties are floating around and she finds out that way ... Ugh! How awful! Oh,

myGod,whatifGrayerfindsthem?She's soevil I betshe'd putthemsomewherehe'd findthem."

"Nan,get agrip.Howwouldheevenknowtheywere hers?"

"Because they're probably black and lacy and thonged and he might not get it now, but one day he'll be

intherapyand it'll justIdiilU him. Get yourcoat."

Sarah greets JcBh in the front hall with a glass of wine. "Welcome to Hunt the Panties!, where we play

for fabulous prizes, including ear-muffs and a trip to the broom closet. Who's our first contestant?"

"Ooh,me,me!" Joshsays ashetakesoffhisjacket. I am onmy

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