The Nanny Diaries (20 page)

take him to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch and then down ThirdAvenue to the new Muppet movie.

I wasworriedhemightbescaredof thedark,buthesingsandclaps all thewaythrough.

"That was so funny, Nanny. So funny," he says, as I buckle him back into his stroller and we sing the

themesong all thewayto

Frenchclass.

After I drop him offwith Mme. Maxime to faire lesValentines I runacross Madisonto Barneys to pick

up alittle somethingfor H. H.

"CanI help you?" thenotoriouslybitchyblondebehindthe

Kiehl's counter half asks, half spits. She has never been forgiven for once accusing Sarah of shoplifting

thetonershewastryingtoreturn.

"No, thanks, just browsing." I set my sights on another salesperson, a tall Eurasian man in an

expensive-looking black shirt. "Hi, I'm looking for a Valentine's present for my boyfriend." I love

saying it. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Yeah, I have the cutest boyfriend. My boyfriend doesn't like

woolsocks. Oh,myboyfriendworksatTheHague,too!

"Okay,well, whatkindofproductsdoesheprefer?" Right,I'm back.

"Oh,I don't know. Um, hesmells nice. Heshaves. Maybe someshavestuff?"

He shows me every conceivable product an aspiring model pulling in extra cash at Barneys might ever

wanttouse. ?

"Um, really? Lipliner?" I ask. "Becauseheplays lacrosse .. ."

Heshakeshisheadatmyshortsightednessandpulls outmoreesotericpastesandlotions.

"I don't want to imply that there's anything wrong with him, you know, give him something that fixes

anything. He doesn't need fixing." I finally settle on a stainless steel razor and watch him wrap it in red

tissuepaperandtie aredbowaroundtheblackbox.Parfait.

I greetGrayer outsidehis classroomwithhis coatheldout. "Bonsoir,MonsieurX. Comment 93 va?"

"Cavatresbien, Nanny.Merci beaucoup.Etvous?" heasks,wavinghis magicfingersatme.

"Oui,oui,tresbien."

Maxime leans her head out of the classroom to the row of cubbies where I'm bundling Grayer. "Grayer

is really coming along with his verbs." She smiles down at him from atop her Charles Jourdan pumps.

"But if you could take some time with him to practice the noun list each week, that would be

fantastique. If eitheryouor yourhusband?

THE NANNY DIARIES

"Oh,I'm nothis mother."

"Ah,monDieu!Jem'excuse."

"Non,non,pasdeproblem," I say.

"Alors,seeyounextweek,Grayer."

I trytopushhim homequicklybecause afrigidwindis whipping

downPark.

"As soonas we get upstairs," I say, crouchingin theelevator to loosenhis scarf, "I'm going to put some

Vaselineonyourcheeks,okay?You're getting alittle chapped."

"Okay.Whatarewegoingtodotonight,Nanny?Let's fly!Yeah, I thinkweshouldflyassoonaswe get upstairs." LatelyI've beenbalancinghim onmyfeetand "flying"himinhis room. "After bath, G, that's flying time." I push the stroller over the threshold. "What do you want for

dinner?"

I'm hanging up our coats when Mrs. X walks into the front hall in a floor-length red evening gown and

Velcrocurlers, alreadyintheheatofpreparationforherValentinedinnerdatewith Mr. X.

"Hi,guys. Didyouhave agoodday?"

"HappyValentine's Day, Mommy!" Grayershoutsingreeting.

"HappyValentine's Day. Oops,becarefulofMommy's dress."

Spatula.

"Wow, youlookbeautiful,"I say, pullingoffmyboots.

"You think so?" She looks down in consternation at her midriff. "I still have a little time. r. X's flight

fromChicagodoesn't landforanotherhalf hour. Couldyoucome helpme fora minute?" "Sure. I wasjustgoingtogetdinnerstarted.I thinkGrayer's pretty hungry."

"Oh.Well, whydon't youjustordersomethingin?There's

moneyinthedrawer."Well, I never.

"Great! Grayer, why don't you come help me order?" I keep a hidden stash of menus in the laundry

roomforemergencies.

"Pizza!I wantpizza,Nanny!Pleeeaaase?"

1 53

I raise an eyebrow at him because he knows I can't say "But you had pizza for lunch" in front of his

mother.

"Great. Nanny, why don't you call for a pizza, pop in a v-i-d-e-o and then come help me," she says as sheleaves theroom. "Hahaha, pizza, Nanny, we're having pizza," he laughs and claps wildly at his unbelievable good

fortune.

"Mrs. X?" I pushthedooropen.

"In here!" she calls out from the dressing room. She's standing in another floor-length red gown and

there's athirdhangingupbehindher.

"Oh, my God! Wow, it's beautiful." This one has thicker straps and red velvet leaf appliques trailing aroundtheskirt.Thecoloris a stunningcombination with herthickblackhair. Shelooksinthemirror andshakesherhead. "No,it's justnotright." I lookcarefullyatherinthedress. I

realizeI've never seenher arms or sternumbefore. Shelookslike a ballet dancer,tinyand all sinew. But sheisn't fillingoutthedress inthebustandit's hanging all wrong.

"I thinkmaybe it's thebustline,"I saytentatively.

She nods her head. "Breast-feeding," she says derisively. "Let me try on the third. Would you like some

wine?" I noticetheopenbottleof Sancerreonthedresser.

"No,thankyou.I shouldn't."

"Oh,comeon.Gotake aglass offthebar."

I walk throughto thepiano room where I can hearthe strains of "I'm Madeline!I'm Madeline!" coming

fromthelibrary.

WhenI get backshe's comeoutin a beautifulNapoleonicraw-silkgown, lookinglikeJosephine.

"Oh,muchbetter," I say. "Theempire waist reallysuitsyou."

"Yeah,butitisn't verysexy,isit?"

"Well... no,it's beautiful,butitdependsonthelookyou're goingfor."

THE NANNY DIARIES

"Breathtaking,Nanny. I wantto bebreathtaking."We both smile assheslips behindtheChinesescreen.

"I've gotonemore."

"Are yougoingtokeep all ofthese?" I eyethezeros onthedanglingpricetags.

"No,ofcoursenot. I'll returntheonesI don't wear. Oh,thatremindsme."Shesticksherheadaroundthe

screen. "CanyoutaketherestbacktoBergdorf'sformetomorrow?"

"No problem. I can do it while Grayer's at his play date." "Great. Can you zip me?" she calls out. I put

down my wine and go around to zip her into a stunningly sexy 1930s red sheath, "Yes," we both say as

soon as she looks in the mirror. "It's beautiful," I say. And mean it. It's the first one that uses her

proportions to its advantage, making her look sylphlike, rather than emaciated. Looking at her

reflection,I realizethatI am rootingforher,rootingforthem.

"So what do you think? Earrings or no earrings? I need to wear this necklace becausemyhusbandgave

ittome."Sheholdsup a strandof diamonds. "Isn't itbeautiful?ButI don't wanttooveracces!sorize."

"Doyouhaveanylittlestuds?"

ShestartsgoingthroughherjewelryboxandI takemywineover tothevelvet bench.

"These?" Sheholdsup a pairof diamondstuds?Orthese?"?

andrubies.

"No,definitely thediamonds.You don't wanttooverdothered."

"I went to Chanel today and got the perfect lipstick and look!" She sticks out her foot. Her toes are

paintedinChanelRedcoat.

"Perfect,"I say, taking asip.Sheputsinthestudsandgives herself aquickswipe with thelipstick.

"What do you think?" She turns for me. "Oh, wait!" She goes 1 over to the Manolo Blahnik bag on

thefloorandpullsout a boxcontaining a pair ofexquisiteblacksilksandals. "Toomuch?"

I 55

"No,no.They're gorgeous,"I say, assheslipsthemonandturnsformeagain.

"So,whatdoyouthink?Anythingmissing?"

"Well, I'd take the curlers out." She laughs. "No, really, it's perfect." I give her another once-over. "Um,

it's justthat..."

"What?"

"Doyouhave athong?"

She quickly looks backward in the mirror. "Oh, my God. You're right." She starts rifling through the plasticbags inher lingeriedrawer. "I think Mr. X gaveme apair onourhoneymoon." Oh,brilliant, Nan!

Brill-i-ant! Sendhercombingthroughthepantydrawer. "You can always go commando," I suggest urgently from the velvet bench where I'm downing the rest ofmywine.

"Got 'em!" shesaysandholdsupanexquisite, delicateblackLaPerla thongwithcreamsilkembroidery, whichI am pray-ing ishers. Thedoorbellrings. "NANNYYY!Thepizza's here!" "Thanks,Grayer!" I callback.

"Thesewill do.I'm all set. Thankyousomuch."

After Grayer and I polish off half a medium pie I remove a small cardboard box from my backpack.

"And now a special Valentine's dessert," I say, producing two chocolate cupcakes with red hearts on

them. Grayer's eyes widen atthedeparturefrom choppedfruit andsoycookies. I pour useach a glass of

milkandwedig in.

"Oh,whathavewehere?"We bothfreeze,cupcakesmidwaytoourmouths.

"Nanny bwought thpecial walentine's cucakes," Grayer explains defensively with a mouth full of

chocolate.

Mrs. X has pulledher longhair up into a loosechignonandfinishedher makeup.Shelookslovely. "Oh,

that's sonice. DidyouthankNanny?"

THE NANNY DIARIES

"Thankyou,"hesprays.

"The carshouldbe hereanyminute."Sheperches ontheedgeofthebanquette, every muscletensedfor

theintercombuzzer. Shereminds meofmyself inhighschool, all dressedup,justwaiting togetthecall

tofindoutwhoseparentswereoutof town,wherewewere meeting,wherehewasgoingtobe.

We awkwardly finishour cupcakeswhileshesits anxiously

besideus.

"Well.. ." ShestandsasI'm cleaningGrov offbeforereleasinghimfrom his boosterseat. "I'm justgoing

to go wait in my office. Will you let me know when they buzz up?" She exits, taking a quick glance

backwardattheintercom.

"Of course,"I say, wonderingjust howlate Mr. X will dareto pushit. "Okay, let's fly now, Nanny. Let's fly. an we?" He puts his arms out and does circles around me as I

clear theplates.

"G, you might be a little full. Why don't you go get your coloring books and we'll hang out in here so we canhearthebuzzer,

okay?"

For an hour Grayer and I sit in silence, passing crayons back and forth, looking up intermittently at the

silentintercom.

At eight o'clock Mrs. X calls me into her office. She's sitting on the edge of her office chair, an old

Vogue openonthedesk.Herminklieswaiting onthearmchair.

"Nanny, would you call Justine to find out if she knows anything? The number's on the emergency list

inthepantry."

"Sure,noproblem."

I don't getananswer atworksoI tryher cellphone.

"Hello?" I can hear silverware clanking in the backgroundand hate that I'm interrupting her Valentine's

dinner.

"Hello, Justine?It's Nanny. I'm so sorry to bother you, but Mr. X is runninglate and I was wondering if

youmightknowwhatflighthe's on."

"That's all backattheoffice?

"Mrs. X isjustgetting alittle anxious,"I say, trying toimparttheurgencyof thesituation.

"Nanny!I can't findtheredcrayon!" Grayer calls fromthebanquette.

"Look, um, I'm surehe'll beintouch."There's a pausewhereinI heartherestaurantinfull swing behind

her. "I'm sorry,Nanny,I reallycan't helpyou."AndthenI justknow,I knowit inthepit ofmystomach.

"Naa-nny,I'm stuck.I needthered!"

"Okay,thanks."

"Well?" Mrs. X asksfromover myshoulder.

"Justine wasn't in the office so she doesn't have his itinerary." I walk around her to search through the

bucket of crayons on the table, while Grayer slumps over his coloring book. Maybe this is it. Maybe I should just say something. But what? What do I actually know for a fact, here, really? What I know is thatMs. Chicagowas hereover a monthago. hings could've changedsincethen.Howdo I knowhe's not just running late? "Hey, why don't you check the Weather Channel?" I suggest, bending down to retrieve the red crayon, which has rolled under the bench. "Maybe there are delays out of O'Hare?" I reach my arm up over the table and place the crayon next to Grayer's fist. I stand back up. "I'll call the airline. Whodoeshefly?"

"Justine wouldknow. Oh,andcanyoucall Luteceandmakesuretheydon't giveawayourreservation?"

Shewalkshurriedlyouttowardthelibrary. Grayer slidesdownandrunsacrossthefloortofollowher. Justine's voice mail comes on three times, but, as she's basically left me to fend for myself, I keep calling.