The Nanny Diaries (32 page)

"Oh,myGod."

Shetakes a deepbreath. "Whatwereyoulookingtospend?"

"I don't know. . . six,sevenhundred."

"A month?" She holds thephone away from her mouth while shecackles. "Honey, do us all a favor and

lookintheVoice for a share."

"ButI don't wanttoshare."

"ThenI wouldgetmyself anapartmentinQueensand acanofpepperspray."

"Well, doyouhaveanylistings inBrooklyn?"

"We don't dotheboroughs."Shehangsup.

Thehairs onthebackof myneckstandupasI hearthedistinct tearof a condomwrapperfromtheother

side of Charlene's screen. Ugh! I throw myself down on the bed, pulling the pillows over my ears.

Forgetquitting, bygraduation I'll bebeggingMrs. Xtoletmemove in.

H. H. gives Grandma another twirl around the dance floor to the strains of the salsa band she has hired fortheeveningfrom her

favorite Mexicanrestaurant. Herapartmentisaglowincolorfulpaperlanterns.

"And he can dance!" she calls out to where my parents and I are sitting on her terrace, her flamenco

skirtswingingasheturnsher.

Momleansintowardme. "He's adorable."

"I know,"I saywith pride.

"Hey, watch it. Father's present," Dad says jokingly from where he sits in the chaise beside us. The

evening is warm and Grandma set the food up out here where my friends mingle with my parents'

friendsaroundthecandlelittables.

"Thatguyover therewants to payme tosculptmyelbows," Sarahsays, coming over with two plates of

cakeandhandingonetomymother.

"Yeah,sure. tstartswith theelbows.. ." Dadwarns'her.

Thesongfinishesand H. H. andGrandmaapplaudtheband.

"Darling!" Grandmacomes outonhis arm. "Didyougetsomecake?"

"Yes, Gran,"I say.

"You." My grandmother snaps her fingers at my reclining dad. "Get out there and give your wife a

twirl." Mom stands, extending her hand in Dad's direction. They shuffle off in step to the music. "How

are my darlings?" Grandma asks as she and H. H. sit down on the chaise. "Has everyone had enough to

eatanddrink?"

"The party is divine, Frances," Sarah thanks her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure our

friendJoshuaisn't offlosinghis paella."Shedisappearsontothedancefloor.

I leanbacktolookupatthestars. "It's strangetoactuallybefinishedwith school?

"Life isschool,darling," Grandmacorrectsme,takinga forkfulofDad's unfinishedcake.

"ThenI'm inRealEstate101,"I say, pickingup myforktojoin her. "I only havetheweekendafter I get

backfromNantuckettofindanapartmentandget all mystuffout ofChezCharlene."

THE NANNY DIARIES "That's Mrs. Hairytoyou," H. H. interjects. Grandmareachesout herbangledarmtosqueezemyhand. "I'm sosorryyoucan't staywith me,butI've

already rearranged the guest room for Orve's potting wheel." This will be Orve's second summer-in!residence with Grandma. She has a long-held summer tradition of hosting fledgling artists from all parts of the globe. hey teach her technique in exchange for sumptuous room and board. "You'll find something. havefaith."

"So doI,darling," H. H. says, mimicking mygrandmother's ebullienttone. ShewinksathimasshestandsandI notice a glint ofblueather throat. "New necklace, Grandma? It's charming." "Isn't it? I was in Bendel's last week and there were these

little blue lacquer letters." She fingers the tiny 5 and SL hanging on the gold chain around her neck. "Theywere all bythemselves inthedisplaycase,therestofthealphabetmust havesold.I justhadsuch a good laugh, get it? FQ, say it real fast." She laughs deeply as she merenguesher way back inside and, forthefirst timesincethis afternoon's ceremony,I am alonewith H. H.

"Come on," he says softly, taking my hand and leading me over to the stone balustrade overlooking the park. "I think your family rocks." "Believe it or not, I can't complain," I say, placing my arms around himaswe lookoutacross thecity.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he says, giving me a squeeze. "Sure you are. While you're off in Amsterdamwith all thepornstars,smokingthepot?

"It's The Hague.A full twenty minutes from all that. No porn stars. No pot. Just me, missing you, and a wholelotofpolitical prisoners with grievances."

I turn my head and reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him. "Those political prisoners, whine, whine, whine,"I murmur.

Hekissesthetopofmynoseandthenmyforehead. "Andwhat

aboutyou?Stuckatthebeachwith all thoselifeguards,poolboys, cabanaboys?

"Oh, my god. I'm not going to the Riviera.'m going to stinky little Nantucket." I smack my hand on topoftherailing. "Shit. I forgottocheckmymessages!"

Herollshis eyes. "Nan?

"Wait, wait,wait. t'll only takeme twominutes. I justhavetocallmymachineandfindoutwhattime they're pickingmeupfromtheferrytomorrow. Don't move, I'll berightback!"

I go into Grandma's bedroom to use the salmon-pink Princess phone on the night table, moving aside a few of her needlepoint pillows to sit on the sateen bedspread.As I punch the answering-machine code into the keypad the soft light of the room reminds me of sleep-overs from my childhood when she wouldleavethelampsonuntil I fellasleep.

Mrs. X's voice comes through like ice cubes dropped down the back of my dress. "Oh, Nanny, good news. ur friends the Horners are flying up tomorrow at nine and have graciously offered to let you come along. So you'll be in Nantucket by nine-thirty in the morning. Now, Nanny, these are very dear friends of ours so I'm counting on you to be timely about this. Plan to meet them at the Westch-ester CountyAirportintheprivate-plane departurearea.You'll needtotaketheseven-fiftyMetro-North train to Rye and a taxi or something to get out to the airport. They have three girls, so they should be easy to spot. Now, they're doing this as a favor, so you really can't be late.Actually, you might want to plan to beatGrandCentralStationbysix-fiftyjusttogive yourself time? Beep.

"Your machinecut me off. I'll needyou to stop by while you're out and about and pick up an article I've leftwith James for youon Lyme disease. Horrible.Also, I'll needyouto find deer-tick repellentsuitable for afour-year-oldandmakesureit's hypoallergenic,soitwon't irritatehis skin.AndI wouldappreciate itifyoucouldgoto

THE NANNY DIARIES

Polo andpick up six pairs of knee-high cotton socks,white. Takeone of Grayer's shoeswith you soyou get the right size. I've left a pair with James so you can get them when you pick up the article and then juststickit all inyour carry-on. Perfect. Seeyoutomorrow!"

Beep.

"Nanny."I havetrouble placing the voice at first. "As per myletter of instructions, I'll be arriving atthe apartment tomorrow. I trust you had no trouble finding the foie gras. Have a good time in Nantucket andpleasesayhellotoGrayerforme."

AH right. 1 grew up and then became a governess. [Pause] I'd really tike to start a conversation, but

there's noonetostart aconversation with ... I don't haveanybodyatall.

. HEANDRYEEV1CHFAMILY GOVERNESS,THECHERRYORCHARD.

AndWe GaveHeranAll*-expenses^paidVa cation

"Good-bye!" the Horners shout from their car as it pulls out of the Nantucket Airport parking lot,

leavingmealonebythesideofthetarmac.

I sit down on my duffel bag and fight the urge not to throw up as only someone can who's just flown twenty-five minutes on a six-seater plane through torrential downpours, unrelenting fog, and massive turbulence with four adults, three children, a goldfish, a guinea pig, and a golden retriever. Only my considerationfortheHornergirls preventedmefromscreamingatevery drop.

I pullmysweatshirt closer aroundmeagainstthesaltywindandwait.

Andwait.

Andwait.

Oh,no,that's okay,that'sfiiine. No,I wasn't outlateatmygraduationparty. No,youtakeyourtime.'ll

just sit here in the cold drizzle. No, I think what's important is that I'm here, in Nantucket, and that you and your family can rest easy just knowing I am somewhere within a ten-mile vicinity of you. I think what's important,

THE NANNY DIARIES

you know, paramount really, is that I'm not off living my life, attending to whatever I need to be doing,

but am permanently onpauseforyouandyourfuckingfamily?

TheRover pulls inandbarelyslowsto aroll astheymotionfor

me tojumpin.

"Nanny!" Grayer screams. "I got a Kokichu!" He holds up a yellow Japanese toy as I open the door.

Thereis averylargecanoeprecariouslyangledinthetrunksothatitsticksoutover halftheback

passengerseat.

"Nanny,becarefuloftheboat. It's anantique,"Mrs. Xsays

proudly.

I maneuver myself under the canoe, pull my bag between my feet, crouch low, and reach around to pat

Grayer's legingreeting. "Hey,Grove,I missedya."

"Theantiquinghereiswonderful. I'm hopingtofind anewcouchtableforthesecondguestbedroom."

"Dreambig,honey," Mr. X grumbles underhis breath.

Ignoringhim,shelooksupatme inhervisor mirror. "So,whatwastheplanelikeinside?"

"Urn,ithadbrown leatherseats?I say, myheadwedgedinto

mychest.

"Didtheyserveyouanything?"

"TheyaskedifI wantedpeanuts."

"You're so lucky. Jack Horner designs fabulous shoes. I absolutely adore Caroline. I worked on a

benefit last year for her brother's campaign. It's such a shame they live in Westchester or we'd just be

the best of friends." She checks her teeth in the mirror. "Now, I want to go over the plan for the

afternoon.It turnsout thePiersonbarbecueis formal, so I thoughtit'd beniceforyou guys to justenjoy

somedowntimeatthehouse. Relaxandenjoytheplace."

"Great. That sounds like fun." I attempt to look over at Grover in his car seat with visions of us passed

outinmatchingchaises onthelawn.

"Now, Caroline was supposed to call about dinner, so just give her my cell number when she rings. I've

tackedit up next tothe phonein the kitchen."Thanks,becauseit usually takes me about nine and a half

monthstomemorize aten-digit number.

We pull off the main road onto a densely wooded drive and I'm surprised to see that quite a few of the

treesarestill bare.

"They've had a cold spring."Mrs. X readsmythoughts. Thedrive opensinto a loopinfrontofwhatcan

only be described as a sprawling, ramshackle 1950s bungalow. The white paint is peeling, the screen

doorhas aholeinit,and apieceofroofingdangles at a precariousanglefromthegutter.

"Well, we're here. CasaCrap," Mr. Xsays,steppingdownfromthecar.

"Darling, I thought we agreed? She gets out and chases after him, leaving me to unbuckle Grayer and

get my bag out of the back. I hold what's left of the screen door open for Grayer, although he probably

couldjustcrawlthrough.

"Honey,it's notmyfaulttherealtor's photographswereoutdated."

"I'm justsayingthatforfivethousanddollars a week,maybe youcouldhavedone abit moreresearch."

Mrs. X turnstous, beaming. "Grayer,whydon't youshowNannyherroom?"

"Come on, Nanny, it's reallyreally cool!" I follow him up the stairs to a little room at the end of the

hallway. Thereare twotwin beds closetogether underthesharplyslanted lowceilingand Grayer's stuff is on one of them. "Isn't this cool, Nanny? We get to have a sleep-over every night!" He sits, bouncing on his bed. I stoop, careful not to bump my head, to fish a warm sweater and jeans out of my bag, as it wasactuallysummer backinNewYork andI optimistically woreshorts.

"Okay, G. I'm justgoingtochange." "AmI goingtoseeyounaked?"

"No, I'll gointhebathroom. Wait here.Where's thebathroom?"

THE NANNY DIARIES

"There!" Hepointstothedooracross thehall.

I push it open. "AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" And am confronted by a red-haired little girl,

shriekingonthetoilet. "Thisismyprivacy!"

"Sorry!" I slamthedoorclosed.

"Grayer,who's that?" I ask.

"That's CarsonSpender. She's stayingtheweekend."

"O-kay." Just then I hear a car pull up the gravel drive. I go over to the window and watch Mr. X direct

a Range Rover around to the side of the house. 1 walk down the hall to the dingy clerestory window

facingthe oceanand see the car pull in next to four others parked by the overgrown hedge.There are at

leasttenchildrenonthebacklawn.

"Grover?" I call, and he comes thumping down the hall. I heave him up so he can see out the window.

"Whoarethosekids?"

"I dunno. They're just kids." I kiss him on the top of his head and put him down as the bathroom door