Page 13 of Hearts Aweigh
W HAT WAS HE THINKING ? “I want you.” Was he aiming for a harassment lawsuit?
Spencer had meant it in a business sense. But what if Abby had taken him the wrong way? The fact she’d agreed to visit his suite and discuss employment in private boded well. He risked a glance her direction. She waited patiently by his side. No shock or offense apparent.
He waved his key card in front of the door and opened it.
Madeleine preceded them into the apartment and walked to the couch.
After retrieving a book from the coffee table, she sat with her dress spread out as she had in the children’s area.
Now that Abby had made him aware of it, the posture bothered him.
Was his daughter comfortable? Why did she always look like a child model in a magazine spread?
“Thank you for making time to discuss this.”
“As long as it doesn’t take too long. I have a— wowzers !” Abby entered the expansive suite with mouth hanging open. “I’ve heard about this place from the housekeepers, but this is my first time seeing it in person.”
Spencer surveyed the open layout of the lavish two-story apartment with aversion.
Shaggy area rugs covered hardwood floors.
The furnishings were too modern, and the floor-to- ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the ocean that reminded him how far from home this trip was taking him. “It’s adequate.”
“Adequate?” She held out her arms and spun in a circle. “It’s like a luxury penthouse. Oh my word, there’s even a piano!”
“Do you play?”
A secretive grin lit her face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Abby approached the baby grand near the balcony door. Sinking gracefully to the bench, she gave a serene smile. She wove her fingers together backward, stretched her arms out, and then pointed both index fingers.
Plink-plink-plink-plink.
The rudimentary sound of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” floated through the suite.
“What do you think, Maddie?” she called.
Madeleine discarded her book and moved to the piano. “I like that song.”
Abby scooted over to make room on the bench and proceeded to teach his daughter her two-fingered version of the famous tune. Spencer sighed with relief. It appeared that Madeleine would have no trouble adjusting to their new employee.
He went to the dining room table, where his office documents waited in organized piles.
The stainless steel desk in the adjoining office had been insufficient.
He sat in one of the upholstered chairs, sent a quick text to the office to postpone his scheduled call, then withdrew a blank piece of paper from a manila folder and made a quick list of his expectations.
He spoke as he wrote. “I appreciate your willingness to consider a position as Madeleine’s temporary nanny.”
Abby stopped playing. “It’s no big deal.
Our ship offers the special service on every voyage.
” She rose from the piano bench and walked over.
“But I have a previous commitment tomorrow until two. I wouldn’t want my coworkers to suffer by having to adjust their work schedules on short notice.
” She sat on the other side of the table, checking the time on her phone.
“You can bring Maddie to the Kids Kingdom again, if you need to”—her tone took on a deriding quality—“work. On a cruise ship. When you’re supposed to be on vacation. ”
He ignored her obvious sarcasm and pushed the piece of paper across the table.
Abby picked it up and read aloud. “‘The party of the first part—’”
“That’s me,” said Spencer.
“‘Promises to provide adequate compensation to the party of the second part—’”
“You.”
She clamped her lips shut and read the remainder of the document in silence. “Translation, please?” she asked as she set the sheet on the table.
Spencer’s brows dipped. “This is my list of expectations, specifying what your duties will be while you care for my daughter, and how I will compensate you.”
Abby laughed. “Monarch Cruises provides our nanny valet service. The extra cost will be added to the bill and charged to your credit card at the end of the trip. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“Nothing in this world is ‘easy-peasy.’” He repeated her phrase like it was a foreign language.
“The cruise line pays your salary, but I assume you’re allowed to accept tips for a job well done.
I’ve missed the last two years of my daughter’s life, and I must ensure she is receiving the best care.
In this document, you’ll find my requirements for you and the remuneration I’m willing to offer in return. ”
“Is this a legally binding contract?”
“No. But I find that an employee performs better when they are clear on what is expected of them. Naturally, you’re free to negotiate any terms.”
Abby released a long-suffering sigh and picked up the document. She scanned the items he’d bulleted.
Spencer had made sure everything was spelled out. Bedtime. Dietary restrictions.
Her forehead crinkled. “This says Madeleine must spend at least two hours a day on an educational activity.”
Spencer nodded. “We’re following the already-established schedule her mother used. I’m trying to make this transition period for Madeleine as easy as possible.”
“Two hours ?”
He nodded again.
Abby tilted her head. “But … you’re on vacation.”
Spencer threaded his fingers together and placed them on the table.
“I do not consider this a vacation in any way, shape, or form. My goal is to convince Daisy in the shortest amount of time possible to return home where she belongs. While we are stuck on this ship, I will continue to do my job to the best of my ability, and I expect my daughter to do the same.”
“She’s five.” Abby glanced over at Madeleine and whispered, “She doesn’t have a job.”
“Of course she does. Her job is to prepare herself for kindergarten next year.”
“Ah, yes.” Abby sat back in her chair. “That kindergarten is a real killer. Will you hire her a tutor?”
“Please avoid the flippancy. Beyond those two hours, she’ll have the remainder of the day to play.” He unfolded his hands and tapped the contract. “Is there anything you want to tweak?”
“A few thoughts come to mind.”
He’d anticipated as much. Spencer passed a pen to Abby. She took it and added three bullet points to the list of stipulations. The plink-plink-plink of the piano continued in the background while he waited for her demands. She slid the paper across to Spencer.
He read her additions, and his eyes shot to hers. “I don’t understand.”
“You made sure to outline exactly what was expected of myself and Madeleine.” Abby pointed at him. “I added what your duties will be.”
Spencer read aloud. “‘The party of the first part promises to spend at least forty-five minutes a day with his daughter in a frivolous, noneducational activity.’”
“I was generous. It really should be an hour, but you said you’re busy.”
He read again. “‘The party of the first part will smile at his daughter at least three times a day.’”
“Again, generous. It should be three times an hour with an adorable girl like Maddie. But you don’t smile much, so I’m easing you into it.”
He looked to the piano, where Madeleine pressed the keys. “I … I smile at my daughter.”
“Of course you do. I just meant you could amp up the frequency.”
Spencer read the last addition. “‘The party of the second part will be given a one-hour break, in addition to mealtimes, for dating.’” His face was still pointed at the paper, but his gaze rose to hers. “Dating?”
Abby grinned.
“Does Monarch Cruises always include dating in your childcare schedule?”
“Not as a rule.” She laughed. “But I’ve recently enlisted the experts to help me with my love life, and I don’t want them to forget about me.”
“Experts? You mean my mother and her friends?”
“Yes. They’ll be arranging different dates for me.”
“Can’t you attend to these after working hours?”
“I’d like the option of going on a date while the sun’s still up. It may not always be at the same time, but I’ll give you plenty of advance warning. During that hour you can enjoy your frivolous activity with Madeleine. A two-for-one deal.”
“I still can’t fathom how Daisy is giving someone else advice about romance.” A short, derisive laugh left Spencer’s mouth. “You chose quite the expert.”
“She and her friends are amazing. The Shippers have arranged multiple happy couples.”
“The Shippers? They named their matchmaking service? Do they pass out business cards?”
“Please avoid the flippancy.” Abby echoed his words from earlier. “They’re called the Shippers because they arrange relation ships . I convinced them to take me on by the skin of my teeth, and I’m not going to waste this opportunity.”
“Who will you be dating?” Spencer dropped the paper. “The shirt-tucked gentleman they introduced this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Her grin reappeared. “Wasn’t he cute?”
“I have no idea. So you’ve decided to marry the minister?”
“Not yet. We’re getting to know each other. And that takes time. Thus, my clause about taking an hour off.”
“To sum it all up”—he slapped the table—“you’re inserting a clause for your blind dates?”
“Yep. And no need to get thumpy. I have two brothers and three sisters who grew noisy at the slightest provocation, so it doesn’t affect me in the least. I’m supposed to meet Norville at the Trafalgar restaurant in thirty minutes.” She glanced at her phone again. “Are we done?”
Spencer drummed his fingers in a steady tattoo. He hated the third clause. It was unprofessional to include details about her love life. Although he’d written prenuptial agreements with much worse, even down to the number of infidelities each partner was allowed.
Spencer took the pen and scratched through something on the paper.
“Wait!” Abby reached out. “What are you changing?”
“You want me to spend forty-five minutes in a frivolous activity with my daughter while you’re on a sixty-minute date.
The math doesn’t compute. I’m subtracting the extra fifteen minutes.
I’ll give you an extra daily break of forty-five minutes.
You can use it for romance or napping or whatever you choose.
If you require any more time, you’ll have to arrange your dates for when you’re off the clock. ”
Abby propped an elbow on the table, rested her chin in her hand, and her lips turned upward. “Deal.”
Spencer loosened the knot in his tie and stretched his neck. Why did he get the feeling he’d been had?