Page 30 of Nine Week Nanny

"I'm considering calling the agency and seeing if there are any alternatives."

"Then do it if you must. But don't throw it out just because it's uncomfortable right now. Let it breathe a little before you make a mess of it."

Something about the phrase,let it breathe, irritates me. I don't have time to let anything breathe. Between the hospital acquisition, temporary guardianship, and now this complication with Sloane, I'm drowning in responsibilities.

"I'll see."

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Pope." Her voice softens. "You'll figure it out, you always do."

I end the call and slide the phone back into my pocket, watching Lennon drift back and forth on the swing. His small hands grip the chains, knuckles white with tension.

What the hell am I supposed to do with him for the rest of the day? For the next nine weeks? I haven't planned past getting him here safely.

"Can I watch TV, Mr. Pope?”

"You don't have to call me Mister. And yes, you sure can. What would you like?"

"Do you have Bluey?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out. Come on."

This is the most he's talked since we met. I'd give him anything he asked for right now.

We pull up Netflix and find something he likes. I couldn't tell you what it is, but it pleases him. It's rated G and looks age-appropriate, so I turn it on and leave him on the sofa to make some calls.

I settle at the kitchen island, pulling up the nanny agency's number on my phone.

The agency picks up on the second ring.

"Elite Care Childcare, this is Jennifer. How may I help you?"

I turn away from the den, keeping my voice low. "This is Pope Carrigan. I'd like to speak with Vanessa about the placement she set up for me.”

"One moment, please."

While waiting, I drum my fingers against the marble countertop. The ocean stretches beyond the patio, a perfect blue-green canvas that costs me a fortune in property taxes.

"Mr. Carrigan, I'm afraid Vanessa is in interviews. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes. I'd like you to keep looking. The candidate you sent isn't a fit."

"Oh." Her voice shifts from perky to concerned. "May I ask what the issue is? Ms. Brennan's credentials are exceptional."

"It's not about her credentials." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "It's a personal matter."

"I see." The sound of typing fills the pause. "I should let you know that candidates with a master's in behavioral therapy are quite rare in our system. And given your timeframe..."

"Surely there's someone else."

"I'm checking now, but no one else with those qualifications is currently available on short notice. It could be weeks before another suitable applicant surfaces. If the timing doesn’t bother you, we can work through that for you.”

My jaw tightens. I don’t have weeks. In the other room, Lennon giggles at something on the television.

“It will be fine.” The word comes out sharper than intended.

"Would you like me to?—"

"No. Thank you." I hang up and drop my phone on the counter.