Page 82 of Nine Week Nanny

"It's no burden at all. I'm already going anyway. And they are in heaven, why disturb that?" I wave toward the sandbox where the boys are still engrossed in their archaeological dig.

Angela's shoulders visibly relax. "You're a lifesaver. Seriously. I'll spot you lunch tomorrow, if you're up for it."

"You don't owe me lunch!"

"I'd like to. Gives us an excuse to get together."

When she stands to leave, I rise, too, and we hug like we've been friends for years instead of days. There's something comforting about the easy way we've fallen into friendship. There’s no awkward getting-to-know-you phase, no careful dancing around topics. Just an immediate connection.

"Micah! Come say goodbye to Mom!" I call.

He trudges over, trailing sand everywhere, and Angela bends to kiss his forehead. "Listen to Ms. Sloane, okay? I'll see you after Seabreeze."

"Kay, Mom. Can I bring Bruce Wayne home?" He points to a small container where they've apparently imprisoned another hermit crab. I laugh to myself that is always their go-to name for their critters.

"We'll discuss pet ownership another day, buddy."

As I walk Angela and Tyler to the back deck, a wave of gratitude washes over me. A week ago, I was panicking in my empty apartment, friendless and jobless in a strange city. Now I have a great job, a quasi-family and Angela, my very first "mom friend" even though I'm not a mom.

It's not the social circle I imagined building in Palm Beach, but it's genuine and warm and exactly what I needed.

Angela turns at the door, Tyler's fussing now a constant whine against her shoulder. "There's this great little place near Seabreeze that does amazing salads if you're up for it. I mean it, so let me know."

"I'd love lunch." The words come out more enthusiastically than I intended, but I don't care. Having a friend here makes everything feel less temporary, less precarious.

After seeing them out, I return to the patio and survey my domain: two sandy seven-year-olds and a half-built sand castle.

"You guys ready for lunch?"

"YES!" they shout in perfect unison, dropping their sticks.

"How about I bring it out here? You can eat on the patio."

They respond with cheers and high-fives and return to their city-building. Selfishly, I'm glad to keep the sand outside instead of in the kitchen.

"Be right back."

I usherMicah and Lennon through Seabreeze's entrance, steering them toward their familiar spot under the large banyan tree. My hand rests lightly on Lennon's shoulder. He's still not big on physical contact, but lately he tolerates these brief touches without stiffening.

"Come see the baby turtles!" Micah's voice rises above the ambient chatter of Seabreeze.

Lennon tugs at my sleeve, his eyes wider than I've ever seen them. "Two of them! They're so tiny."

"Can we show Sloane?" Micah bounces on his toes, looking up at the young woman with braided hair, who I recognize as one of the Seabreeze educators.

Ms. Melia nods. "Of course. They're settling in nicely."

The boys grab my hands simultaneously, pulling me toward the covered pavilion with surprising strength.

"Slow down, guys. The turtles aren't going anywhere." I laugh as they practically drag me across the mulched path.

"But they're swimming!" Lennon's voice carries an urgency I rarely hear from him. "You have to see them swim!"

We reach the pavilion where a large tank sits on a low wooden table. Several children are already gathered around, but they make space when we approach.

"Look!" Micah points dramatically to what appears to be two moving pebbles. "That's Rocket and that's Flash!"

I kneel down between them, bringing myself to eye level with the tank. "You already named them?"