Page 13 of Quiet as Kept
“In Woodcourt.”
She smacked her lips. “Not the same.”
“Okay, so now we have to play whose neighborhood was the roughest?”
“No, because we both already know which neighborhood was the roughest.” She said it real sassy too.
“I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m going to give you that we probably had a little bit less criminal element in Woodcourt, but the gist of what I was saying is that growing up in the inner-city can leave you feeling like peace didn’t come easy.”
“Agreed.” The sound of the ocean played in the background, creating a soothing soundtrack. “But this is peace. If I had ever really believed that I could make it somewhere like this, I would’ve gone so much harder in high school.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, there were so many things that I never imagined were attainable for me. So many things I never even knew existed.”
After the tour, I led her into my office. She sat down on the sofa across from my desk the same way she’d done at the interview.
“Like I said in the interview, this is a five-day work week position. I never work on Sundays—ever. And I usually don’t work on Saturday, unless something comes up that needs my immediate attention. If you ever have to cancel plans or postpone things because I need you on a Saturday, you will be financially compensated. I will do everything in my power to avoid that, but . . . stuff happens. Now that Trinity has relocated to Atlanta, I don’t have any backup. There’s nobody on this island that I know well enough to trust with my girls. There’s just you and me.”
She nodded her understanding.
“I don’t have a big staff for the house, Xarielle. There’s no cook, no butler, none of that. I have a cleaning crew. They come in on Tuesdays and Fridays. They clean and they leave. I do the majority of the cooking for my girls. I don’t like them eating a lot of garbage—fast food, junk food. You know? Stuff like that.
“Anyway, you’ll be responsible for preparing their lunches. They don’t have any allergies, and they’re both good eaters, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. Your day is long, and that’s one of the reasons that the compensation for the job is what it is. The work week is longer than the forty-hour work week you’re probably used to. Your day needs to start at seven. I leave the house every day no later than seven-thirty. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I’m out of the house by seven-thirty every morning. I try to make it home by five. I like for the girls to have dinner by six-thirty.”
“If you’re running late, and you let me know, I’ll make sure they eat at their scheduled time,” she offered.
“Cool. Cool.”
“Um, I’ve put together a weekly schedule of activities for the girls. I’d really like you to look it over and offer input. I’m not aware of anything they might already be doing, so I don’t want to clash with any of their prior commitments?—”
“What do you mean weekly schedule?” I interrupted.
My phone pinged with a text.
“I just shared the schedule with you. Um, while I was still at home, I started doing research. There’s what looks like a really nice, really active community center on this island. They offer all kinds of activities for children during the day—Music & Me, Little Hands Art Classes, Kiddie Movement. I mean, just all kinds of stuff. The Jackson Island library has a children’s department that does a story hour for littles every Wednesday and a craft class every Saturday. I was thinking that Thursdays would be field trip day. I’ll take them to the zoo or the museum or maybe just out to lunch to try a cuisine from a different culture or country.”
I stared at her. Her eyes held my intense gaze for a little bit, but then she blinked, pushed some hair behind her ear, and blushed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just so excited about the possibilities. I?—”
I cut her off. “Nah, you didn’t overstep, Xarielle. I’m just . . . blown away by the way you’ve taken initiative with this. You’ve really thought this out. No offense, but I expected you to wait for me to give you some direction. The last nanny?—”
It was her turn to interrupt me. “From what I understand, the last nanny was a crash out who was more interested in getting to you than she was in your girls. I’m not on that, Kept. I’ve never been a nanny, but I have been teaching littles for more than seven years. I’m very good at what I do.
“I know exactly what needs to be done to prepare Dakota and Destin for pre-k, kindergarten, and beyond.”
“I’m convinced. I mean, you came here with a whole lesson plan on day one.”
“And did.” Her tone was fake sassy.
I laughed. “They’ll be up from their nap soon. Let’s talk in the kitchen while I prepare their lunch.”
Fridays were for barbecue. I typically worked a half day on Friday. We would eat at the dining set on the deck then head just past our back fence to the sandy beach.
“Is this your personal beach?” Xarielle questioned as we carried down our chairs, an umbrella, two towels, and the cooler.
“The beach is actually considered public, but because this is a gated community, the public doesn’t truly have access.”
She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “The rich are determined to keep regular people away from enjoying even the most basic things in life.”
I didn’t respond. I just contemplated what she said. She was right. It was the ocean. It didn’t belong to anybody; it belonged to everybody. The rich had taken what was supposed to belong to everybody and found a way to keep it for themselves.