Page 7 of Quiet as Kept

“And it needs to be somebody we can trust,” Trinity added. “She has to love our girls, and she can’t be no freak trying to seduce my brother in the midnight hour.”

Ayden made a face, like he didn’t necessarily agree that the nanny couldn’t be a freak.

“So . . .” Yahirah dragged out the word. “You need a nanny—somebody trustworthy, that’s good with kids, and that won’t try to seduce you . . .”

“You live in Atlanta, Hi. They would need to be local,” I reminded her.

“Uhm, she’s not local, but she might be willing to relocate.”

“From Atlanta to Jackson Island?” Ayden questioned. “I don’t know about that. Who is it?”

“She doesn’t live in Atlanta. She lives in Londynville.”

“Who is it?” I asked. “Unless it’s Aunt Sherise or my deceased great-grandmother, I don’t trust anybody from Londynville.”

“Do you remember Xarielle?”

“Your friend? The one that Aunt Sherise basically adopted?”

“Yes, exactly. She’s a teacher. She teaches pre-k. She went to school and has a degree. She’s been fingerprinted and bonded in the state of Kentucky. She loves children, and she needs . . . a break.”

“What do you mean break?”

Yahirah sighed. “She needs an opportunity to get out of Londynville, out of her current situation. As a pre-k teacher, you know she’s not making any money. She doesn’t have any real support.” She let her voice trail off for a second. “Working for you, living in your house . . . that would give her a chance to save money. It would give her the opportunity to see that there’s more to life than Londynville, Kentucky. And your girls would get a nanny who is really good with kids. You remember how it used to be when we were young. All those ‘turn-up’ moms on the block would be leaving their kids with her while they went to . . . do grown folks’ stuff.” She smirked. “Xari was a natural.”

I nodded in agreement. “She did always have some random baby on her hip.”

“And everybody thought because she was so good with kids that she would end up being a young mother.”

“She’s not a mother?” I was ashamed to admit that I’d been one of the people who thought she would start having kids and not stop until she had a house full.

Yahirah’s head wagged back and forth in the negative. “Nah. Xari’s not on that type of time.”

“You think she would be interested? Who would pick up their life and move several states away from everything they know for a position as a nanny? I mean, I’ll only need her until my girls are old enough to start school or . . .”

“Or what?” Trinity prompted. “You find a wife?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “Definitely not looking for one of those.”

“I’ll reach out to her and see if she’s interested in doing an interview,” Yahirah offered.

“Yeah.” I nodded absently. “If she is, let me know. Maybe we could set up a video conference.”

“Absolutely not,” Trinity fussed. “If she’s going to be watching my nieces while you’re at work, I need to meet her inperson and get a feel for who she is. You can’t do that over the internet.”

“Yeah, but I know her, Trin. She lived in Aunt Sherise’s house. I was there all of the time. I know her.”

“Youknewher.” She corrected. “You don’t know this person.” She turned to our cousin. “No offense, Hi, but that’s your friend. I don’t know this chick from a can of paint.”

“Oh, I agree. The interview should definitely be done in person. You can see if the girls take to her—if she’s a good fit.”

Three

Xarielle

I barely slept a wink the night before the interview. Thoughts of the things I’d packed in the suitcase wouldn’t leave me alone. Yahirah emailed me a checklist. I had double checked and triple checked that thing, but I still had doubts that I packed everything. On top of that, I couldn’t believe that Yahirah talked Kept into interviewing me for a nanny position.

Growing up, I could barely remember Kept saying more than twenty words to me over the years. He did most of his talking to Nehemiah. He talked to Mama Reese, who was his aunt, and to Yahirah sometimes, but he never really spoke to me. Apparently, he’d gotten over his shyness enough to become very successful and to talk some lady out of her panties . . . twice.