Page 6

I texted my mother as we pulled into the driveway.

I told her that I got here safely (true).

Housing is fine (also true, and big and glassy).

There’s a great coffee shop near the office (aka the kitchen).

Mostly I’ll be working and it’s an amazing learning opportunity (true as well).

And it’s also amazing how easy it is to justify my deceit.

Since Mom follows me online, I won’t be posting any pictures to social. I still feel terrible lying to her, but she’d never have allowed me to come here, not in a million years.

But here I am.

The moment I get out of the car after that long ride, eager to stretch my legs, a woman standing nearby shoots me a judgmental look that can’t be misinterpreted.

She eyes me up and down as though the front of my shirt reads “Hussy” and the back of it “Ho.” This must be Julia, with her daughter, Taylor.

David gave me the rundown on the lake crew before we arrived.

While Julia glares, Taylor is oblivious to my presence.

That’s because Brody and Becca are all over her like excited puppies.

I know I should introduce myself, it’s the polite thing to do, but I feel intimidated (not to mention judged) by these wealthy people.

This isn’t my scene: new home, fancy cars.

Yikes, I’m the classic fish out of water.

Maybe that will change with time. We have two weeks together, and it would be nice to make a friend, though it certainly won’t be with the woman who has already decided I’m a slut.

I keep a close eye on Brody and Becca, but from a distance.

They’re safe, having fun with Taylor and the sweet lab I’m assuming belongs to one of the families here, but already I’m stressed about the water.

Pools have enclosures; the shoreline here is wide open and full of peril.

I must remember to ask David if there are chimes on the doors to notify me if someone goes outside.

A creeping sense of dread works its way up my legs.

I give myself a little pep talk, remembering all the research I did in preparation for this role.

While I’m lost in a sea of worries (okay, a lake of them), David is busy showing off his new home to Julia, who is clearly unimpressed.

With hands on her hips, she looks ready for a gunslinging standoff.

I don’t know what it looked like before, but obviously the changes are enough to incense David’s neighbor and longtime friend.

I step back, instinctively removing myself from the line of fire, when I hear a car speed down the drive.

It’s Fiona in her fancy red Porsche, driving too fast for the dirt road and the presence of children and pets.

She comes to an abrupt halt and gracefully steps out of the vehicle, approaching with the swagger of a starlet.

She momentarily draws everyone’s attention away from the glass house.

I haven’t had time to get to know Fiona and David as a couple, but I don’t get the sense that they’re in it for the long haul.

And it’s not just the evident age difference giving me that impression.

Fiona greets David with a light squeeze of his arm.

There’s no big hug, no beaming smile, no reunited and it feels so good.

“Julia, Christian, this is Fiona,” says David. I swear I catch her flinch, ever so slightly, when he wraps his arm around her, as though claiming his prize.

I don’t like to judge by appearances, especially after Julia did that to me, but I understand David’s interest. Fiona’s quite the beauty with pouty lips, luscious long blond hair, smooth skin, and high cheekbones—qualities that David should scout for his talent business.

Elite New Yorkers constantly invade Vermont, so I’m familiar with the women who wear brand names like armor and change cars the way I do shoes.

Fiona’s not from that world, unless hip-hugging pants and tight-fitting halter tops are now Upper East Side staples.

She’s got sandals with Roman laces on her feet, which is hardly a sensible choice for the woods, but hopefully she packed more location-appropriate garments in the purple wheelie bag she drags behind her.

When David introduces me as the nanny, I almost look around for another Izzy, someone who is exceptional at time management, maybe speaks a foreign language (it’s so good for the kids), knows how to cook, and can turn a ball of yarn into an age-appropriate craft project.

It takes a beat too long to realize she is me, but I extend my hand in time.

It goes first to Judgy Julia and then to Christian, who seems friendly and easygoing enough.

But at this point, the dog has my vote for best member of the family.

“We got super lucky with Izzy,” says David. “Our last nanny quit without warning. Left us in a real pickle. Thankfully, Izzy answered our ad. We’ve only got her for vacation, but we’re hoping she’ll stay with us for the rest of the summer.”

I smile at David like it’s a real possibility. “Why don’t I take the twins inside and get them settled,” I say, hoping I sound like someone who has an actual clue.

David’s eyes light up. He takes out his phone and presses some buttons. A noise emanates from the house, as if the structure is talking to him.

“The home is fully remote,” he boasts. “Heat, AC, alarms, locks, lights—everything is controlled by an app.”

He presses another button that lowers a massive cellular shade halfway down one of the large windows overlooking the lake. It’s pretty cool, though I suspect that shade costs half a semester’s tuition.

Julia is less enamored. She stands up straighter, glaring at David. “So much for our view through your windows,” she snips.

Wait, did my new boss knowingly block Judgy Julia’s view? Who does something like that to his friends?

David reverses the blind. “I’m not keeping it down,” he says. “That’s a promise. But Fiona and I need some privacy from time to time… if you know what I mean.”

He punctuates his unnecessary comment with a lecherous wink, which is repugnant, but perhaps not out of character. I recall the look he gave me in the car. I can’t help but wonder about the circumstances surrounding my predecessor’s sudden departure.

I decide to vacate before things get weirder. “Becca, Brody, let’s go inside,” I call out.

But as I look around, I realize the kids who had been jumping all over Taylor a second ago are nowhere to be seen. My heart leaps into my throat. Taylor is there, engrossed in her phone, but the kids are no longer with her.

I endure another stab of panic, thinking they’ve wandered off to the water.

A nightmarish vision of a massive police response three minutes into my job—boats dredging the lake—momentarily hijacks my brain.

But it’s quickly dispelled by a loud honk from Fiona’s Porsche.

Everyone jumps, eliciting laughter from Brody and Becca, who had snuck into the car unnoticed by me—their ever-watchful nanny.

I rush over to them, throwing Fiona a sheepish smile. I encourage both children to exit the vehicle before they’re inspired to press the horn again, or worse, hit the ignition button.

“Hey, Brody, Becca… let’s go inside. You must be hungry after the drive. I’ll fix us a snack.” David hired some local gofer to stock the fridge, so there should be plenty of options.

Both children follow me indoors without protest.

Before I go digging through the pantry, I pause to look around.

The furniture is primarily light-colored, all whites and light grays.

Great. The whole place is like a stain magnet.

I won’t let the kids snack on the pristine new couch, not that they’d even want to.

The cushions look like they’re made of cement.

What little art there is on the walls looks generic.

Even though it’s a warm summer day, it feels cold and barren inside, with the AC set to Arctic Blast.

A scent in the air reminds me of being in a furniture store. It’s that just-opened, freshly unwrapped odor, as if the entire house is off-gassing. This is in stark contrast to my home, which is warm and inviting, full of worn, comfortable chairs.

At least David took his children into consideration.

There are a pair of beanbag chairs in front of a television, perfect for munching on the cheese sticks, apple slices, and graham crackers I plate for them.

Just when I’m praising my nannying skills, the chilly air gets even colder as Fiona barges through the door, striding toward me in a huff.

She comes to an abrupt stop, her frosty blue eyes somehow fiery, mouth pressed into a thin, tight line of disapproval. “Please do not allow the children to use my Porsche as a toy,” she orders.

“But… but I didn’t,” I protest, unable to remove the shake from my voice. “As soon as I saw them, I brought them inside for a snack.”

“They shouldn’t have been in the car in the first place,” she snaps back. “A nanny should always be ahead of the game. If you’d been paying proper attention, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Fiona storms off before I can offer an apology.

I’m left feeling assaulted, like she slapped me across the face.

The nerve of that woman! She acts like she’s the expert on parenting, when I know for a fact she doesn’t have kids of her own.

And she’s not even my boss. I work for David, but I guess she’s marking her territory, and I just got sprayed.

A door closes softly to my right. Turning, I see Taylor setting down a couple of suitcases.

“Sorry, my mom wanted privacy to tear into David, so she asked me to help unpack his car. I didn’t mean to intrude.

” She offers an apologetic half smile that tells me she overheard the whole embarrassing exchange with Fiona.

Taylor adds, “For what it’s worth, she seems like a total bitch.

If you ever need to get away, come visit us—anytime. ”

“Thanks for the offer,” I say, meaning it. “At least with all these windows you’ll see if she tries to murder me in my sleep.”

We both laugh, lightening the mood.

“I’m Taylor,” she says.

“Izzy,” I return. “Really nice to meet you.”

And while I’m still reeling from Fiona’s lashing, I feel a small sense of relief that I might make a friend here after all. I just can’t get so close that she figures out my real reason for coming to the lake.