Page 12 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

HANNAH

“Have another,” Dottie says, smiling at Ollie, who’s already eaten three cookies. “A young man needs plenty of fuel.”

Maybe Travis will be pissed off by the astronomical amount of sugar that’s currently being pumped into Ollie’s bloodstream—he’s drinking sweet tea on top of all those cookies—but I figure that’ll be a problem for later.

A problem for him . It may be a mark of evil, but the thought of Ollie zooming around the house while Travis scratches his head in confusion amuses me.

But that’s not why I’m being an accessory to excessive sugaring.

Ollie could use some pampering, and there’s no better pamperer than Dottie Hendrickson, who in addition to being the owner of Tea of Fortune is also Sophie’s former next-door neighbor.

She’s eighty or so, with dyed purple hair and a seriously enviable collection of dresses. The woman still works at her dream job—a tea shop that offers tea-leaf readings. The woman’s a true boss, and a perfect Nanny Rose stand-in for Ollie.

But it would be pretty messed up of me to hang out with Sophie’s former neighbor without inviting her to join us, especially since I knew Sophie’s boyfriend would be here, so of course I asked her to come too.

She’s sitting across from me, beaming at Ollie as if eating cookies were an Olympic sport and he’s about to bring home the gold.

I didn’t want Briar to feel left out, so I asked if she could duck out of work to come, too.

She hates playing hooky—she’s a bit like Travis when it comes to rule following, but she’s here anyway, sitting next to Sophie and watching the door as if her father—who’s also her boss—might storm in any second and say, Where have you been, young lady?

Travis is sitting at the farthest table from the door with Rob and Bixby, the bassist for Garbage Fire, who showed up several minutes after the other two. Of course, Travis being Travis, he took the seat facing us so he could keep an eye on me and Ollie.

The lack of trust would be devastating if I didn’t have the strong impression he wants to keep his eye on everyone, all the time, and not just me.

Also, if it weren’t deserved.

“Can anyone at this table read lips?” I ask casually.

“Oh, it’s too bad my friend Ann isn’t here,” Dottie says, glancing around as if Ann might pop out from behind a corner.

“She’s nearly deaf without her hearing aids, poor dear, but she does have a talent for reading lips.

You know, I was practicing it with her the other day, so I could give it a try. ”

“I want to do it!” Ollie says, practically bouncing in his seat.

“I don’t think we should spy on them,” Sophie says hesitantly. “They’re just talking about finding a new rhythm guitarist for the band.”

Sophie’s already filled me in on what happened at the brewery last night. Apparently, there’s some producer who’s interested in them, but he insisted they need to have a fourth band member because threesomes aren’t as bankable .

Yeah, that’s not quite how she said it, but it’s how she should have said it.

It’s a promising development, so I wonder why Travis seemed a bit down when he came home last night. Maybe Big Catch’s new evening floor manager is bad enough that he brings everyone down, a thought that probably shouldn’t delight me as much as it does.

“If it’s not a private conversation, then there’s no harm in practicing our skills,” Dottie says, surprisingly into the idea. “Let me switch places with you, Hannah.”

We get up and shuffle around, and I notice Travis angling his head, watching us. His expression says, very clearly, What the hell are you up to?

I give him a jaunty wave.

“Now, the trick is to watch the shape of their lips, Ollie,” Dottie tells him. “Can you see the shape your dad’s lips are making right now?”

I twist in my seat to watch Travis’s lips move.

Huh, he has nice lips. Nice lips that are forming what looks like…

“Did he just say my name?” I hiss, turning toward Dottie.

She gives me an encouraging smile. “Oh, I should think so, dear. More than once. How exciting!”

“I certainly hope he said something like, ‘Thank God for Hannah,’” I mutter. “‘My ship would really be sunk if not for Hannah.’ ‘Hannah is a goddess among women.’”

“I don’t think that’s what he said at all,” Ollie says, going for gold and grabbing another cookie. “It looked like he said trouble or maybe bubble.”

“Hm.” Dottie peers intently at their table at the back of the shop. “Rob just said your name too.”

I sigh dramatically. “Fantastic.”

“This is what you get for spying on people,” Briar says stoically.

“Two weeks ago, I eavesdropped at my dad’s office door, because I was hoping he might say something about when he’s moving on from Silver Star, but I overheard him telling my mom that I have no backbone, and the only way I’m going to learn how to swim is if he throws me in the deep end.

It was a mixed metaphor, which somehow only made it worse. ”

Briar’s father is an obscenely wealthy man who enjoys opening businesses every five to six years, only to sell or shutter them and start the next “big” thing.

He started Silver Star Brewery five years ago, and according to her, he got bored with it a year or so ago, around the same time her handmade jewelry business folded.

So he suggested handing over the brewery to her.

But as with most things in life, there are conditions.

She sighs. “So he said he was going to put me through—” She darts a glance at Ollie and lowers her voice, “—h-e-double-hockey-sticks?—”

“I can spell, Briar,” Ollie says.

She mouths sorry at me, then tries again, “Through…you-know-what…to toughen me up. He called it Briar Boot Camp. He thinks it’s the only way I’ll become strong enough to run a successful business.”

“God, Briar, that’s horrible,” Sophie says.

“And very untrue,” I add.

“But it is true,” she says, playing with a lock of her hair.

“My jewelry business failed because my business partner was embezzling. Like, not even being terribly subtle about it. I thought something was weird, but the accounting wasn’t one of my responsibilities.

So I let it slide, and the next thing I know, she’s in Jamaica drinking mai tais on the beach, and all the accounts were drained.

” She twists her mouth to the side. “She told me she was really sorry, but she had to put her needs before mine.”

“Holy shit,” I say, then glance at Ollie. “Sorry, Ollie. ”

He shrugs. “Shit and poop mean the same thing. It’s kind of a dumb swear.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it in front of you.”

Sophie reaches for Briar’s hand. “Briar, that’s awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s mostly embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than dating Jonah?” I ask.

Briar heaves another sigh. “The fact that I dated an engaged man without realizing it after my business partner stole all of our money right under my nose makes me think I really am na?ve. I’ve been doing all of this yoga and meditation to try to clear my mind, but my inner voice is too loud.”

Dottie clucks her tongue. “We just need to try different types of meditation. There’s one that works for everyone.”

“Not me,” I say with a snort.

“Or me,” Ollie says, but I have a feeling he has no idea what meditation is and is just being loyal. I reach over the table and ruffle his hair.

“Thanks,” Briar says with a tight smile. “I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, that’s why my dad’s so hard on me. He thinks he can trick me into being tough. It comes from a good-ish place.”

“You’re already plenty tough,” I say. “He should have seen you TP Jonah’s house.”

“You threw toilet paper all over someone’s house?” Ollie asks, his eyes shining. “I saw that happen in a movie.”

“It was Uncle Rob’s brother,” I say, “and trust me when I say he deserved it. But you’re not supposed to TP houses or listen in at doors.”

There, that’s a good lesson. Take that, Travis. I can totally be a good influence.

“I know all about listening at doors,” Ollie says, returning his gaze to the back of the tea shop. “That’s how I found out Travis was my father. My dad—Roland, I mean—he said he didn’t ever want to see me again, because I wasn’t really his son and he’d already wasted enough money on me.”

I grit my teeth, knowing better than to tell him exactly what I think of his mom and his not-a-dad.

“Have another cookie, dear,” Dottie says, cupping her hand over his. “You have as many as you like. They were baked with love, and you can never have too much love.”

He smiles at her, and I feel another strange sensation in the heart region of my chest.

“Hey, Ollie,” Sophie says, with a slight smile. “Hannah told us you’re going to be spending time together in the afternoons, and I was thinking we could try out some crafts together. You can be the test audience for my crafting business.”

“Only if they’re not lame,” he says with typical honesty.

She gives him a serious nod. “You’d help make sure that doesn’t happen. It’s an important job. Friends don’t let friends be lame.”

He seems impressed by this, and I smile at Sophie, who obviously is way better with kids than I’ll ever be.

“We’ll take you up on that,” I say.

“Yeah,” Ollie says. “Thank goodness Hannah is finally my nanny now.” His face creases into a frown. “I think Travis just said your name again, Hannah. He’s frowning.”

“Dammit,” I say, then catch myself. “Sorry. I meant…”

“That’s okay,” he says. “I know all about swearing. Roland produced a lot of rap music, and sometimes rappers would come over and freestyle.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yeah,” he says with a slight smile. “It was cool. They didn’t invite me, or anything, but it was a big house, and Nanny Rose took plenty of naps. A lot of times no one noticed if I was in the room.”

That’s it. I want to destroy these people. I want to vanquish them so thoroughly there’s nothing left behind but a scorch mark.