Page 54 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

HANNAH

“Well, aren’t you a pretty young thing,” Dottie says sweetly to Lilah, who gives her first genuine smile of the day.

I grit my teeth.

We’re sitting at Travis’s kitchen table, drinking tea from a china set I can only assume Dottie brought over herself or purchased for Travis on an earlier occasion, because I’ve never seen it before.

“Thank you,” Lilah says, throwing a haughty look my way as if she expects me to repeat the compliment.

It’ll be a cold day in hell.

Logically, I know I can’t bitch-slap Ollie’s mom, but that doesn’t make me want to do it any less.

I don’t just hate her for that little boy’s sake.

I also hate her for what she’s done to Travis.

This woman has caused him so much pain—first, for throwing him out like discarded tissue paper, and second, for hiding his son from him.

She’s got a permanent place on my shit list.

“Dottie says that to literally everyone,” I say. Because if I can’t bitch-slap this woman, I can at least prick her ego.

Lilah glowers at me .

“Now, it’s natural for Hannah to be protective of her man,” Dottie says, nodding to me.

“She should be. And she’s taken such good care of your son.

He’s blossomed over the last few weeks. It’s been lovely to see.

” She sets a hand over Lilah’s, and to my surprise Lilah doesn’t pull away.

“We all want what’s best for Ollie. That’s what joins us together at this table. ”

“I do want what’s best for him,” Lilah says. Her eyes look dewy with emotion, and I’m guessing she hopes there’s a hidden camera in the wall.

“Of course,” Dottie agrees. “And you also need to look out for yourself.” She takes a contemplative sip of tea. “Because if this goes to court, and the judge sides against you, you might have to pay child support to Travis. That could be a financial strain.”

“I don’t have an income,” Lilah says, pulling her hand away, her tone frosty again.

“Oh, you poor thing. Do you need help finding a job?”

I look at sweet Dottie in wonder, because damn, this woman is a force of nature. I already knew that, but here she is proving it to me again, in a different way.

“No,” Lilah says. “I’m in the middle of a divorce. My soon-to-be ex-husband is a very wealthy man.”

“I hope he gives you your fair share,” Dottie says, clucking her tongue. “I’ve been through a divorce myself. Did you sign one of those agreements?”

“Yes,” Lilah says. “But we were married for over seven years, so the settlement will be substantial.”

“That’s lucky, but when you’re doing your budgeting, my dear, make sure you consider that any assets you have will be considered by the court if they grant Travis primary custody.

Their decisions aren’t solely based on income.

One of my dear friends is a family law attorney here in town, and she has all kinds of stories.

You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve heard. ”

“He won’t get primary custody if I ask for it,” Lilah snaps, pushing her teacup away. “They always favor the mother.”

I snort. “Tell that to my father. My mother abandoned us too, for over a year. She came back, but the judge sided with my father. It’s a good thing, too, because she instantly took off again.”

“I’ve been gone for less than two months.”

I tilt my head, studying her. Seeing the uneasiness in her gaze. “Maybe,” I say, “but you also left him with someone he didn’t know. My mother left us with the man who’d raised us. I’m guessing a judge will have thoughts about that.”

“Oh, dear,” Dottie says, tsking. “Yes, you were lucky that Travis is such a good man. Plenty of the men I dated in my youth couldn’t be trusted with a houseplant, let alone a child. If he were less of a man, he might have treated the boy poorly as a kind of revenge.”

A hint of guilt flickers in Lilah’s eyes.

“Being a parent isn’t an easy job,” Dottie says ruminatively.

“The work is never-ending, day in, day out, week after week, month after month. My niece wasn’t suited for it, and it hurt my heart watching her struggle to give her little boy what he needed.

She left him with me, eventually, and I raised him with my whole heart.

My boy has a family of his own now. I couldn’t be prouder of him. ”

Lilah doesn’t say anything. She just takes a sip of her tea, her expression far-off.

“Now, drain that down, my girl,” Dottie says. “I have a talent for reading tea leaves.”

“You do?” Lilah says, and I can already tell she’s ready to be a true believer.

“Oh yes, it’s my calling. ”

I watch Dottie closely, certain she has a plan, while Lilah gulps her tea down to the dregs and hands the cup over.

“I sense this is a very significant cup,” Dottie says, which is BS, but Lilah, who clearly thinks she has main character energy, perks up.

We both watch with interest as Dottie does the song and dance of turning the cup over, rotating it, and then flipping it again. She does it with the finesse of a magician—and then gasps theatrically as she peers into it.

“I knew it,” she says.

“Knew what?” Lilah asks eagerly.

“Do you see those two shapes?” Dottie asks, pointing into the cup. Curiosity has me sliding out of my seat so I can check them out too. I have to swallow the laughter that bubbles up. The “shapes” look like two blotches, one larger and more stretched out than the other.

“This one”—Dottie points to the bigger blotch—“is a bird, my dear. It symbolizes freedom and a coming voyage. The smaller one, there, is a suitcase.” She shifts her finger to point at the dregs flecking the edges.

“And those are waves. All of these shapes represent travel. I’m sensing there will be adventure in your future.

Oh, how glorious. Of course, the cups only show me possibilities—one path you could choose among many. ”

“A suitcase and waves?” Lilah asks, pointing to the smaller blotch. “Are you sure?”

Her energy has changed. She’s practically humming with excitement now.

“Oh, yes. It’s very clear to me,” Dottie says authoritatively, “and I’ve been doing this for years. Does this mean something to you, dear?”

“Yeah…yeah, it does.” She beams at Dottie, her smile annoyingly gorgeous. “You’re a genius. This is…this is going to work.”

I seriously hope not, because whatever her plan is has her practically jumping up and down with glee.

Then again, if this plan drives her away from us, I’ll begrudgingly let her have it, no matter how happy it makes her.

It’s definitely better than if she hangs around creating problems for Travis and Ollie.

“Thank you,” she says to Dottie, grinning.

Then she squeezes her hand and gets up from the table.

Ignoring my existence (which is just fine by me), she tells Dottie, “Tell Travis I’ll be in touch.

We have a lot to discuss, but I have a few calls to make, and I have some spa treatments lined up for the afternoon. ”

No mention of Ollie. No suggestion about coming over later to try to make things right with him.

I tighten my jaw. My initial judgment of her character was spot on: Lilah is Cunt-acula, Queen of Cunts.

“Do you need somewhere to stay, dear?” Dottie asks.

“Are you offering? How quaint. But no, I’m staying at the Grove Park Inn.”

Of course, she is. The Grove Park Inn is a gorgeous, sprawling hotel that looks like a huge gingerbread house and has sick mountain views. It’s also where every rich person who comes here stays. How original. I hope the Pink Lady, the Grove Park’s famous ghost, haunts her ass.

She waves at Dottie and then walks off, like she didn’t just torpedo our day. Seconds later, the front door opens and closes, and she’s finally gone.

“What the fuck was that all about?” I ask as Dottie gets up.

I watch her grab two juice glasses from the cupboard, then start laughing when she pours a finger of bourbon into each of them.

“We’re drinking?”

“Not me, dear. I have to go to the tea shop for a few hours, but I suspect Travis will need it when he gets back.” She returns to the table and hands one of the glasses to me. “And to answer your other question, I don’t know. But I felt certain she’d respond to those particular images.”

“Why, Dottie Hendrickson,” I say, grinning at her even though my heart is still thumping hard. “Did you just admit tea-leaf reading is a crock?”

“I’d never,” Dottie say. “But I may take a few liberties on occasion if I feel it’s important to get a certain message across.”

Well, I’ll be damned. I lift my glass to salute her before taking a sip.

We hear the front door open, and moments later, Travis hurries into the room, stopping beside me and glancing around wildly.

“Satan’s gone,” I say. “She told us she’ll be in touch later. She has spa treatments this afternoon.”

“This is for you, my dear,” Dottie says, pushing the bourbon toward him.

It’s very unlike Travis to break the rules, even unwritten social rules like don’t drink in the morning , but he downs it in a gulp and sinks into the chair next to me, running his hands through his freshly shorn hair.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of seeing that.

“What happened?” he asks, sounding dog-tired.

“Dottie pulled out all the stops and mind-melded her like a champ.”

“Now, I wasn’t trying to manipulate her,” Dottie says. “Manipulation is an ugly word. I wanted to help her see the greater good.”

“You’re a master manipulator for the force of good,” I tell her, “and we love you for it.”

“I have to go, my dears,” she says, clasping her hands together, “but let me just say how happy I am that you’ve come together. I hoped for it, of course, and Ollie and I did plant a good many pink crystals around this house. Now, I can’t wait to see who the universe has in mind for dear Briar. ”

“Are you going to try to dowse out an answer again?” I ask.

She smiles knowingly at me. “I just might.”

Then she leaves us alone, closing the door behind her.

I turn to Travis and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. “Go play in your music room,” I say. “It always helps when you’ve had a bad day.”

He kisses me on the lips, pulling me onto his lap.

“Who said it was a bad day? I knew she was coming back. She was always going to come back sometime. But Ollie called me Dad, Hannah,” he says, his voice shaking.

“He said he wants to stay here with me, and I already called my lawyer to talk about my next steps, and he sounds confident. So no, I can’t write it off as a bad day. ”

I run my fingers across his cheekbone, then kiss him—again and again, needing the rasp of his stubble against my cheeks and the hard press of his soft lips.

“I still think you should go play,” I say after a minute, forcing myself back. “This has been a lot.”

He nods and tucks a curl behind my ear. “I will. But I’m not going to lay down a beat. I’m going to play ‘Blue River’ on the guitar.” He grins. “And you’re going to sing with me. Tomorrow too. The Moroney Movers and Shakers need to ride again.”

“Are we bringing Liam in on this?” I ask, grinning, my heart full of him.

“Yes. We’re going to make a group effort to get Eugene laid.”

“God, I really love you.”