The sun makes me squint, so I pull my sunglasses out of my purse. It’s a short walk to Charlotte’s school, and it’s such a nice day. The air is cool—a refreshing change after the heat we had a few weeks ago. Now it feels like fall. Maybe I’ll see if Charlotte wants to go to the park before we go home. We don’t have anything planned this afternoon.

A few of the moms stand in a little half-circle near the classroom door. They glance at me when I approach. The looks they give me aren’t exactly friendly, so I usually keep my distance. I don’t know why they look at me that way. They don’t know me. In fact, they’ve never tried to talk to me. Granted, I don’t try to talk to them either, but who can blame me? It’s not even shyness at this point; some of them just don’t seem very friendly.

I lean against the short fence that runs around the small courtyard in front of the classrooms. A few more moms wander over, a couple of them pushing strollers. I glance up at the small group by the door and I see one of them say the word nanny.

Wow, I think they’re talking about me.

I got good at reading lips when I was little. Being quiet doesn’t mean you aren’t paying attention—quite the opposite—and I noticed everything. It became a habit to watch people’s mouths to see what they were saying. I didn’t realize until I was older that in a lot of situations, it’s rude.

This time, I don’t care if I’m basically eavesdropping from across the courtyard. They’re not trying very hard to hide that they’re discussing me. Maybe because I have sunglasses on and it looks like I’m not paying attention to them.

It’s obvious why he hired her, one woman says. Another woman leans closer to her. Do you think he sleeps with all of them? The first woman nods. Why do you think he goes through so many nannies?

I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is that what they think of me? What they think of Caleb? It’s not his fault he went through so many nannies; it wasn’t because he was sleeping with them. And he’s certainly not sleeping with me.

Not that I would object if he wanted to…

Cool it, Linnea. Calm those traitor hormones. Do I have to remind myself—again—of all the reasons Caleb is off limits?

The friendly mom, as I’ve been calling her in my head, arrives. She’s super cute in a gray cardigan over a pink t-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair is cut short, and like usual, she’s wearing a brightly colored cloth headband. Today’s is pink and orange paisley.

She stands close enough that I could start a conversation if I wanted. I’ve thought about it so many times, but I’ve never been good at making the first move—not with men, or potential friends. But maybe I should just suck it up. I glance at the women who were talking about me, but they aren’t looking in my direction anymore.

I slip off my sunglasses and make eye contact. My heart starts to beat faster, but I take a deep breath. “Hi. Sorry, I see you all the time and I’ve never introduced myself. I’m Linnea.”

She smiles. “Megan. It’s nice to meet you. Your little girl is…?”

“Charlotte,” I say. “But I’m her nanny.”

“Oh, I see,” she says. “My son is Noah.”

I get a little tongue-tied at that point because I’m not quite sure what to say next. I want to explain that I’m not just Charlotte’s nanny—I’m her aunt—but now it seems strange to say it. Just when the silence is about to get awkward, Megan leans closer and lowers her voice.

“You know, I’ve noticed that Charlotte and Noah seem to have a little something in common,” she says.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m in the same boat,” she says. “But the other kids come out laughing and run to their moms. But Charlotte always looks so serious. I only noticed it because Noah is the same way.”

“Charlotte’s shy,” I say. “I think some people assume she’s mad or pouting, but she’s actually feeling anxious and scared.”

“Oh, poor sweetie,” Megan says. “Noah’s his dad’s mini-me, which means he’s stoic and grumpy.”

I laugh and Megan laughs along with me. We glance over as Ms. Peterson opens the door.

One by one, the first graders come out. Megan is right, most of them run, hop, or skip to their parent. There’s a pause, and a little dark-haired boy comes out. He’s wearing a blue t-shirt and his green backpack looks enormous on him.

“Hey, kiddo,” Megan says.

Noah shuffles over to her, and he does look a little sullen. He leans against her and she gives him a hug.

Charlotte is a few seconds behind him. She comes out with her eyes locked on the ground, her back stiff and straight. I always get a pang of sadness when she comes out of the classroom. I wish she didn’t struggle so much.

“Hi, Bug,” I say softly and crouch down. She slips her arms around my neck and I snuggle her for a long moment, feeling her relax. I don’t ask her if she’s okay anymore. It’s always on the tip of my tongue, but I know if there’s something bothering her, she won’t tell me about it yet. I have to give her a little time.

I stand and smooth her hair down.

“Hey, what do you think about bringing Charlotte over for a playdate?” Megan asks.

I get a little ping of excitement at the idea. Maybe this would help Charlotte make a friend. That would be so amazing. I glance down at her. “What do you think? Would you like to go have a playdate at Noah’s house?”

She tucks her hand in mine, but her grip stays light. It takes her a second to respond, but I can tell this isn’t making her nervous; if it was, she’d be holding onto me with her death grip. She meets my eyes and nods.

It’s such a little thing, but I’m flooded with happiness. “Okay, good. Yeah, we’d love to.”

“If you don’t mind being spontaneous, and the very high possibility of a messy house, you guys could come over now,” she says. “If you don’t have other plans, obviously.”

“Sure,” I say. “We don’t have any plans today.”

“Awesome. We live just up the street,” Megan says with a smile.

Megan’s house is lovely. It’s set back from the street with a trim front yard. Hanging baskets spill dark green ivy near the door. Inside is small, but cozy. The front area has a living room with a couch facing a TV, and a fireplace on the side wall. Further in is a kitchen with pretty white cabinets and yellow walls. She sets her things down on the kitchen table and asks Charlotte and Noah what they want for a snack.

While she busies herself in the kitchen, I coax Charlotte into a chair at the table. Noah sits across from her, but he doesn’t say anything. A few minutes later, Megan brings over a plate of apple slices and a bowl of pretzels.

“Can I make you some coffee or something?” Megan asks once the kids are busy eating.

“Tea would be nice, thanks.”

She makes us both a mug of tea, and when the kids are finished snacking, Noah asks Charlotte if she wants to go play. To my relief, Charlotte nods—she even smiles—and follows him down the hallway.

“Wow,” Megan says. “That was easy.”

“Yeah it was,” I say. “This is so nice. Charlotte has a hard time making friends.”

“Noah does too,” she says. “I worry about him, but my husband always assures me he’ll be fine. James was the same way when he was little, and he turned out okay. He’s still a serious guy, but I was able to teach him how to smile, at least.”

I laugh, a vision of breezy, colorful Megan with a stiff and stoic husband flashing through my mind. “Sounds like you complement each other.”

“We do.” She takes sip of her tea. “You know, it’s surprising to me that you’re Charlotte’s nanny.”

“Why?”

“You seem closer to her than that,” she says. “She was in Noah’s class last year, and there were a few different girls who picked her up. I could tell they were nannies. They acted like babysitters. But I really thought you might be her mom. I wondered if maybe you worked before and your schedule changed or something.”

“Well, I’m more than her nanny,” I say. “I’m her aunt. She’s my sister’s daughter. But my sister was killed in a car accident when Charlotte was a baby.”

“Oh my god,” Megan says. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, suddenly thinking about Caleb. About how hard it must have been to lose his wife. It reminds me that I’m just his wife’s little sister—and how ridiculous this crush really is. “It was hard. But Charlotte’s dad is an amazing father, so that helps.”

“That’s good,” she says.

She asks a little more about me, so I tell her that I play piano, and about getting my music degree. When she asks about becoming a nanny, I find myself spilling the whole story: how my parents made the decision without me, and probably pushed Caleb into it too. But also how great it’s been since I moved out here—how much I love what I’m doing now.

“You’re so good with her,” Megan says. “You’re always so gentle.”

“I was a lot like her,” I say. “I understand what she feels like, I guess.”

Megan smiles. “She’s lucky to have you. Definitely have kids someday. You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not really in a position where that’s going to happen any time soon. But I’d love to.”

Megan pauses and lifts her eyebrows. “Do I hear laughing?”

The sound of Charlotte’s giggle mingled with Noah’s laughter drifts down the hall. “I think you do. It sounds like they’re having fun.”

“Okay, it’s official,” Megan says. “I’m adopting you. You’re nice, easy to talk to, you don’t seem to be judging my messy house, and our kids are having fun. We have to do this again.”

“I would love that,” I say. “How about we have you over next time?”

“Done,” she says. “Anytime. Just let me know.”

I chat with Megan for a little while longer, then round up Charlotte to go home. She’s reluctant to leave, and Noah is reluctant to let her go, which makes both Megan and me almost squeal with glee. We promise both kids they’ll see each other at school tomorrow, and we’ll have another playdate very soon.

Caleb’s car is already in the driveway when we walk up to the house. I check my phone, worried he might have texted to see where we are, but I don’t have any messages. We go inside and I hear Caleb talking. I pause just inside the door while Charlotte takes her shoes off.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Caleb says. He must be on the phone. “I’m looking forward to it… All right, perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

I hesitate, even after Charlotte runs in to find him. Who was he talking to? It sounded like he was making plans. That couldn’t have been a date, could it? There was something in his voice that makes me wonder—a note of affection, maybe?

“There’s my favorite girl!”

What am I thinking? It’s none of my business. He could have been talking to Kendra, or his dad. And even if he was making plans with a woman, it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I certainly don’t have the right to an opinion on what he does in his free time—or who he spends it with. He’s a single adult—there’s nothing wrong with him dating.

Pushing aside the unease in my tummy, I head to the kitchen to see what he wants to do for dinner.