Natalie Hill
I drove up in my twelve-year-old white Volvo. When I purchased this car from my neighbor, it was in excellent condition. Though built like a tank, it's showing its age. When idling, I can hear a tick, tick, tick sound coming from the engine. I only hope it lasts me a few more months because right now I can't afford any repairs.
I came to a stop in front of the entrance. I leaned out the window and stretched to reach the buzzer. A voice came through the crackling noise of the black box.
"Yes, how can I help you?" The voice sounded similar to the one corresponding with me over the phone.
"Hi, my name is Natalie Hill, I'm here to see Mrs. Ross."
"Come through." She responded without identifying herself.
The towering wrought iron gate crept open, and I drove through. Gray and charcoal stones paved out the long drive to a two-story smooth gray stucco and glass contemporary home. The large windows that spanned the entire front of the house and surrounded the massive front doors reflected the morning sun. The landscape manicured to perfection; every shrub clipped, cleaned, and placed to match the rigid modern feel of the home.
I stepped out of my car and stared up at the towering structure, which after today might be my new home. Large slabs of bluestone lead to the front door. I quickly counted well over a dozen. Walking up the stairs, I noticed there was not a speck of debris; not a leaf, not a piece of mulch, not even a small bug dared to lay claim to this space.
I pressed the lighted button surrounded by a platinum back plate. A dull gong sounded on the other side of the door and the sound of heels clicking on the floor beneath them became louder as they approached the door.
As I expected, a woman answered the door wearing an elegant coffee-colored suit. The hem of her skirt appropriately stopped in the middle of her knee and the suit jacket tailored to fit her frame. At the sight of her, my back tensed and I straightened my shoulders.
"Hello, Natalie, come in please." She stood to the side leaving room for me to enter.
Walking past her, I quickly eyed the expansive space and noticed how clean the air smelled. It did not smell like pine, lemons, or chemical cleaner; it smelled fresh.
Tumbled marble floors extended back to an impressive floating staircase leading up to a second floor. Both sides of the foyer opened to large sunken rooms, and beyond the staircase, more open space lead to an enormous kitchen.
Towering white columns stood equally spaced on the edge of each room creating boundaries from room to room. Staring down the expansive space in front of me, I realized the one side of the house was a mirror image of the other with only the different furnishings distinguishing the two.
I faced her as she spoke. "Natalie, come sit in here."
She gestured to the room on the left where a huge couch covered in gray suede material took up most of the space. The silver gray area rug added warmth to the room, and the tables made of metal and stone contrasted the softness of the couch and the rug. A large espresso wood desk stood at the far end of the room. On top of the desk were papers organized in various piles and a landline phone placed in the right corner of the desk.
The house and its exquisite furnishings screamed money, a lot of money, but it also screamed something else.
Upon entering, a person became instantly aware of the owner. The owner seemed controlled, clean, neat, and there was no room to be any other way. To be anything else when in this space would be like an ink splatter bleeding on white silk. I wondered who was the control freak, Mr. or Mrs. Westlake?
I placed my bag on the floor next to me and sat on the severely tailored couch. While taking in the surrounding space, I felt insignificant and fidgeted.
"Natalie, I'm Mrs. Ross. It's nice to meet you in person." Mrs. Ross sat in one of the two matching chairs opposite me. "I read your folder and stared at your picture so often that I feel like I know you already."
"It's nice to meet you." I folded my hands on my lap. Next I unfolded them and dropped them to my sides, and finally, I moved my palms down on the tops of my thighs and rested them there. I couldn’t relax. Everything about the space and the woman intimidated me.
Mrs. Ross seemed like a lovely woman, but she dressed so neat and her clothes expensive that I became too aware of my appearance. I wished I could afford to wear something more business rather than business casual. My simple black pants and blouse were simple, clean, and pressed but made no statement.
Mrs. Ross was an older woman with sunken in cheeks. Although her pasty white face mimicked death, her molasses eyes gave warmth to her stern look.
"Now I know I’m repeating myself, but I want to make certain of a few more things before we continue in this process. First, I want you to ensure me you'll be comfortable living here year round." Before I answered, she added, "Even though the child is here only half the time."
"Yes, if that's what the family wants?" Unaware of normal protocol, being my first experience as a live-in nanny, I agreed to everything.
"It's Mr. Westlake. It's what Mr. Westlake wants." She hesitated as she rubbed the skin just under her ear. "Will you be comfortable living in the house even when the child is not home?" She scribbled something on a yellow pad resting on her lap. I felt like I said something wrong.
"I don't see why not? And Mrs. Westlake? Will I be dealing with her at all?" I asked, curious if she had a say in things.
"There is no Mrs. Westlake. They divorced years ago, and her name reverted to her maiden name as a condition of the settlement. You will have no contact with Erin's mother." Mrs. Ross looked at my bag on the floor. "It's all stated in the contract."
"Yes, I read it, but it only mentioned communication with Erin’s other nanny. It omitted Erin’s mother, so I was unaware of any protocol." I didn't know what to think of the situation, but it didn't matter. I needed a job, and this job solved many of my current problems. I needed a roof over my head, I needed money, and I needed obscurity. "Do you live here?"
"No. I come in three times a week. I take care of Mr. Westlake's estate, his mail, and other pertinent business. There is a cleaning crew that comes in every Friday."
"And Mr. Westlake? How often is he here?" I asked.
"He comes and goes as he pleases." She rubbed that same spot just under her ear. "Any questions?"
"Is he a kind man?" I thought my question fair since I would live under this stranger's roof and because I would be alone with the man half the time. "I mean will I feel comfortable living here with him."
"In answer to your first question, he’s indifferent." She rubbed that same spot again. "But you won't be unhappy. It is a pleasant house, and Erin is a delightful child. Just expect little from Mr. Westlake. He says few words and prefers solitude, but you should not fear him. Though he may seem off-putting, he is kind in his way."
"Is this the final interview?" With two hundred and three dollars to my name and nowhere to live, I needed this job desperately. Luckily, an old coworker took pity on me and allowed me to stay with her until I found employment. Sleeping on my coworker's couch for the past five weeks, although I appreciated it, would not suffice for much longer. I knew I needed to move on.
"We've done an extensive background check on you. Mr. Westlake found everything satisfactory. Your education is extensive, and you graduated from one of the top schools in the country. Your references spoke highly of you stating you are a charming and kind young woman," she took in a deep breath and rubbed that spot again, "and Mr. Westlake reviewed your file along with your headshot, drug test, doctor's report and your credit report and felt satisfied with everything. He’d like to offer you the position."
"He doesn't want to meet me in person before he hires me?" I thought for sure I would meet my employer before being offered the position or accepting it.
"Mr. Westlake travels a lot for business; he is often away. He relies on my opinion and trusts my feedback." Rubbing that spot, again. "If you accept the position, you must sign the two-year contract. You received the copy I sent you, correct?"
"I already signed the contract and made sure I initialed each page as it said." Mrs. Ross sent me a copy of the contract last week after I spoke to her, so I knew in advance what was expected of me before they offered me the position. I knew if offered the position, I would accept no matter what.
Although it was in his right to fire me, I felt relieved to know I had employment for at least two years. The money I could save in the next two years made up for the money I lost. The job paid more in one year than my job at the university did in three, and it offered free room and board and food.
My responsibility will be to care for and teach a nine-year-old girl named Erin Westlake. I will homeschool her when she is at her father's house, which is every other week. When she is with her mother, a different nanny takes over. The other nanny and I are to communicate through email on the progress of Erin's studies, and any other means of communication is unacceptable.
"Then I expect you brought the signed copy of the contract with you."
I searched through my bag and various folders for the black folder with embossed silver writing on the front that read Westlake Enterprises. I pulled out the signed contract and handed it over to Mrs. Ross.
"Any further questions?" She asked.
"No." I read the contract three times looking for some loophole but found nothing. This job felt too good to be true, but I had nothing to lose.
"Any reservations regarding the requirements asked of you." She scanned through the detailed pages of the contract.
"No, it's laid out clearly in the contract. Some of the details I found a little odd, like being required to be on birth control." I mentioned it, but it didn't deter me. I had been on birth control for years; I couldn’t comprehend why it was part of the job requirement.
"Mr. Westlake wants to ensure there are no surprises that could prevent you from finishing the two years required of you."
"What happened to the last nanny?"
"She unfortunately died. She played a significant part in raising Mr. Westlake. When Mr. Westlake bought this house, he brought her in as the housekeeper, and later her role changed to Erin's nanny."
"That’s awful. She must have been like a mother to him. Mr. Westlake must have felt it acutely."
"One would think." She abruptly changed the subject. "You will move in tomorrow. Your direct deposit begins next Friday. I’ll show you to your suite and give you keys, the gate and alarm code."
"Will Mr. Westlake be here when I move in?"
"No one ever knows when Mr. Westlake will be here. He tells no one of his comings and goings, and we don't ask." She rubbed that spot once again. "Now, let me give you a quick tour before you leave."
"And this is my only orientation before coming on board?" Now I became concerned. Moving into a stranger’s house after only a quick tour seemed too odd.
"Yes, but you’ll be fine. The one thing that Mr. Westlake stressed to me when we last spoke was he wants you to feel at home. So even in his absence, you should treat this house as your home."
Mrs. Ross started the tour with the downstairs. We breezed through all the main living areas of the home. The rooms were spacious and expertly decorated. There was a minimalist feel but still an air of coziness. There was a private suite tucked away down a long hallway at the far corner of the main floor of the living area which I assumed will be where I stay.
We then stepped out into the backyard. "I should add that you should feel at home except for guests. He prefers you entertain guests outside the home on non-Erin weeks. When Erin is here, she gets your full attention."
"That goes without saying." Unfortunate for me but fortunate for Mr. Westlake I had no friends. My last relationship ruined all chances of fostering lasting friendships. And even my acquaintances wanted nothing to do with me, but I understood. My ex-boyfriend was detrimental to me and anyone associated with me.
"I thought it would be, but I need to mention it." Mrs. Ross stepped back into the house while I glanced over the beautiful backyard one last time before we moved on to the rest of the house.
She walked me downstairs to the fitness studio, the space larger than some commercial spaces I’ve seen. Before now, I never considered I could cancel my gym membership. This job got better by the second. I would recoup all my money and more in no time.
We made our way back upstairs to the top floor where Mrs. Ross showed me my suite. "I'll be sleeping up here with the family?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No, I assumed I would be downstairs."
"Mr. Westlake wants you upstairs." Mrs. Ross continued with the tour.
I followed behind her after glancing back into my suite. She pointed to six more doors. The first, Erin's room, next, two guest bedrooms and two more bathrooms, and Mr. Westlake's room.
"Tomorrow you can check everything out. I need to get back to my husband, so if you don't mind, we'll stop here."
We locked up the house together and drove off down the driveway. From her car window, she waved, and I waved back. I pulled out as anticipation of my new life took over. I rolled down my windows and blasted my music. Tomorrow could not come fast enough. Tonight would be my last night sleeping on a couch and today would be my last day of being broke.