Chapter Seven

First came the etiquette class.

Audrey ushered Cole into a room set up to resemble a large living room. Should she sit on a sofa? Wait in the hall? A cluster of nannies leaned against the back wall, so she joined them. They whispered hello and made wall space for her.

It felt strange to be visiting another school when her own summer morning classes were in session, but it also felt like an amazing opportunity to see how other people handled their classrooms. The teacher, an elegant woman in understated Chanel and pearls, started by simply asking, “Who likes to have friends?” Every child in the room raised a hand. Just by asking that question, the teacher won over every kid in the class.

She gave a short lesson in polite ways to meet people so that they would become new friends. Then each child was given a different ink stamp and a sheet of sturdy cardboard marked into a grid. They were told to go around the room to practice meeting people and to fill their grids with stamps from their new friends. Soon, the room echoed with little voices piping, “Hello, how do you do, pleased to meet you.”

Clever. Audrey squatted down against the back wall and scrawled notes in her pocket notebook. A lesson like this would be a great way to kick off fall classes and would ensure that the kids met each other first thing on the first day. And of course, since parents were always invited to visit that day, it would also show Miss Turner’s School to best advantage. “We share your commitment to ensuring that your children are not merely well-educated, but well-mannered, too,” Audrey could say to prospective parents. They’d eat it up, and rightly so.

When etiquette practice time was up, the teacher settled the children on sofas ringing a huge coffee table. She invited each child to show off his or her cardboard sheets covered in bright stamps.

“Cole, your sheet is empty,” the teacher said. Audrey frowned. She’d watched Cole moving through the throng and had seen other children reach out to him with their stamping pens.

“I didn’t get stamps. I got tattoos.” Cole held his arms straight up into the air. They were covered with round blotches resembling purple butterflies, yellow smiley faces, blue footprints, and countless other colorful shapes. The teacher blinked, rattled her pearl rope necklace, then moved on to the next child.

Audrey shook her head and drew a giant “X” through the notes she’d just made. One thing she tried never to do was send her students home in desperate need of a bath. She only hoped the stamps would wash off before Dennis saw them.

<<<>>>

Audrey sat in a gray steel folding chair against the back wall of the cooking classroom, their last scheduled activity of the day. She’d selected the chair closest to the corner with a single seat separating her from the other nannies. It wasn’t that she was anti-social. But it had been a whirlwind day, and Audrey wanted time to organize her growing pile of notes.

As she squirmed on the hard metal seat, one decision became final. She would place comfortable chairs in the school lobby for those who wanted to wait inside for classes to finish. Audrey opened her bag and fished out pocket notebook with random notes scrawled on the pages. She’d always thought of herself as an organized person, but her note jumble next to Dennis’s binder made her reconsider.

Oh, well, I get the job done.

For the moment, Cole seemed to be content. He sat quietly and paid attention, which was much better than his behavior in the etiquette class. Maybe his obedient demeanor signaled that he was over his earlier disruptive mood.

A dietitian explained the difference between healthy food and junk food, then passed out plastic containers of round apple slices, peanut butter, raisins, and thin carrot shavings. The kids set about making apple faces as the dietitian talked about food groups. Audrey saw Cole sneak a raisin. Well, he was probably hungry. Acting up required a lot of energy.

“Psst!” Audrey heard the insistent whisper. A row of nanny heads were all turned in her direction, friendly and welcoming.

“You’re new,” the closest nanny whispered.

“No, she’s not,” said a dark-haired young girl a few seats down. “You’re Miss Turner.”

“Miss Turner, as in Miss Turner’s School?” the closest nanny stage-whispered.

Audrey nodded.

“Aah, you’re the culprit,” an older blonde nanny whispered.

“What do you mean?” Audrey asked.

The blonde nanny jerked her chin in the direction of a tiny girl sucking peanut butter off a blunt plastic knife. “Little Miss Beatrice over there didn’t get in. Her mother had a migraine for two weeks.”

The other nannies nodded and chuckled conspiratorially.

“Mine got wait-listed,” said another. “They were trying to figure out if they should invite you to dinner to meet Hank. He’s that one over there, the one in the striped shirt.”

Audrey glanced at Hank, who was bent over his apple slice in studious concentration, the tip of his tongue sticking out. “Believe me, I wish we could admit every student that applies. We just don’t have enough classroom space. I’m looking to open a satellite location soon.”

The nanny who had recognized her seemed to be acting as spokesperson for the entire group. “What are you doing here, Miss Turner?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question.” Audrey wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “It’s kind of a long story. One of my students needed someone to fill in for his nanny while she’s on vacation.”

“But why would you do it?” the one closest to her whispered. “You can’t possibly need the money.”

Well, that was a bit personal. “Let’s just say I have an ulterior motive.”

“Which one of you belongs to this young man?” The dietitian’s voice sounded as loud and jarring as a fire alarm after all the whispering. Audrey turned toward the dietitian. The woman’s hands gripped Cole firmly by the shoulders.

“Oh, no.” Audrey could not keep the dismay from her voice. “Cole, what have you done?”

His brown hair was plastered with peanut butter and carrot curls. He’d used the peanut butter to glue rows of raisins above his eyebrows and over his lip.

“I made myself into a fruit face. I even have a raisin mustache.” He touched his upper lip and several gloppy raisins dropped to the floor. But Cole didn’t watch the raisins fall. He was staring directly at Audrey with the same sneaky, proud look that had flitted across his face several times that day.

“I can’t believe you. You’re going straight into the bathtub, young man.” Audrey accepted a wad of paper towels from the dietitian and made a feeble attempt at cleaning the top of Cole’s head. Behind her, she heard one nanny gasp.

“Oh! I think I just figured out Miss Turner’s ulterior motive! That little boy is Cole Delaney. Have you guys seen the father? He’s single. And hot. Very definitely hot, in a Heathcliff kind of way.”

A chorus of giggles frothed from the nannies. Audrey blushed and ducked her head low as she pulled Cole by the hand toward the door.

“Bye, Miss Turner. Or should that be, Mrs. Delaney!” A chorus of giggles followed Audrey and Cole out of the classroom.