CHAPTER 10
The next day, late morning, Jane took Rochester on a very long walk to the Upper West Side to see Nana. Nana fussed over the dog, who found a nice spot on the small Sarouk carpet in the tiny living room and went to sleep. Jane put down a bunch of pee pads under Rochester’s rump, took off her coat, and hung it on the peg while Nana shuffled off to light the tiny burner in the galley kitchen. “Brought you something I think you’re gonna like,” Jane said. “It’s a new series. Book one.”
“I do like knowing there’s more to come,” Nana said, sticking a kettle on the stove and turning on the gas.
Jane smiled and leaned down to scratch Rochester behind the ears. “It’s called Under the Kilt. A comedy.”
“You think?” Nana asked.
Jane got up and stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen and glared at her grandma. “You sassing me, Nana?”
“Of course, darling.”
Jane didn’t want to watch the part where Nana’s fingers shook so hard it was tough for her to pour milk into the tiny china pitcher without spilling, so she focused on taking her thank-you-Nick-Dawes haul out of the reusable grocery sack and lining it up on the kitchen counter.
“So this is exciting,” Jane said. “I was running errands in the Flatiron over the weekend, and some company was giving out entire boxes of cookies as a sample. Can you believe that? I don’t want to think about how much that cost.”
“What brand?” Nana asked.
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “Some French-sounding thing.”
“You were given an entire box of cookies for free and you didn’t look at the brand?”
“I guess I don’t remember. Here.” She pointed at the box.
Nana shook her head and then went to retrieve the teacups from the china cabinet. She set them on the small, round tulip table made up with tatted white placemats and matching luncheon napkins. She put her hand on her hip. “That’s terrible marketing.”
Jane grinned. Nana used to be the head secretary in an advertising agency on Madison Avenue. Worked there for years until she was forced to retire—without any decent benefits. She was a tough broad and whip smart. Over time, she’d had a couple of affairs with some of the men in the office, but either they never asked for more, or she turned them down. Jane had never asked what it was like to be an unwed mother in those days, and no one ever spoke about who Nana’s baby daddy was. If Jane thought it was weird she had no idea who her grandfather was, her father certainly never acted like he had a problem with it. Maybe it was one of the reasons why her dad had such a disjointed view of family. Maybe it was why he thought nothing of disappearing on his own daughter . . .
The kettle whistled, and while Nana plated some cookies, Jane went back into the kitchen and poured the water through the strainer into a teapot and then set the kitchen timer for four minutes. “So, I started a new job.”
“You didn’t tell me you were looking for a new job,” Nana said, suspicion all over her face.
Oops. Did I seriously forget to mention that? Or did I purposely forget to mention that because, well, Mr. Dawes.
“That little shit,” Nana added, clearly referring to Jane’s ex.
“Yeah, right? Bill is a little shit,” Jane said, with her mouth full of lemon cookie.
Nana snickered, and Jane got that pang she’d started getting over the last couple of years since she finally had to acknowledge Nana’s hair turning white, and Nana’s shuffling gait, and Nana’s tremors. Her eyes filled with tears, thinking that this was the good stuff: Nana alive and laughing at the table over a cup of tea. And someday in the not-so-distant future she wouldn’t have this anymore. And she’d be alone.
“Are you all right, Jane?”
Jane looked down to where Nana’s hand gripped hers. “I love you, Nana,” she whispered.
“You’ll find someone,” Nana said, misunderstanding and understanding all at once. “I love you too. Now. Tell me about this new job.”
“It’s a short-term thing, but I couldn’t resist. I’m house-sitting for a rich guy, who’s basically given me carte blanche to buy whatever I need while I’m there for a month.”
“Fifth Avenue?” Nana asked, her eyes alight, ready for a fantasy like the ones she read about in books.
Jane hated to disappoint her. “Financial District. But you should see the view.”
“Why does everybody always say that?” Nana mused.
“No, seriously. Water, Woolworth, wow!”
Nana moved the conversation right back to where she wanted it: “Was it handled through an assistant, or did you meet the man?”
“I got it through a friend, but I interviewed with him personally. He’s . . . he’s . . .”
Nana got that stern look on her face. “Your boss. And probably another little shit. Tell me he’s way too old for you or at least unappealing.”
“Um.” Oh, crap. Was she blushing?
“Oh, Jane, darling. Not again. Those men take advantage of you. Your looks, you know. You’re so beautiful, even when you’re not trying. I know you imagine your weight is off-putting, but in my day, we didn’t consider it a liability. In my day, you’d be considered the perfect size and shape. And don’t they say that men still like a little booty?”
Jane winced. “Nana. Booty? Dear lord. Okay, um, let’s focus on the job. Believe me when I say that what happened at my last job is not going to happen at this job. I’m going to fulfill my responsibilities and spend his money and leave when it’s done without looking back.”
Nana nodded.
“By the way. This boss might be just another shit, but he’s definitely not little.” She made big hand gestures to approximate the span of Nick Dawes’s shoulders.
Nana’s eyes widened, and they both burst into peals of laughter.
Jane spent the day with Nana, made them bacon and eggs for dinner (and pulled a ziplock bag of designer kibble from her purse to give to Rochester), and didn’t get back to the penthouse until the evening.
As soon as he felt her unhook his leash, Rochester padded off to lie in front of the fireplace. The fish tank burbled quietly in a darkness punctuated only by the blue and green lights operating the tank’s equipment—and the tiny red lights of Nick Dawes’s surveillance cameras.
Staring up at the one pointed at the fish tank, Jane flailed her arm around for the wall switch and finally made contact. She hadn’t fully gotten used to all the cameras and wondered why her boss thought he needed so many, particularly when he wasn’t living there. He’d said he was involved with dangerous people, but that didn’t really tell a story. Were the dangerous people the Hudson Kings? Or some other group entirely?
Well, it didn’t matter, did it? He’d warned her and assured her that the dangerous people only cared about him, and then she’d taken the job. And just seeing Nana so comfortable in her home made it all worthwhile.
Jane forced her thoughts from going down the what-if paths regarding Nana’s health, but they somehow ended up going down the what-if paths regarding Mr. Dawes. Hence, the decision on a lark to sleep naked in order to fully enjoy Mr. Dawes’s high-quality linens.
She was in bed with the sheets up to her chin reading a book on her phone app when the call came in. God help her, but her heart thumped something fierce, and she automatically glanced at the camera when she answered.
“Hello, Mr. Dawes, sir. How may I help you?”
“I’m calling to confirm that you don’t have any additional questions.”
From where she was lying in Mr. Dawes’s bed, Jane looked up at the fancy chandelier that looked something like Baccarat had exploded all over a classic mid-century sputnik light. “Any questions?” she repeated.
Do you actually live here when you’re not dodging dangerous people? Do you have feelings? Can you tell from my voice that I’m naked in your bed?
What happens when I run out of mosquito larvae?
“No, sir, I don’t have any questions. Do you?”
There was a long silence. “I forgot to mention when you were over here that I need to stop by. Pick something up.”
Jane blinked. “Oh. I didn’t expect . . . I didn’t think . . . we didn’t really talk about—” I’m buck naked, dude. Although, if you’re going to start coming over, I’ll have to rethink that.
“If it’s an inconvenience, I can come another time,” he said.
“It’s your house, sir. Come on over.” I can make some hors d’oeuvres and stare at your fabulous teeth while you eat. “I can step out of the house, if you prefer.”
“That’s not necessary.” He sounded annoyed.
“You’re paying me a lot,” Jane said.
“Are you doing a good job?” he asked.
“Of course,” Jane said. Now she was annoyed. “Feel free to come see for yourself.”
“I’ll see you in ten minutes,” Nick said. Click.
Jane sighed. Then she tossed the phone aside and hurried to get dressed.