NICOLE

Mr. Cline pulled me aside and told me about the changes at Nilsson Tower.  Vidar was now the guardian of his niece Chloe, so she would be living upstairs with him.  Two full-time nannies and a cook had been given apartments on the floor below him.

“What about me?” I asked.  “Does he want to hire a different housekeeper?”

“No.  He said he wants to keep you.”

“Good.  Thanks.”  As odd as it might sound, I had missed him the past two months.  I still came every day to his penthouse apartment to clean because that’s what he wanted, but I didn’t have to work long hours.  There wasn’t much to clean – other than dust – when no one lived there.

With the new occupants, the protocol for cleaning had also changed.  After I scanned my thumbprint, I could either be cleared to enter because no one was present, or because someone inside granted permission.  This could be the new cook, Mrs. Perez, or one of the two nannies.  Apparently one nanny, Brooke, would take care of baby Chloe from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. and the other nanny, Jessica would take care of her from 2 p.m. to 9 p.m. six days a week.

It looked like Vidar had the baby situation covered, but I wondered how he would deal with so many people in his space.

He was a private man and didn’t like company.

Brooke was the one to let me in.  She was holding Chloe in her arms, rocking her gently.  “Oh hi,” she said cheerfully.  “I’m Brooke.  What’s your name?”

“Nicole.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushed.  “Some employers expect the Nanny to clean everything, and I was thrilled to learn that you would be coming.  Not that I won’t try to keep things tidy, I will, but I’d really rather not have to clean the bathrooms, if you know what I mean.  No offense.”

None taken.  How could I take offense from such a friendly motherly woman?  Brooke was younger than I was, probably twenty or twenty-one, softly plump and pretty with a round face and curly hair styled up on top of her head, looking like a fountain.  Her curls bounced when she talked, and I assumed a baby would like that.

“Don’t worry,” I said dryly.  “I’m perfectly happy cleaning bathrooms.”

“Do you come every day?” she asked as she followed me into the kitchen.

“Every day except Sunday.”

“I have Sunday off as well,” she said and giggled. “I don’t know how Mr. Nilsson will handle that.”

“Maybe he’ll hire a weekend Nanny.”

Brooke nodded.  “Probably.”

I asked, “Is he here right now?”

“No, he left the minute I arrived.  He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.  Poor guy.”

Naturally I was sympathetic to his plight, but I wouldn’t call him a poor guy.  He was a very rich guy who could hire half a dozen people to help him take care of one baby.

I said, “So, this is Chloe?”

Brooke adjusted her so I could see her face more clearly.  “Yep, she is the Billion Dollar Baby, although we’re not supposed to call her that.  Isn’t she cute?”

Most babies were cute, but Chloe was darling.  She had reddish brown fuzz on top of her head and her ears stuck out a little, but her eyes were a deep, dark blue.  She looked at me solemnly as if she knew the secrets of the universe.

“She’s adorable,” I said.  Unlike some of my single girlfriends, I wasn’t baby hungry.  I could admire a beautiful baby without wanting one of my own.

Brooke bounced her up and down.  “She’s a little fussy today because she’s teething.  Her lower incisors are coming in.”  She opened Chloe’s mouth to show me two raised bumps on her lower gumline.  “See?”

I grimaced.  “Sounds painful.”

“It is, but Chloe’s a brave little girl, isn’t she?” Brook said and spoke directly to the baby.  “Yes, ma’am, you are,” she crooned.  “You’re a brave little girl.”

I could see that if I weren’t careful, my cleaning times could easily become play-with-Chloe times, so I said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Brooke, and Baby Chloe, but I’ve got to get to work.”

“Fine, and we’ll try to stay out of your way,” Brooke promised.

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER, ON Sunday, I got an emergency call from Mr. Cline.  “Can you come and clean Mr. Nilsson’s apartment?”

“Right now?” I asked.  I enjoyed my days off and I didn’t want to move, let alone figure out the bus schedule.

“He’ll pay overtime.  Double time.  Whatever you want.”

“What happened?”

“He said something about an exploding diaper?”

I laughed.  “All right.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  I took an Uber and was keying in my code at Nilsson Tower forty minutes later.

“What took you so long?” Vidar demanded as I opened the door.

“How’s Chloe?” I asked.

“She’s fine.  Taking a nap.  Finally.”

He looked like he was at his wit’s end.  His crisply ironed blue oxford cloth shirt was stained and half untucked from his pants.  His hair was standing on end.  There was a smudge of something orange on his forehead.

He was picture perfect for a befuddled uncle left with a new baby for the first time.

I glanced around the kitchen, which looked like a bomb had gone off.  There was an assortment of bottles, spoons, baby food jars and bowls on the table and the counters.

On the counter, there was a Vitamix with some brown colored sludge at the bottom of the glass blender container.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Sweet potatoes and avocado.  She didn’t like the bottled food.”

“Maybe she wasn’t hungry,” I said.  “You know, not all six-month-old babies eat solid foods.”

He said, “My mother says I did.”

I smiled.  I found it endearing that he was asking his mother for advice.  I said dryly, “Maybe you were very advanced.”  I motioned to the kitchen.  “Before I start cleaning up here, I want to take a tour of the apartment to see the entire picture.”

“Go ahead.”

I walked into the nursery and saw that Chloe was sleeping peacefully in the crib.  She lay on her stomach with her rump up in the air, covered with a blanket.  There were clothes on the floor – some of them coated in runny baby poop.  Fortunately, the floor was hardwood instead of carpet, so it would be easier to clean.

“Wow,” I said quietly.  “Mr. Cline wasn’t exaggerating when he said you had an exploding diaper.”

Vidar said, “She ruined a shirt of mine as well.  It’s in the laundry in the master bath.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I’ll take care of it.”  I did not normally do Vidar’s laundry, it was all bagged up and professionally laundered, but there was a washer and dryer in the apartment for incidentals.

Vidar said, “Do you think she’s sick?  I’ve been reading online and it seems that loose bowels can be normal?”

I gathered up the dirty clothes and pointed to the bedroom door, so we could leave quietly.  Once we were outside the room, I smiled and said, “Unfortunately, yes, it is normal.”

He followed me to the laundry room.  “But how can it be normal for babies to have diarrhea?”

I shrugged.  “It just happens.  And sometimes, when babies eat a new food, like that sweet potatoes and avocado concoction, their immature digestive systems react violently.”

“Well, it took me by surprise.  She was crying.  I had to change clothes, so I just put her in the crib, while I took care of myself, and then I wiped her down and got another diaper on her.”

“Did you give her a bath?”

He blanched.  “I didn’t think of that.  I just wiped her off with the diaper wipes.  I’m getting better with changing diapers, but I’ve never given her a bath.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn,” I said.  “And she seems fine.”  I wasn’t too worried.  Brooke would be there in the morning and give Chloe a bath.  Vidar watched as I rinsed the stained clothes and then left them to soak in an enzyme cleaner in a dishpan.  I loaded the washing machine with Chloe’s other clothes and started a wash.

He said, “I appreciate your coming on short notice.”

“No problem,” I said.

“But I would like you to be closer next time.  Would you like to have an apartment in Nilsson Tower?”

“Like your nannies?”

“And the cook, yes.”

I said, “I think that’s unnecessary.”

“I disagree.  I’ll sleep much better knowing that you are available.”

“Twenty-four seven?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed.  “Well, almost.”

I said, “I have a lease.  I can’t just move here.”

“Cancel the lease.  I’ll pay whatever penalties there are.”

He was so rich that paying my cancellation fees would be like my giving a dollar to one of the beggars holding cardboard signs on Garland Road.  I sighed.

He followed me to the kitchen where I started washing the dishes.  He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Do you think you can just throw money at a problem until it goes away?”

“That’s been my experience, yes.”

I couldn’t blame him.  I said finally, “I wouldn’t mind moving, but it might make going to school more complicated.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“UTD.”

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology.”

He frowned.  “I don’t see what the problem is, if you live near your work rather than living near the school.”

“Bus routes,” I said succinctly.  “Sometimes I’m at college late at night, and the bus routes might not work.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“No.”  I had one at one time, but life’s trials could be messy, and I’d lost it.

He said, “Do you want a car?  I assume you have a driver’s license.”

I blinked in astonishment.  He was beginning to sound like Santa Claus.  “Are you saying you are willing to buy me a car?”

“Why not?  If it makes your life – and therefore mine – easier.”

I said, “I think it would be a lot cheaper to just hire someone else to clean in an emergency.”

“It might be cheaper, but I don’t have anyone else readily available that I trust.”

I looked at him sharply.  He was serious.  “And how do you know that I’m so trustworthy?”

He said, “Well, for one - you didn’t poison me with your soup.”

I smiled.  He really was a darling man and I wanted to help him.  I said, “Okay, even though I think you’re being a little extreme here, I can move into Nilsson Tower if you want.”