A Christmas to Remember (2 page)

Before she could even ring the bell, she could make out a shadow behind the curtain and she heard footsteps getting closer. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. This should be
familiar
enough by now that she should feel at ease. That’s what her book had said in chapter two. But Carrie didn’t feel at ease. Her mouth had gone dry and her hands were trembling in her striped gloves. Even her knees felt a little wobbly. At least she could blame it all on the cold. Why did she always get so nervous? Perhaps there was something else wrong… She tried to pinpoint the flaw in her personality that would put her in the state she was in just as the door opened. Carrie caught herself blinking over and over to steady herself as she stood in front of Adam Fletcher.

He was gorgeous. Shopping at the supermarket, taking packages to the post office, walking the children through the park—in all these instances, she would have stopped dead in her tracks if someone who looked like him walked by. But then, people who look like Adam Fletcher must not shop or mail packages, she thought. His dark blond hair looked as though he’d just run his fingers through it, and he was wearing a thick sweater with a collar, jeans, and loafers, a watch the size of Texas that looked more expensive than any she’d ever seen in real life peeking out from under his sleeve. His face was clean-shaven, his lips pressed into a pleasant expression, and his eyes, as blue as ocean waves, were looking straight at her…Waiting for her to say something? Was she supposed to speak first?

“Hello,” he said, before she could get her thoughts straight. He reached out for a handshake. “Adam. Adam Fletcher. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” she said clasping his hand. She could feel the warmth through her glove. She’d never read up on how to handle a handsome boss before. As she was mentally adding it to her list of books to find, she realized that she hadn’t said anything more than “hi,” so she quickly added “I’m Carrie Blake. It’s nice to meet you.”
He just said “Nice to meet you.” Ugh!
she thought. She squared her shoulders, smiled, and nodded like her book had said.

T
o ease anxiety
, it’s often helpful to find healthy distractions
. Somehow, she didn’t think that Adam Fletcher was the kind of distraction her book had in mind. In the past, Carrie had usually dealt with mothers. They’d all fit a general description: working mother, trying to meet the demands of business while also raising children, pulling long hours. She’d never had a man contact her before Adam, let alone a nice-looking man. She was used to walking around in her pajamas in the mornings and getting herself breakfast before she’d even gotten ready for the day. What if he didn’t like her hairspray in the bathroom or her makeup on the counter? These were all things that another woman would understand because she lived it, too. What would it be like sharing a house with a man? He’d said on the phone that he was a single dad, but it hadn’t sunk in until now.
Unfamiliar, unfamiliar, unfamiliar
—there was nothing usual about this situation, and she hadn’t read far enough in her
Managing Anxiety
book to know what to do next. Surely there was a chapter on how to handle oneself in unfamiliar situations. Usually it only took a few days for her to feel confident and comfortable, but she had a feeling that this may take her a bit of getting used to.

Adam ushered her inside, shutting the door behind her, and Carrie took in the entryway. The floor was some sort of marble tile that stretched up the curving staircase. She followed the dark wood banister with her eyes all the way to the balcony, where she reached an enormous chandelier, two stories up. It was an explosion of wrought iron in the shape of leaves and branches that stretched up to teardrop-shaped light bulbs, their light most likely on a dimmer switch because they were almost flickering. A dark wood entryway table sat against the side of the staircase, and on it was an iron lamp that sent a buttery yellow light around the room. Beside the lamp, she saw a heavy, silver frame, containing a photo of two babies with wispy hair and milky skin, both dressed in white linen outfits. One was a bibbed overall and the other was a little dress with white smocking across the front.

“Ah,” he said, causing her to shift her gaze over to him. When she did, the nerves came back like a flood. “Those are the twins, David and Olivia. They’re older now—four—as I mentioned when we spoke on the phone.”

She had to piece his words together to make meaning of them because she’d never been in the presence of someone so well put-together, so confident. She looked back at the picture. Looking at their little faces, the dimple on the boy’s right cheek, the blue of the girl’s eyes behind her long eyelashes, it melted her nerves away. As she took in the photos, it occurred to her that there weren’t any Christmas decorations in the house, and she wondered if they didn’t celebrate.

Carrie couldn’t imagine not celebrating Christmas with kids—it was her favorite holiday. Nothing compared to their faces lighting up with the magic of the season. Seeing them under the lights of the Christmas tree, reading stories in their pajamas, and leaving cookies on a plate with a cup of milk for Santa Claus, watching them unwrap presents in a wild, ripping frenzy, as if they couldn’t get to the inside fast enough. She loved the Christmases she could spend with children, and she always felt a little cheated when she was given time off.

She’d had to spend a Christmas alone in her apartment before, and without any kids around, she found it to be so lonely. She’d woken on Christmas morning, her little tree looking the same as it had the night before—no surprises or plates with leftover cookie crumbs from Santa. Nothing. Just the hum of the heater and the quiet of being alone. Suddenly, Carrie wanted to see the Fletcher kids right away; she could hardly wait to meet them.

“The kids are in the playroom. Would you like to meet them?” Adam said as if reading her mind. “Then we can chat about the specifics of the position.” He opened a door in the hallway and pulled out a wooden hanger that matched all the others in the closet. “May I take your coat?”

Carrie shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. She unwrapped her scarf and pulled off her gloves. With every layer, she felt more exposed. She caught herself wondering if her outfit was up to par. Did she have scuffs on her shoes? They were surely wet and discolored from the snow outside. What must her hair look like covered in melting snow? Nervously, she tucked it behind her ear. Why was she so worried about appearances? Usually, she was covered in spit up, cloth diapers draped on her shoulders, sock feet. She’d never worried about how she looked before. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew why she suddenly cared. Because, for some unknown reason, she wanted to look nice in front of Adam. A wave of guilt washed over her. This feeling was something she’d never experienced before, and the unprofessionalism of it made her feel awful. She reminded herself why she was there: the children. They were her number one priority, and if she wanted to do the job right, she’d better stop thinking so much about what she looked like and more about how she was going to care for them.

The problem was, she wasn’t used to being around a man at all. She didn’t ever go out, and every time she thought about it, it made her feel like she hadn’t been as good as her friends at making decisions in life, so she’d stopped trying, feeling hopeless. She’d found a great book called
Getting Back to Basics: Life Outside of Work
, but she hadn’t had a chance to try any of the suggestions. One suggestion was to join some sort of club and plan one night a week to devote to it. The problem was that every time she tried, one of the kids needed her, and she felt guilty leaving them, so she’d stayed with them. In the end, Carrie would rather be with them than at a book group. Was there something wrong with her?

“The playroom is this way,” he pointed down the hallway.

Adam’s demeanor dripped with confidence. He had a way about him that seemed strong and self-assured—she didn’t know if it was his walk or the way he held his shoulders, but she could sense it just by looking at him. Carrie fiddled with her fingers, feeling small in comparison.

“It’s Natalie’s last day with us. She’s found a full-time position,” he said, smiling cordially in her direction. “You’ll be taking over tomorrow.” He looked down at her, causing her heart to pound. She’d have to get herself together if she planned to work at the Fletchers’ for any length of time. She couldn’t go into some sort of nervous fit every time Adam was in the vicinity. She definitely had to get a life. She should be able to stand confidently next to a handsome man and not lose her mind.

They arrived at the door, and he turned the handle to let them in. Carrie had to stifle a gasp as she peered inside the room. It looked like something out of a storybook. Every toy was neatly displayed on dark wood library shelves that stretched the height of the ceiling, a rolling ladder poised on a track that circled the room. There were rocking horses that resembled carousel horses, enormous foam blocks in one corner, an art table bigger than her car. A young woman sat on the floor beside the kids as she delicately balanced a block on the top of a tower of multicolored blocks. Her dark, shiny hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail at the back of her neck, every strand of hair in place. She wore a light blue, fitted sweater, with a pressed, white collar and cuffs peeking out from under it. A strand of pearls hung delicately at her neck. Her face was smooth, and she had a gentle but controlled expression.
That must be Natalie
, Carrie thought.

Next to her, a little boy was dressed in a tiny pair of jeans, with socks that matched the red of his sweater. His hair was dark blond like his daddy’s, and curled around his ears. He had big gray eyes and a round face. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he steadied a wobbling block. He tried to keep it from falling, and by accident knocked it off. Carrie could see the tension in his shoulders as he blew air out of his thin pink lips. He picked the block up off the floor and studied the tower to find a better spot. Carrie noticed the tight grip he had around the block, the way his toes moved inside his socks as he focused on the tower, and she thought that the little boy was carrying a lot of worry. She understood about worry—she worried so much about how she could fix her own life that she’d stopped thinking about actually living it.

The little girl walked over to Carrie, grabbed her hands and smiled, revealing a row of white, perfectly shaped teeth. Then, as quickly as she’d come over, she went back to the tower. Her hair was slightly lighter than her brother’s, the golden strands bringing out the blue of her eyes. She had a heart-shaped face and a little pout that twitched as she balanced her block. When Natalie had positioned another block and moved her fingers, the children clapped politely. When the blocks were all placed on their tower, the little girl turned to Carrie. “Hello,” she said in a high-pitched voice, as she played with the hem of her dress, showing her tights underneath. “I’m Olivia.”

“Hi,” Carrie said to her, unable to control her smile. Olivia’s hair had been pulled into a ponytail, tufts of curls escaping it, sending little flyaways toward her face. She pushed them out of her eyes with the palms of her hands, her little nails painted a sparkly pink. Olivia’s dress was navy blue with an embroidery pattern at the top like the one in the picture downstairs, but this pattern was the same light blue as her tights. Her navy shoes had petite silver buckles that shined as her feet pattered along the rug.

The woman next to the children looked up too and smiled. “Hello,” she said. “You must be Carrie.” She stood to greet her.

“I’ll leave you now,” Adam said, stepping back through the doorway. “Natalie, if you don’t mind, just lead Carrie to my office when you’re done showing her around the playroom.” As he walked out, Carrie wished he would stay. It was such a surprising feeling to have, but even though he made her incredibly nervous, there was something about him that was intriguing. She liked him. He had a quality about him that made her want to know more. With his quiet nature, he came off a little mysterious.

The children were now silently watching, clearly wondering what was going on. Just before Adam left, Carrie saw him smile at his children, but they didn’t run to him. They hadn’t lit up when they’d seen him, and there was something distant about their encounter. In fact, they stood quietly, their faces still and calm, their hands unmoving, their tiny feet planted in that spot. It rattled her. She’d never seen that behavior before in any of her other clients’ homes. She’d never witnessed children who were so reserved, so careful about how they interacted with their own parent. While he was direct and no-nonsense, Adam didn’t seem scary or worrying at all, so it was strange to her that the children would act that way toward him.

He shut the door, and the children continued to watch her, as Carrie sat down cross-legged on the giant burgundy and spruce-colored rug. “What are you playing?” she asked the kids. The children looked at Natalie, so Carrie, too, looked her way and asked, “What were you all playing?”

“Blocks,” Natalie smiled.

“What’s the game?”

“Oh, there wasn’t a game. We were just building.”

Carrie looked at the lone towers of single blocks in the center of the rug, all the other toys tucked away in their places. It was clear that Natalie’s style of childrearing was different than hers. Natalie had a quieter way about her, a rigidity that was clear just by watching the way she interacted with the children. She seemed pleasant and caring, but by the look of the tower and the toys surrounding them, she wasn’t the type to get down on her hands and knees and ride them around on her back or toss them into the air just to make them laugh. It worried Carrie. She wondered if her style of childcare would fit in this house. Natalie’s approach wasn’t bad, just different. Not wanting to compete or show any disagreement with the way Natalie dealt with the kids, Carrie noticed there were more blocks in the bucket, so she reached in and pulled one out.

“Where should I put it?” she asked the little boy, David. What she wanted to do was pull out the bin of cars, build a parking garage, perhaps make a drive-in theater, and act out a story. Or she could see if the kids could build towers as tall as themselves and then pretend to be monsters and knock them down. She had all kinds of ideas, but she had to tread lightly. This wasn’t her job yet. She turned to David, who was clearly shy in her presence, and handed him the block. “Why don’t you do it for me? Do you think you can balance it?”

He seemed unsure. Olivia leaned over to him, still pushing hair off her forehead, her fingernails glittering in the lamplight, and whispered, “Put it there, David,” pointing to an open spot next to the tallest tower. He took a quick look in Carrie’s direction and then placed the block where his sister had said to put it.

“It’s nearly dinner time,” Natalie said. “Can we start to clean up?”

Carrie looked at the tiny pile of blocks. It was certainly different than the clean-up times she’d had with children. David picked up the bucket and started dropping blocks into it. Olivia was spinning circles and watching her dress puff out like the sail of a ship.

“Olivia, can you help David, please?” Natalie said.

Olivia continued to spin, seemingly too engrossed in her spinning to hear Natalie.

“I’ll count to three, and then it’s a time-out,” she said gently but firmly.

Carrie, not wanting to step on Natalie’s toes but feeling there may be a better way, said, “Do you mind if I try, just to get a feel for the children?”

“Not at all.”

“Olivia!” Carrie said in a dramatic whisper. “Olivia!” she called again.

The girl stopped spinning and looked at Carrie. “I’m dizzy!” she giggled, which made Carrie smile. She wobbled over to Carrie and cocked her head to the side, her ponytail dropping onto her shoulder. Carrie noticed her light, delicate eyelashes as she blinked her eyes, presumably to clear the dizziness from her vision.

“Olivia. I have my eye on one block, and if you find the one I’m looking for, I have something special for you, but it won’t count unless you’ve put it in the bucket. Do you want to play my game?”