A Month at the Shore (58 page)

She got out of the car and slammed the door. It was a simple, mindless act.

But it changed Helen
'
s life forever.

The noise of the car door spooked an owl that apparently had been roosting in the tree. The bird swooped down in front of Helen, then headed directly for her, locking its gaze on hers. Helen froze. Her heart jumped to her throat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Just as suddenly, the owl broke away and bounded off erratically.

It had happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. Helen was left shaking and weak-kneed, as if a mugger had jumped out of nowhere and grabbed her purse. She tightened her grip on her shoulder bag, not altogether convinced that the owl wouldn
'
t be back for it, and hurried up the three steps to the door of the mansion.

Before Helen could lift the heavy brass knocker cast in the shape of a square-rigged ship, the door was swung open for her. An attractive, thirtyish woman stood in the doorway, oblivious to the raw March wind.

"
Ah! You made it!
"
she said to Helen with a warm, vivacious smile.

Helen was caught off guard at
the sight of the slender, auburn
-haired beauty.
"
Mrs. Byrne?
"

I knew it,
she thought.
There
'
s nothing wrong with her.

The woman laughed and shook her head as she stepped aside.
"
No, no, I
'
m just the nanny. Peaches Bartholemew. Come in. Mrs. Byrne is dressing to come down. In the meantime, come and meet Katherine. She
'
s been so excited all day.
"

So. Wrong on two counts. Well, one of them was an honest mistake. Peaches Bartholemew looked and acted like the mistress of a mansion. She was beautifully dressed in a calf-length skirt of fine-spun wool and a sweater that had a lot more cashmere in it than poor Becky
'
s. The apricot color highlighted the delicate flush of her Meryl Streep cheekbones; it was easy to see how she
'
d got the name Peaches.

A poor and distant relation
was Helen
'
s first, old- fashioned thought as the two women made their way down the soaring hall, lit by a wonderful chandelier, to one of the reception rooms. Helen stole a glance at the nanny in profile and realized how striking her beauty was: straight nose, high cheekbones, delicate brows and lashes, makeup artfully applied. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a French braid, more elegant, somehow, than the cleverest cut.

Helen responded to the woman
'
s pleasantry about spring being just around the corner, but she was thinking,
I wonder if I would
'
ve had the confidence to hire a nanny this pretty.

They entered a room of lofty proportions which clearly served as a music room. A grand piano was strategically placed beside full-length windows that opened to a view of the garden; a deep, well-thumbed assortment of sheet music was scattered across the top of an obviously valuable Federal sideboard with a serpentine table-edge.

"
Katie, come see who
'
s here,
"
Peaches called gaily. She had a beautiful voice, rich and musical. No doubt she accompanied the pianist in the family, whoever that was.

"
Katherine?
"
Peaches said again in apparent confusion.
It was obvious that a game was being played.
"
For goodness
'
sakes
...
I thought she was in here.
"

Suddenly a brown-haired moppet in
Oshkosh
overalls popped out from behind a Queen Anne armchair and shouted,
"
Boo!
"

The child broke into a fit of giggles as Peaches reached down and wrapped her arms around he
r, half-tickling, half-
turning her to face Helen.
"
Do you know who this is?
"
said Peaches to the child.

Without looking up, Katie giggled again and said,
"
Yes. Mrs. Evett. She teaches preschool,
"
the child added, in case there was any doubt.

Helen crouched to the little girl
'
s level and said,
"
Hi, Katie. I
'
m glad to meet you. Your mommy said that you
'
re a very smart little girl.
"

Katie fixed her bright blue eyes on Helen
'
s gray ones.
"
I know my ABCs, and I can count to twenty,
"
she said. This she proceeded to do on the spot, except for seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen.

When she was done, Peaches tucked one of her curls back and said,
"
We
'
ve been practicing a lot, haven
'
t we, honey?
"

"
Uh-huh. And I know how to draw. Want me to show you?
"

Helen said yes and Katie ran to the other end of the room where she
'
d been coloring at a low table, then fell to her knees and began sorting through her pile in search of her best pieces.

"
She
'
s determined to make a good impression on you,
"
Peaches whispered to Helen.
"
I
'
m not sure what Linda told her, but Katie seems to think she may not get into the class.
"

"Oh ...
no, I wouldn
'
t say that,
"
Helen said vaguely. It was awkward to be put on the spot that way, which is why Helen preferred to do the interviews at school.

The reference to
"
Linda
"
rather than to
"
Mrs. Byrne
"
did not escape Helen. Over the years she
'
d met hundreds of nannies picking up their charges at the end of the day. Very few of them referred to their employers by their first names. Maybe Peaches was a relation after all.

To fill the void while they waited for the child to make up her mind, Helen said softly,
"
Does Katie have many friends to play with?
"

Peaches pursed her lips thoughtfully, cocked her head in the little girl
'
s direction, and sighed.
"
I wish I could say yes. But all the children in the neighborhood are in preschools, getting ready for Harvard and Yale. Linda was determined to hold out, but the pressure got to be too much.

"
Oh, good, Katie,
"
said Peaches to the girl as she came skipping back with a crayon-drawing in her hand,
"
that was
my
favorite, too.
"

Without a word the child handed the sheet to Helen, apparently preferring to let her work speak for itself.

Helen didn
'
t have a clue what the brown and red scribbles were supposed to be. Nonetheless, she was impressed with the little girl
'
s command of shapes.
"
Oh my,
"
she said enthusiastically.
"
You must come sit next to me and tell me everything that
'
s in it.
"

Helen took the girl by the hand and led her to a small camelback sofa opposite the piano, glancing at the entrance to the room as they passed it.

The nanny took the hint.
"
I
'
m sorry for the delay,
"
she said at once.
"
I
'
ll just go see—
"

She never got to finish the sentence. A man
'
s voice— loud and urgent and somehow ghastly—cried out from a floor above them,
"
Peaches! For God
'
s sake, up here!
"

Chapter 2

The
nanny threw down the words
"
Excuse me
"
like a discarded tissue and rushed from the music room, leaving Helen alone with the child.

Whatever had happened wasn
'
t good, but Helen knew better than to let a child see that she was upset. In her calmest, friendliest voice she said,
"
Now. I was wondering what
...
hmmm
...
this is,
"
she said, pointing to one of several brown cigars. She was surprised to see that her hand was shaking as she did it.

Katherine, unhooking her forefinger from her lower lip, gestured in a squiggly circle that took in all the cigars at once and said,
"
That
'
s Daddy
'
s plane. And this is his other plane,
"
she said, pointing to a blue scribble in one corner.
"
Only I coulddent fit it.
"

"
And this?
"

"
This is fog. Daddy doesn
'
t like fog because he can
'
t fly his plane. But I like it,
"
she added in a hushed voice.
"
Because, well, I like it.
"
It seemed reason enough.

"
And this?
"

The child
'
s blue eyes crinkled above a smile.
"
That
'
s Polly Panda,
"
she said, slapping the heels of her hands on the edge of the sofa cushion.
"
Daddy bringed Polly Panda on the plane. She sat in a seat. Mommy was mad.
"

Helen decided not to follow up on that one, so she asked Katie to show her some more of her work.

It was a hard slog. Katie, true to the artist
'
s temperament, had no desire to explain every last smudge, especially in the more abstract pieces. She began to fidget and demanded to know where Peaches was.

Good question,
thought Helen. Really, it was shaping up to be an extraordinary interview, with one odd surprise after another. From the owl to the real Peaches to the elusive Linda Byrne, Helen had been kept continuously off balance. She didn
'
t like it at all.

She
'
d managed to get Katie working on another creation—though it was clear that the muse had flown—when Peaches suddenly reappeared.

The woman
'
s face was as white as a new porcelain sink. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose still runny; clearly she
'
d been crying. She forced a pale echo of her earlier smile and said,
"
I really am sorry
...
but something
'
s come up. I
'
m afraid we
'
ll have to end the interview here. I
'
m—
"

She looked around the room blankly.
"
Did you bring a coat?
"
she asked in a dazed voice.

It was Helen
'
s turn to sound blank.
"
I left it in my car,
"
she said automatically
.

"
Oh
...
of course. Well.
I—someone will be in touch, then. Thank you so much for coming.
"

And that was it. Helen was given the bum
'
s rush out the door.

She stood beside her car, keys in hand, staring at the imposing brick house with its shuttered air of disdain, and thought,
What the
hell
was going on in there?

A car or two passed on the street. Bankers and lawyers were coming home to their suppers. Helen roused herself and stuck the key in the lock of her door, all too aware that her kids would be clamoring for their own meal. A light snow was beginning to fall. More snow, more March, more waiting.

Somehow the int
erview seemed to fit right in.