The Objects of Her Affection (28 page)

“I’m Sophie, by the way.”

“I’m Becca.” She wiped a hand on her jeans and offered it to Sophie. “Nice to meet you. I guess we should go—we’re creating a traffic jam.” Annoyed-looking pedestrians were piling up behind the strollers. Becca turned toward Park Avenue.

“We’ll walk with you,” Sophie blurted, wrestling her stroller around to follow Becca. “We’re going this way.” She walked behind Becca’s bobbing curls until they got to Park Avenue, whose sidewalks were wide enough to accommodate the strollers side-by-side. “So how long have you been their nanny?”

“About a year I guess. I started last fall. I was a camp counselor all summer, then I took a break for a few weeks ’cause I was burned out, and then I literally went broke so I started answering nanny ads. This is really just a way to make money while I work on my writing. I’m going to be a writer someday. I mean, I already am one, just nobody knows it.” Sophie nodded and smiled, doing her best to seem politely interested in a noncreepy way as Becca continued rambling from subject to subject. Eventually they pulled up in front of the Gramercy Park mansion, where Becca stood, still talking about her writing, her boyfriend, and her night classes at CUNY, for another fifteen minutes. “Well, anyways,” she finally said, gesturing toward the house, “this is us.”

“You live here?”

“Yeah, he gave me a room on the fifth floor, and there is no elevator, so you’d think I wouldn’t have these thighs, ha-ha.”

Sophie craned her neck to see the fifth floor, then looked back at Becca. “What would you think about having a playdate? It seems like they all get along really well.” She pulled back the sunshade so she could see Elliot and Lucy. They were fast asleep.

“Mmm….” Becca’s lips momentarily disappeared inside her mouth. “I’m not supposed to have anybody over. Their dad is such a control freak about stuff like that. Like, this is literally the only park we’re allowed to go to.” She nodded toward Gramercy Park’s iron fence. “I honestly think he bought the house just for the park key. Doesn’t want them mixing with the riffraff. Not that you’re riffraff, of course, but you know. He’s strict.”

Sophie felt the day’s investments—the train, the singing, the nap-deprived kids—on the verge of evaporation. Her mind rifled through Becca’s previous monologue, searching for something to use. “Do you think I could check out your writing sometime? Do you have a blog?”

“Oh, gosh, no. I would have no idea how to—”

“No blog?” Sophie widened her eyes. “Every self-respecting writer has one. It’s how people get discovered these days. Seriously, you can’t not have a blog.”

“Really?” Becca pulled a strand of her hair straight, then let it spring back. “I guess you’re right. I should get one. Or make one or whatever.”

Sophie leaned on the stroller handle, gazed into the distance. “You know…”

“What?”

“I’m not doing anything this afternoon. I could set it up for you. But I understand if you’re not allowed to have anyone over.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I’m a web developer.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Is their dad home? Maybe the kids can play a little while I set it up, then we’ll be on our way.”

“No, he’s not home…”

“I mean—if this is really what you want to do,” Sophie said. “Be a writer. Because if that’s really your dream, then you have to just do it. You won’t always have this kind of time. This…passion.” Sophie took a deep breath. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Wow.” Becca wound another strand of hair around her finger. “Maybe we can do it on my day off? Are you around this Sunday? We could go to Starbucks or something.”

“Sunday.” Sophie drummed her fingers against her lips. “Oh, you know what, I’m out of town.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure you can set it up yourself,” Sophie said brightly. “Just decide which open-source CMS you like best, like Movable Type, or Blosxom if you’d rather work in Perl. I’m really liking WordPress, now that widgets are included by default in the core code.”

Becca blinked at her.

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Sophie picked her diaper bag off the sidewalk, slinging it over a shoulder.

“I guess I can try.” Becca fiddled with her stroller brake, then cocked her head and gave Sophie a wavering smile. “Oh, who am I kidding?”

Inside the townhouse, Becca showed Sophie a closet under the main staircase where she could put the stroller and pulled out a basket of white cotton slippers. “Can I keep these?” asked Lucy, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, when Becca handed her a tiny pair.

“No,” said Sophie.

“Yes!” laughed Becca. “Come on, let’s have a snack first. The kitchen’s down here.”

Sophie scuffed slowly down the corridor, peering into a series of formal rooms while the kids, energized by the thought of snacks, ran ahead. The house was like an oyster shell: the walls and floors, darkly textured with complicated woodwork, were lined with gleaming white upholstery, rugs, and furniture. The tall windows were shuttered at the bottom with dark wood, while light fell through the upper panes in blinding quantities.

Becca led them through a heavily carved door to the back staircase. They filed down the steps and into the kitchen, which was long and low-ceilinged, with two blocky marble islands in the center of the room, the air sweetly perfumed with sesame oil.

“Danny!” cried Mina and Takashi, running toward a wiry man who stood chopping vegetables at one of the islands.

“Hey, guys,” he said, handing each of them a slice of red bell pepper, which they devoured. Sophie felt a twinge of jealousy. Her kids would never touch a red pepper.

“Hello,” he said with a nod to Sophie.

“We’re here for snacks,” Becca said. Danny thoughtfully pressed his bottom lip upward for a second, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly at Becca, then gave Sophie a swift smile and resumed chopping.

“What?” Becca said. “It’s just for a little while. Everybody come sit.” She slid into a banquette that curved around a large round table at the far end of the room.

They sat, and Danny brought them a tray of colorful, doughy-looking balls. Lucy frowned at the balls, then turned to Mina. “Is he your daddy?”

Mina laughed, popping one of the balls into her mouth. “No, silly. He’s my
Danny
.”

“Danny cooks for us,” said Becca, pushing the tray toward Lucy. “Wagashi?”

Lucy shook her head vigorously. Danny reappeared, this time with a bowl of Goldfish crackers, which Lucy and Elliot began scooping out of the bowl like ravenous bears.

“Danny keeps telling me I’m going to get in trouble,” said Becca, sticking her tongue out at him. “He says I’m careless.”

Danny walked back to the chopping board without responding.

“Nice artwork,” Sophie said, looking around the walls of the eating area, which were covered from floor to ceiling in framed pictures drawn, apparently, by Mina and Takashi.

“Their dad literally frames everything they draw,” said Becca, pushing the tray toward Sophie. “He’s really into art.” Sophie took one of the balls, which was starchy and subtly sweet. She pinched off a piece and tried to interest Elliot in tasting it, but he remained focused on the Goldfish.

After the snack, Becca led them up the dizzying central staircase to the third floor. “We can hang out in here,” she said, breathless from the climb. “Can you believe this playroom?” They entered a ballroom-size space lined with dark wood shelves and cabinets neatly stocked with baskets of toys. The high front windows looked out over the park; under Sophie’s slippered feet a plush, pale green carpet fit perfectly within the wood floor’s inlaid border. While Becca went to get her laptop, Sophie wandered around the room, peeking into cabinets and admiring the toys, which were the expensive European kind—sleek and glossy, cleverly crafted of wood and enameled tin. There was a sumptuously painted Noah’s ark, with dozens of carved animals; an Italianate dollhouse strikingly similar to the house they were in; a bin filled with nothing but windup robots. One set of shelves displayed an impressive collection of vintage toy fire trucks. It was foolish, Sophie decided, to feel jealous of two small children. But the fact that they probably weren’t even aware of their privilege, had never been afforded the opportunity of comparison, somehow made it worse. She combed her fingers along the carved fluting of one of the wooden pillars that edged the cabinetry, wondering if it was original.

“Let’s sit over here,” Becca said when she reappeared with her computer. Sophie joined her on a love seat and went to work setting up a new WordPress account. She showed Becca how to pick a theme, post a new entry, assign tags, and manage comments. “It’s really not that complicated. Just make sure you post a lot, to keep your readers interested. Do you want to learn how to add pictures?” While she led Becca through the process, finding photos on her hard drive, uploading them, and writing captions, Sophie’s mind worked its way toward her next move. Maybe she would ask for a tour, or sneak away during a trip to the bathroom. She needed to get a look at the rest of the house.

Elliot had found a wooden train set and was methodically assembling track, but Lucy, after pawing breathlessly through several toy baskets, had apparently become paralyzed by the number of choices. Now she was pressing herself against Sophie’s knees, staring at her over the screen of the laptop. “I’m bored.”

“You’re bored. In the world’s most fabulous playroom. That’s the most ridiculous…” Sophie trailed off, then set the computer aside. “How about a game of hide-and-seek?”

“I love hide-and-seek!” cried Becca.

“I’ll count,” Sophie said. “Elliot, you can stay with me. Everybody else go hide.”

After counting slowly, to give everyone a chance to run to the furthest corners of the house, Sophie carried Elliot from room to room, whispering, “Do you think they’re in here?” as she peeked inside closets and chests and wardrobes. “What about here?” she said, sliding open a desk drawer in a small study.

“Nooooo Mommy! Too small.”

“Here?” She eased open a filing cabinet.

“Maybe.”

The house was impressively absent of clutter, and most of the walls were bare. In the drawers and cabinets she found neatly organized files and office supplies, but nothing resembling a work of art. She checked the kids’ rooms, the minimally furnished master bedroom, a small gym. She went downstairs and searched quickly through a media room and a sitting room, then pushed through a pair of double doors to find herself in the cavernous shadows of a large library.

Darkly furnished with leather sofas and club chairs, the room was lined with mahogany shelves tightly packed with books. Here and there, glass-fronted cabinets glowed among the bookbindings. Behind the glass, like babies in incubators, shapely objects gleamed under recessed lights: vases, statues, chalices. Sophie’s eyes skittered across the shelves. Bowls, more vases, a jeweled dagger.

Elliot pointed to a corner of the room. Sophie heard giggling, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She walked toward the sound. In the shadows, where the shelves met the wall, a narrow, nearly invisible door was tucked into the woodwork. She ran her hand down its edge, finding a recessed metal plate. With a light push, the door slid behind the bookshelves.

“You found us!” shrieked Lucy, Mina, and Takashi.

“What is this?” Setting Elliot on the floor, Sophie entered a windowless room, about the size of a generous walk-in closet. A low-slung swivel chair occupied the center of the floor. All around, from floor to ceiling, the dove-gray walls were covered, in the same jigsaw manner as the kitchen walls, with paintings. Taking in the mosaic of thinly crackled portraits, lush landscapes, and dark religious scenes, Sophie felt her eyes choking on the overly rich, unexpected feast.

“It’s the hiding place,” Mina said.

The children were clustered in front of a low, utilitarian glass case. Sophie crouched, gently pushing Lucy aside. The glass shelves were lined with objects: a golden stag; a set of enamel boxes; a strikingly familiar silver tazza. In the middle of the top shelf, its glass a winking oval of light, stood the Jamnitzer mirror. Sophie sucked in her breath. She’d forgotten how beautiful it was.

“Found you,” she whispered.

“You guys?” Becca’s voice floated faintly from another part of the house.

Sophie stood up. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be—”

“In here!” shouted Mina and Takashi, jumping up and down. “We’re in the hiding place!”

Becca’s face appeared in the doorway, her youthful features sharpened by worry. “Oh geez, what are you doing in here? Everybody out. Mina, Takashi, you should know better. Oh my God.” She shooed them into the library, where Mina and Takashi started chasing Lucy around the sofas, giggling wildly. Becca waved her hands at them, frantically shushing. Then, somewhere deep in the house, a heavy door thudded shut.

“Daddy!” cried Mina and Takashi, running into the hallway.

Becca wiped her upper lip with a shaking hand. “Okay. Okay. Oh my God. Okay.”

“Becca.” Sophie put a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong? Are you sure that’s him?”

“Nobody else would come in the front door like that. Crap. I’m so dead.”

“It’s fine, we’ll just wait in there.” Sophie pointed toward the hidden room. She used her extra-calm, mother-in-a-crisis voice. “You come tell us when the coast is clear, and we’ll zip out the front door. He’ll never know we were here. I promise.” The voice seemed to be working on Becca. She nodded, put her hand to her forehead, briefly closing her eyes, then hurried after the kids.

Back inside the hidden room, Sophie set Elliot in the chair and gave Lucy a quick squeeze. “Let’s be quiet, okay?” she whispered. “We’re playing hide-and-seek with Mina and Takashi’s daddy now.” Lucy nodded with a sly smile. Sophie went to the door and put her ear against it. She heard Becca’s chattering voice come close and then recede.

Sophie turned; the wall to her left was dominated by a large, dark picture of a ship in a storm. Tiny contorted men clung to the heaving boat. The rabidly foaming waves; the whipping clouds; the torn sail lashing a timid beam of light…the scene was troublingly familiar to her, although she didn’t know why. As she stared at it, she could almost hear the crack of the violently flapping sail as it threatened to knock the sailors into the water’s black depths.