In the end, I just disappointed her again.
After a shower and a shave, I comb my hair into submission, noting that I need a haircut in the worst way. Then I put on a crisp white shirt and a fresh suit from my closet. Dry cleaning delivery service is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Daddy!”
Okay, third best thing. I have two little monsters that rank slightly higher in my life. I pick up Wyatt and blow raspberries on his neck until we reach the kitchen, where I get him cereal. He picks up the bowl right after I pour the milk and sloshes half the contents across the countertop, just like yesterday.
Right on schedule, Callie cries out from her crib, and I go retrieve her before it turns into screaming.
I keep forgetting that dressing for the day should come after getting the kids ready. It’s a miracle when we leave the house and I don’t have anything down the front of me. We’re even five minutes ahead of schedule. Traffic from Scottsdale to Tempe is a beast, depending on what’s under construction at any given moment.
My best friend’s wife opens her front door when she sees me pull up, and just like yesterday, she has to peel Callie off of me, promising her bubbles, story time, and three episodes ofBluey. Callie’s one-year-old baby hair is sticking up all over with a fuzz knot in the back. I know when I get back this afternoon, Marisol will have done something cute with it I could never dream of.
“I think you’re going to hire your forever nanny today,” she tells me, smiling despite Callie’s wide-eyed stare back at her. “Rosalie is the one. I’m so glad you agreed to meet her.”
“Are you saying that because this is day eight, and Callie is still going to scream when I leave? I see Paxton has his ear protection on already.” Her son Paxton is behind her, turning in circles with his hands over his noise-canceling headphones. He’s not a fan of noises or crowds, and his house has become Grand Central Station.
Marisol smiles. “I’m not manifesting. My friend is perfect for this, and if you don’t snag her up, she’ll sign another contract with the school and there won’t be anything you or I can do about it.”
“Why isn’t she wanting to teach this year?”
“Well, for one thing, you pay better and she needs the money, but also, the school politics are horrible. I’m only a PTO member, and there are people from the school I avoid when I see them at the grocery store, if you know what I mean.”
I don’t know what she means, but our time is up, because Marisol’s wild two-year-old is trying to squeeze past her and make a run for it.
I give Wyatt a hug, and he waves goodbye to me right before the door closes. My daughter screams like I’ve left her in a den of vampires, and I sigh and run back to my car. The best way I can help us all is to go meet this person I’ve been told is totally trustworthy and in desperate need of an influx of cash.
In my experience, those two things don’t go hand in hand. Thank goodness I lined up two interviews after her.
I agreed to meet Rosalie Barnes at a coffee shop just outside my office, and I’m pleased to see her waiting inside for me when I walk in, standing next to a table she’s guarding for us. It’s seat-yourself. Marisol sent me her picture, so I know it’s her. The place is hopping with the sounds of clinking silverware and conversation.
Rosalie must not be photogenic, because in person, she’s a lot prettier than I want her to be. The combination of her blonde hair, light hazel eyes, and full lips has me frowning at her before I remember I’m not trying to scare this one off. Thankfully, she’s dressed like my neighbor Mrs. Lobronski, all shapeless and flowery and out-of-date. Her blouse puffs out before tighteningat her wrists and waist, and it’s paired with high-waisted jeans and a skinny belt that’s seen better days. My mother would hate this outfit. Another plus.
I set those thoughts aside because what she wears or looks like is not relevant. I just need her to be good with kids.
“Are you Rosalie?”
She smiles and holds out her hand to shake mine. “That’s me. You must be Liam. Thanks for this opportunity.”
Her handshake is warm and firm, and her eyes hold zero flirtation, just a lot of nervous determination.
I sit down across from her and give us a minute to look at the paper menu before starting down the list of all the things I want to know about her. We start with questions about her teaching history and education. Then we move on to toddler behavior and her experiences there. Her niece is eleven months old, so she’s familiar with taking care of babies.
We might finish this interview before a waiter ever reaches us. I should have picked a better location, although Rosalie doesn’t seem to mind. We’ve mutually leaned in to hear each other better.
I’m just starting to relax and stop worrying about my list when she says, “Just, full disclosure, I have a boyfriend, but I wouldn’t bring him around without permission.”
I frown. “Why? Is he a bad guy?”
She laughs. “No. Not at all. I just want you to understand that boundaries matter to me. If you hire me, you hirejustme. I’d treat this position with the respect it deserves.”
I’m half impressed, half suspicious, because my boundaries mean everything to me, and I wonder if she knows that somehow. Maybe Marisol told her what I’m like.
I almost ask, but right then a waitress rushes down our aisle, trips on a chair leg, and drops an entire iced coffee down Rosalie’s back. All my worries suddenly feel trivial, because Rosalie’s reaction tells me everything I need to know. After an initial gasp of cold shock, she laughs self-consciously and turns to check on the flustered waitress.
If she can handle a disaster like this with grace, she’s more than welcome at my house. We have disasters every day.
Chapter 3 – I’m Team Whatever You Want