Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“How did Lila do with her last nanny?”
“Lila Gray,” Mrs. Lane corrects.
I swear it’s the twenty-first century and they’re trying to raise debutantes. It wouldn’t surprise me if they told me next that I’ll be supervising weekly playdates with her betrothed.
“My apologies,” I say in a regal tone that comes out a little more sarcastic than it probably should in the middle of a job interview. “Lila Gray.”
“Her last nanny was argumentative. She didn’t want to adhere to the schedule, but Lila Gray doesn’t have any issues working through her studies when she’s sick.” I stare at the woman.
It takes everything I have in me to keep my mouth shut and my jaw off the floor.
“It’s a very regimented program, and I hate to say it, but she’s already a little behind,” Mr. Lane says, his tone serious.
The child is two, and they’ve not only left no room for her to be a kid, but she also can’t even rest when she’s ill? It seems like abuse to me.
“And the twins?”
“Willa Mae and Ruby Kate don’t start their programs until the fall,” Mrs. Lane says, a hint of relief in her voice.
“When they turn one?” I clarify.
She nods, giving me a smile.
These people might possibly be clinically insane. The girls are going to grow up hating them, but I’m scared they’ll end up hating themselves more, because they’re being conditioned to please their parents.
“Is this something you can adhere to?” Mr. Lane asks.
“No,” I tell them immediately.
There’s no sense in lying. I’d only move in, attempt to put a two-year-old on a school schedule only to be fired. I don’t have the energy to even pack for such a short time.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Lane asks as if I’ve offended her.
“You’re not going to find anyone that’s able to do that with such young kids.”
“The Gaels managed it with Ellarae Jade.”
“Then you might want to use the nanny they used,” I tell them as I stand.
“I swear!” Mrs. Lane says, her hand going to her throat as if I’ve just insulted her entire family line.
“I’ll see myself out,” I tell them.
Viola smiles at me as I pass by her in the foyer. “Have a good day.”
“You, too, Viola.”
I wonder how long it will take for the Lanes to call the scheduling service to complain about me.
The curved driveway seems less welcoming than it did an hour ago when I arrived. I wouldn’t have wasted so much time today if they had spoken about the military-grade regimen they expected their girls to follow when I first arrived. They started showing me around the house, no doubt a flex to show off their money.
I’d grill the people wanting to show up for my kids. I’d want to know that they were going to be safe, no matter what the background check from the hiring agency said.
I don’t however see this trip into the city as a waste of time because it was exactly what I needed to realize that Austin is not where I need to be. Lindell has always been home. As much as people are talking about me right now, something else will happen soon and they’ll switch their focus once again.
Everything about Austin is wrong—the wait at the red lights, everyone’s urgency to get where they’re going because they’ve packed too much into their day. They all expect to be catered to and have an attitude problem if their plans are derailed.
It’s all too fast, too impersonal. I don’t recognize a single person’s car as I leave town, but I know I’ll be able to pick Bobby John Prichard’s old Ford out of a lineup just by the sound of the sputtering engine.
I know that on Monday I can go to The Brew and Chew and get the best chicken and dumplings the world has to offer and that Ruth will warn me that the bowl is hot before asking if I want to eat it with biscuits or cornbread.
I know that I’ll have a standing invitation with Adalynn’s family for dinner every weekend night and that her brothers will flirt with me relentlessly even though they know they’d never have a chance.
I know that no matter how long I try to stay away that Lindell will draw me right back to its city limits because Lindell will always be home.
I get out of town as fast as I can despite the rumble in my stomach because I skipped breakfast after the wind blew too hard and the power went out. Maybe my phone not charging making my alarm not go off should’ve been the sign that kept me in town, but I rushed to get ready anyway.
When Henry waved at me, I scurried into my car faster than I normally would, still embarrassed for nearly crying in front of him at his store a few days ago.