ro

tment, I lounge on the couch for a while, staring at Evans's business card. My fingertips trace the embossed lett

, sigh, and type in the number on the card.

says. It's a short g

ng. In my head, I've been calling him Evans, but there's something very official about the busine

cture his arched eyebrow. H

by my apartment a couple of days

e seems awfully businesslike for a call abou

d be thrilled to

ear a note of relief, and I think back to his desperate attempts

is, I can tell that he's

ontinues, in his cool, removed way. "Once that's settled, I will send

I would be a live-in nanny. I look around my small, cram

ere, I wasn't expectin

red for you," he says,

ity, Mr. Armstrong." Mr. Armstrong seems like the way to

with your earliest availability for the documentation." He pau

inutes, I'm left sitting on my couch,

really h

--------

ngy windows as I stand in the middle of the

all of my clothes, personal effects, and some of my art supplies

ost everything is downstairs already, in the car that Mr. Armstrong sent

hands folded in front of himself. The car itself is a sleek

ection, I slide inside. All-leather upholstery surrounds me, and I think

over to sign the paperwork, he told me that he would be s

ng up in front of the familiar row of brownstones. I smile, remind

rom the trunk. I approach the front door cautiously, expecting to

t the door. Her hair is in a long plait, brown streaked with

Armstrong is busy at the moment, so I'll be

sed and, I'll admit, disappointed. Mr. Armstrong may be intimidating, but it

I spend with him, the les

ch, of course, is beautiful. It fee

twork hanging on the walls, a tasteful mixture of modern and class

and there lie pieces of evidence that a child lives her

main living area. I pass close to the mantelpiece, looking

ing next to the first door on the land

size of my entire apartment. There's a king-sized bed with fluffy white shee

lluminate the entire room, making it seem even more spacious. In

bsent-minded circles. Laura stands by the door, smili

glance back at her. "So

steps to the side as the driver enters t

" I say, stepping toward the door. Laura stop

et settled in." She gestures to the bags.

uddenly unable to remember what I

thing," she says. "Just give me a sh

g himself, but at least I know that his housekeeper-my coworker, I realize wi

't help but blurt out, "Actually

he glances ove

id it out loud, the question sounds almost childish. I can feel heat rising

almost always working, even when he doesn't have

kay. T

s the room. For the first time

to collapse onto the bed. The mattress is as soft as I was hoping, and the

e bed, I push myself upright and go to o

npack. I'm halfway through the first

verything

oosened, his sleeves rolled up past the elbows. I get a glimpse of his perfec

ing myself from reaching up to nervously twine my fingers

me. I wonder if he's remembering the last time we saw each other in person,

, a quiet intensity as we look at each othe

uties tomorrow," he tells me. "

other word, and I'm left kneeling in a pile of