Hungry for More (2012) (2 page)

“Of course.”

She waited by the door, holding Tad’s hand. She had just leaned over to kiss him when the doorbell finally rang.

“Nanny will
always
love you,” she said. She dropped down to her knees, terrified now that the moment of parting had finally come. “You will always be my little boy in my heart.”

Tad threw his arms around her neck, and they held one another tightly until the doorbell rang again.

Struggling to compose herself, Bridget threw the door open. She frowned in puzzlement. She had only met Paul once, long ago, but the man standing before her wasn’t anything like what she remembered. A pudgy, balding man in a ragged navy blazer and black trousers tipped his hat and stepped inside.

“Uhm…Mr. Devoe?”

The man laughed and shook his head, “Hardly!” he said with a strong Brooklyn twang. “I’m Bob, the driver. Mr. Devoe sent me around to get the kid and bring him back to the apartment.”

“Mr. Devoe
sent
you?” Bridget asked, horrified by the suspicion that was just beginning to form in the back of her mind. “He isn’t here?”

“He had to go in early or something,” the man said with a shrug. “Don’t ask me- I’m just the hired help!” He laughed as though it was funny, and then he started gathering up the bags and boxes.

Bridget didn’t let the conversation drop. “He had to go in early? Does that mean that he isn’t coming back tonight? Why didn’t the new nanny come with you?”

“I don’t know anything about a new nanny,” the man answered. “Devoe just told me to pick the little guy up. He has a DVD for him to watch back at the house and money for pizza if he wants it. Oh, kid. I’m supposed to tell you that your bedtime is ten o’clock.”

“You’re meant to tell him
what
?” Bridget said, aghast.

“His bedtime is-”

“There’s not going to be anyone there?” she continued, astonished.

“Er…”

“Never
mind!” she told him, making a command decision. She picked up one of Tad’s suitcases and then grabbed the boy by the hand. “I can see that I’m going to have to come along too.”

Tad tugged on his nanny’s arm in a sudden burst of excitement and relief.  “Nanny, if
you
come I know Mr. Hoppypants won’t be afraid!” he announced eagerly.  “And you can tell
D
addy that
you’re
my nanny and then the new nanny can go home!”

From the driver’s comments, Bridget wasn’t at all certain that there
was
a new nanny at all, but she didn’t want to get Tad’s hopes up too high by telling him that she would stay.  She didn’t want to get her
own
hopes up either.  Even if there wasn’t a nanny yet, there was no guarantee that Mr. Devoe would hire her
. Of course,
she would try her damnedest to see that he did!

What sort of parent expected a child of Tad’s age to travel alone, take care of himself, feed himself, and put himself to bed?  Bridget could feel her cheeks growing warm with anger.  If Paul Devoe didn’t meet her standards then there was no way that she was going to leave
her
baby alone in his care.

Bridget settled herself and Tad in the car while Bob finished stowing the luggage.  Tad stared out the window at the passing traffic as he held his nanny’s hand.

“Sort of glad you came
along
, miss,” Bob said as he jumped into the driver’s seat.  “I didn’t realize the little guy was
such
a little guy.”

Bridget offered the driver a smile, pleased that she wasn’t the only one utterly appalled by Mr. Devoe’s complete lack of care or common sense.

“Nanny, can we play ‘I Spy’?” Tad asked.  “Ninjaboy wants to play too, but Raymond and Frog are still scared there won’t be room for them at the new house,” he added, lowering his voice to a whisper, as though he didn’t want them to overhear.

“I promise that there will be enough space for everyone,” Bridge
t
assured her young charge, and then the two of them proceeded to play games for the duration of the journey.

Finally standing inside of Chef Devoe’s apartment, Bridget realized that space would not
be a
problem.  The
place
was huge.

“Didn’t I tell you that there was going to be room for everyone?” she said, smiling down at Tad. He was still holding her hand.  “I wonder if you’ll find any new friends here?” she winked.

“Do you think?” Tad perked up for a moment, but then cast a worried glance around at the unfamiliar space.  “Daddy’s not here, is
he
?”

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Bridget said gently.

“These are the last two suitcases,” Bob grunted, squeezing in behind them and dropping the luggage inside the door.  He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.  I’m sorry there were so many.”

“That’s fine.  Little guy needs all his stuff, doesn’t he?” Bob winked at Tad, who hid behind Bridget’s skirt.  “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Bridget said quickly, before he could get away.  “You don’t have a contact number for Mr. Devoe, do you?  I tried his cell phone earlier, but he didn’t answer.” 

Bob laughed.  “Yeah, he’s like that. He’s a devil of a man to get hold of- plain impossible to contact during service. His cell is the only number I’ve got for him too.”

“But-” Bridget was shocked.  “But what if there’s an emergency?”

Bob shrugged apologetically.  “I guess you could try his restaurant, but I don’t know if they’d dare to interrupt him.”

“Right.”  Bridget’s nostrils flared.  She added this to the growing list of things that she and Tad’s father needed to have a talk about.

“Am I really going to live here, Nanny?” Tad asked quietly, once Bob the driver had left.  The child had released Bridget’s hand, but he didn’t wander more than a step or two away from her side.

“Of course,” Bridget said, mustering some enthusiasm for his sake.  “Why don’t we have a look around?  I bet we can find your new room!”

“Okay.”

Tad sounded uncertain, and Bridget couldn’t blame him.  She was sure the apartment cost a fortune. It was large and airy, but it was also sterile and imposing. It was most certainly not child friendly.  The minimalist design of the place looked like it belonged in an art gallery, not a home.  Bridget hoped the other rooms were a bit cozier.

They weren’t.

“Which bedroom is mine,
N
anny?” Tad asked nervously.

They had discovered two spare bedrooms, practically identical in their stark white design.

“Which one would you like, sweetheart?” Bridget asked, trying not to let her annoyance show.  Hadn’t Mr. Devoe done
anything
to prepare for his son’s arrival?

“I like my old room,” Tad muttered sulkily.

“Why don’t you take this one?” she suggested, selecting a door at random.  “We can ask your dad if he had one of them particularly in mind for you when he gets back.”

“Okay,” Tad sighed glumly.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “Mr. Hoppypants says he doesn’t like it here,
N
anny.”

Bridget patted Tad’s dark hair reassuringly.  “First days are always the hardest,” she said.  “Soon you’ll be so used to living here that you won’t remember what you were ever worried about.  Now, why don’t we carry on our tour of your new house?  You can pick which door we open next.”

Tad managed to uncover the master bedroom.  At least, she assumed that’s what it was. It was larger than the other two spaces and had a huge window overlooking the park. There was a white chef’s shirt hanging on one of the wardrobe doors, and the air was touched very slightly with the scent of something warm and spicy.

Bridget might have felt guilty for intruding on Chef Devoe’s personal space if there had been anything personal about the feel of the room.  Her concern about leaving Tad in his father’s care was growing by the second, but it reached a new pinnacle when they got to the kitchen.

This was the only room in the whole apartment that felt loved. 
It
was flooded with sunlight and lacked the rigid order of the other rooms.  One of the drawers had been left slightly open, a cupboard was ajar, and there were pots and plates left drying by the sink.  It had a whole different feel
from
the rest of the house.

“I guess this room’s okay,” Tad announced, obviously sensing the difference too. 

The little boy stood on his tiptoes and poked his finger into a pot of fresh parsley. That was when Bridget saw it: a note sitting on the kitchen counter.  She was relieved, at first, until she read what it said. 

It was a list of house rules.

No running.  No loud games.  No shoes.  No mess.  ONLY use food from the SECOND shelf in fridge! 

Bridget only managed to reach rule number five (of twenty!) before she lost her temper.  She tore the paper in half, into quarters, into eighths, and then screwed it up and threw it into the trash. 
Good God!
S
he thought to herself.
The man was not to be trusted with a child!

“Nanny?”

Bridget realized belatedly that Tad was watching her.  His eyes were wide with worry.

“Was that from
D
addy?

“It was- rubbish,” Bridget said, waving his concerns away as she tossed the paper into the trash compactor. She forced a bright smile onto her lips and changed the subject. “Now, why don’t we start unpacking? I’m sure you’ll feel a lot more settled once you have all your own things around you.” 

They unearthed some of Tad’s toys and then Bridget order
ed
a pizza for their supper using the cash that had been sitting beside the note. Bridget was afraid that she might use the wrong jar of mustard if she ventured back into Paul’s kitchen to make a sandwich.  She watched Tad eat, smiling when he managed to cover his whole face in tomato sauce. She didn’t take any pizza for herself. Instead, she tried to drown the rumbling of her stomach with a tall glass of water. 

Bridget helped Tad bathe and dress for bed.  She expected Chef Devoe to return at any minute. She became increasingly uneasy as the minutes and hours ticked by.  She let Tad stay up until ten o’clock. When his father still wasn’t home, she tucked him into bed, relieved that the day had worn him out.  He was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow.

Bridget wished that she could sleep too, but one of them had to be awake to greet Paul when he got home.  Besides, given that she still didn’t know whether or not she was staying, she couldn’t curl up in the other spare bedroom.  She settled onto one of the chairs in the open plan living room.  It was surprising
ly
comfortable, so comfortable in fact, that she was asleep not long after Tad.

Paul Devoe had not had a great day.  In fact, he would go so far as to say he
’d
had an absolutely terrible day.  All he wanted to do was to go home and to crawl into bed.  He didn’t even want to
think
about everything that had gone wrong. 

He opened the door of his apartment and flicked on the light. He intended to head straight for his bedroom.  Something stopped him though.  There was a strange smell.  It took him a moment to place it, but then his face flushed in annoyance at the realization that someone had been eating a
fast food
pizza in his home.  This outrage was quickly
forgotten
when he realized that there was a
woman
asleep in his living room.

Paul approached her cautiously, convinced that his eyes were playing tricks on him.  At least they were playing a nice trick.  The sleeping woman was beautiful.  Her features were relaxed in slumber giving her an air of gentleness and vulnerability.  She was full-figured; her lush body looked so soft and inviting that Paul’s mouth went dry.  

He stared for a moment before he came back to his senses. Paul shook his head in annoyance. Who
was
she? More to the point, what was she doing in his apartment?

He touched the woman’s arm lightly. When she didn’t stir in the slightest, Paul gave her a firmer prod. She sighed sweetly and her eyelashes fluttered open, revealing kind, drowsy green eyes.

“Mr. Devoe?”

Paul couldn’t immediately place her accent, but it wasn’t American. Her voice was soft and husky with sleep. When it curled around his name he felt
a
strong tug in the pit of his stomach.  He was almost too distracted to wonder how she knew who he was.

“Mr. Devoe?”

Her features transformed as she became more awake. Paul didn’t like the ugly frown that replaced her sleepy smile or the way that her eyes suddenly flashed with fury.

“Mr. Devoe!  What were you THINKING?”

“Ugh- I-
what
?” Paul wasn’t the sort of man who was often at a loss for words but he was struggling at the moment.