The Nanny Diaries Part 11

"Justine?"

"Yes?" shewhispers. Issheunderher desk?In theladies'room?

"Okay, I'm going in the closet." Her "closet" is actually a large chocolate-brown dressing room, complete with a long velvet bench. Mrs. X's paranoia is such that I'm sure she's convinced I not only snooparoundinhereon a dailybasis, butam, infact,wearingher underwearright now. Onthecontrary, I'm in a cold sweat and debate putting Justine on hold again so I can call Mrs. X on her cell phone to confirmthatshe's really,reallyfaraway.

Regardless,I startgentlyrifflingthemerchandiseandanswering Justine's questions. "Size two ... Herrera, Yves Saint Laurent... Shoe size seven and a half, Ferragamo, Chanel... Her purses are Hermes. o outside pockets and she hates zippers ... I don't know, pearls, maybe? Shelikespearls."Andsoonandsoforth.

"You've been a lifesaver,"shegushes. "Oh,onemorething.IsGrayer doingchemistry?"

"Chemistry?"

"Yeah, Mr. Xtoldmetogobuyhim achemistrysetandsomeGuccislippers."

"Right."We bothlaugh. "The Lion King,"I say. "Heloves anything todowithTheLion King,Aladdin, Winnie-the-Pooh.He's four."

"Thanks again, Nanny. Merry Christmas!" After clicking off I take one last look around at the tower of cashmere sweaters, each one wrapped with tissue and individually stored in its> own clear drawer, the wall of shoes, each stuffed with a satin triangle, the racks of fall, winter, and spring suits, going from lightest to darkest, from left to right. I tentatively pull open a drawer. Each pair of panties, every bra, every pair of stockings, is individually packed in a Ziplock baggy and labeled: "Bra, Hanro, white," "Stockings,Fogal,black."

The doorbell rings and I jump about sixteen feet, panting with relief when I hear Grayer let Henry, Allison's father, in. I slide the drawer shut and walk calmly out to the hall, where a bemused Henry is watchingGrayer andAllisontrying totageachotherwith theirscarves.

"Okay, Ally, I have to get dinner started. Let's get it together." He finally catches her, steadying her betweenhis kneestotieherscarf.

I handover hersmall lodencoatasHenrysecuresherhatandushersher intothevestibule.

"Saygood-bye toAllison,Grayer."I nudgehimandhewavesfreneticallywith bothhands.

"Good-bye, Gray-er. Thank you for a lovely afternoon! Au revoir, Nanny!" she cries as the elevator opens.

"Thanks, Nan," Henry says, turning and accidentally swinging one ofAllison's boots right into another memberof theXfamily.

"Oh!" Mrs. X flinches.

"I'm sosorry,"Henrysays,asAllisonburiesherheadinhis neck.

"No,please,I'm fine. Didyou all have agoodtime?"

"Yes!" Grayer andAllisonshout.

"Well," Henry says, "I better get back and start dinner. Richard'11 be home soon and I need to get the ornamentsdown."

"Your nanny's dayoff?" sheaskswith a knowingsmile.

"Oh,wedon't have a nanny?

"You havetwodaddiestodothehigh-ups?" Grayer interruptshim.

"Mygoodness,"Mrs. Xsays quickly, "however doyoumanage?"

"Well, youknow,they're onlythisageonce."

"Yes." Shelooks a littlepinched. "Grayer,saygood-bye!"

"I alreadydid,Mommy.You're late."

Thedoorslidesshut.

Much later that night I ride down in the elevator half-asleep, entertaining the fantasy of walking along the Seine humming "La Vie en Rose." It's twenty past twelve on the twenty-second. Only twenty-four morehours togountil amonthoffandmoneyinmypocket.

" 'Night, James," I say to the doorman, just as he opens the door for H. H., rosy cheeked and carrying a FoodEmporiumbag.

"Hey,there. Justgetoffwork?" heasks, smiling.

"Yup." Pleasedon't letme havesteamedchardbetweenmyteeth.

"Thatwa.s.somefinewa.s.sailing.You trainhim?"

"Impressed?" I askcarefully withmyupperlip curleddown.

Enoughpatter,wheristhedate?

"Listen," he says, loosening his scarf, "are you doing anything right now, 'cause I just have to run upstairs. Mymom's in aChristmas bakingfrenzyandweranoutof vanilla."

Oh.Now?

Okay,nowworksforme.

"Yeah, great."As thenumbers go from one toeleven and back again I quickly run tothebeveled mirror andgroomlike a madwoman.I hopeI'm notboring.I hopehe's notboring.I trytoremember ifI shaved this morning. Ugh, I'll be so b.u.mmed if he's boring. And let's try not sleeping with him. Tonight. I'm applying afurtive swipeoflip glossastheelevatorapproaches "L."

"Hey,haveyoueatenyet?" heasksasJamesopensthedoor forus.

" 'Night, James," I call over my shoulder. "It depends on what you mean by eating. If you consider a fistful of Goldfishand a fewdrytortellini amealthenI'm stuffed."

"Whatare youupfor?"

"Well."I thinkfor amoment. "Theonlyplaces with openkitchensrightnowarecoffeeshopsandpizza.

Takeyourpick."

"Pizzasoundsgood.Isthatokay?"

"Anything notinthisbuildingsoundsfabulous."

"Here, sit on myjacket," he says as he closes the empty pizza box.TheMetropolitan Museum steps are coldandit's startingtoseep upthroughmyjeans.

"Thanks."I tuckhis bluefleeceundermeandlookdownFifthAvenueatthetwinklingholidaylightsof theSlanhopeHotel. H. H. pullsthecontainerofBenandJerry's PhishFoodoutof a brownpaperbag.

"So what's itlikeworkingontheninthfloor?"

"Exhausting and weird." I look back at him. "That apartment has all the holiday warmth of a meat lockerandGrayer has a loneStyrofoamsnowman hanginginhis closet, becauseshewon't let himput.i.t anywhereelse."

"Yeah,she's always struckmeas alittle high-strung."

"You havenoidea,andwith theholidays it's likeworkingfor a drillsergeantwithADD?

"Come on,itcan't bethatbad."Henudgesme with his knees.

"Excuseme?"

"I usedtobaby-sit inthebuilding.You eatsomefood,playsome games?

"Oh, my G.o.d. That is not my job at all. 1 spend more time with this kid than anybody" I slide an inch awayfromhim onthestep.

"Whataboutontheweekends?"

"TheyhavesomebodyinConnecticut.They're only alonewith himforthedrive outandback. ndthey do thatatnightsohe's asleep!There's nocoming together.I thoughtmaybe they were just waiting for a holiday, but apparently not. Mrs. X is having Christmas by herself at Barneys, so she's been sending us all over town,withtherestofAmerica, mindyou,justtogethimoutofthehouse."

"b.u.t.there's somuchcoolstufftodowith akidthistime of year."

"He's four. He slept through the Nutcracker, the Rockettes scared the s.h.i.t out of him, and he developed some kind of weird heat rash while waiting for three hours to see Santa at Macy's. But mostly we just standinlineforthebathroom. Everywhere. Not acabtobe found,nota?

"Soundslikeyouhavedefinitelyearnedsomeicecream."He handsme a spoon.

1 haveto laugh. "I'm sorry,you're thefirst grown-up without shoppingbags thatI've talkedto in a good forty-eight hours. I'm just a little Christmased outatthemoment."

"Oh, don't say that. This is such an awesome time of year to be living in the city, all the lights and the people." He gestures to the sparkling Christmas decorations on FifthAvenue. "It makes you appreciate thatwe're luckyenoughtolivehereyearround." I digintothecarton, tracing a swirl ofcaramel. "You're right. Upuntil twoweeksagoI wouldhavesaid itwasmyfavoritetime ofyear."We pa.s.s thePhishFoodbackandforthandlookover atthe wreathsintheStanhope's windowsandthelittlewhite bulbsburningontheawning.

"You seemlike a holidaykindofgirl."

I blush. "Well,ArborDayisreallywhenI go all out."

Helaughs.Oh,sweetG.o.d,youarehot.

Heleansin. "So,doyoustill thinkI'm ana.s.shole?"

"I never saidyouwereana.s.shole."I smile back.

"Just ana.s.sholebya.s.sociation."

"Well..."AAAAAAHHH!!!!HE'S KISSINGME!!!!!

"Hi,"hesays softly,his facestill almost touchingmine.

"Hi."

"Canwe pleasestartover andputDorrian's really,reallyfarbehindus?"

I smile. "Hi,I'm Nan..."

"Nanny?Nanny!"

"Right.What?"

"Your turn. It's your turn." Poor G, this is the third time he's had to snap me back from the steps of the Metwheremybrainhas takenuppermanent residence.

I move mygingerbreadmanfromanorangesquareto ayellow square. "Okay,Grove,b.u.t.thisisthelast gameandthenwe'vegottotryonthoseclothes." ^ "Oh,man."

"Come on, it'll befun.You cando a little fashionshowforme."Thebedis piledwith Grayer's wardrobe from last summer and we need to figure out what, if anything, still fits so that he can be properly outfitted forhis vacation.I knowputtingtogether a resortwardrobeis hardlyhow hewantstospendhis lastafternoonwithme,butordersare orders.

Afterwe putawaythegame I kneelonthefloorandhelp himin THE NANNY DIARIES andoutandinandoutofshorts,shirts,swimming trunks,andtheworld's tiniest navyblueblazer. "Owww!Toosmall! It hurts!" His arm chubhas beencompressedlike a hot-dog bunwith a rubberband aroundthemiddlebythelittle whiteLacoste tee.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting you out, be patient." I peel him out of the shirt and hold up a stiff Brooks Brothersoxford.

"I don't like thatone so much,"he says, shakinghis head, then, slowly, "I think . . . it's ... too .. . small,"

hesays intently.

I look down at the b.u.t.tons on the sleeve and the starched collar. "Yeah. I think you're right. ay too small. You probably shouldn't wear it anymore," I say conspiratorially, folding the offending item and puttingit ontherejectpile.

"Nanny, I'm bored." He puts his hands on either side of my face. "No more shirts. Let's play Candy Land!"

"Come on, just one more, G." I help him into the blazer. "Now walk down to the end of the room and back. et me see how gorgeous you are." He looks at me like I'm crazy, but starts to walk away, lookingbackover his shoulderevery fewstepstomakesureI'mnot up tosomething.

"Work it, baby!" I shout when he reaches the wall. He turns and eyes me warily until I whip out an imaginary camera and pretend to take pictures. "Come on, baby! You're fabulous. Show it off!" He takes his jazz-hands pose at the end of the carpet. "Woohoo!" I catcall as if Marcus Shenkenberg had justlosthis towel. Hegiggles,throwinghimself intotheshowaswemakepouty lipsateachother.

"You're gorgeous, dahling," I say, leaning down to take off the blazer and kissing the air by both his cheeks.

"You'll bebackreallysoon,right,Nanny?" Heshakeshis arm free. "Tomorrow?"

"Here, let's look at the calendar again so you can see how fast it's going to go and you'll be in the Bahamas?

1 19.

"Litferrr Cay,"hecorrects.

"Right."We leanintolookattheNannyCalendarI made. "AndthenAspen,wherethere'll berealsnow andyoucansledandmakesnow.a.n.gelsand asnowman.You're goingtohaveanawesome time."

"h.e.l.lo?" I hear Mrs. X call out. Grayer runs to the front hall and I take a moment to fold the last little shirtandthenfollow him.

"Howwasyour afternoon?" sheasks brightly.

"Grayer was a very goodboy. etriedoneverything," I say, leaningagainst thedoorway. "The pile on thebedisthestuffthatfits."

"Oh,excellent!Thankyousomuch."

Grayer is bouncing up and down in front of Mrs. X and pulling on her mink. "Come see my show!

Comeinmyroom!"

"Grayer,whathavewediscussed?Haveyouwashedyour hands?" sheasks,evadinghis grasp.