The Nanny Diaries Part 27

"Sorry!" I slamthedoorclosed.

"Grayer,who's that?" I ask.

"That's CarsonSpender. She's stayingtheweekend."

"O-kay." Just then I hear a car pull up the gravel drive. I go over to the window and watch Mr. X direct a Range Rover around to the side of the house. 1 walk down the hall to the dingy clerestory window facingthe oceanand see the car pull in next to four others parked by the overgrown hedge.There are at leasttenchildrenonthebacklawn.

"Grover?" I call, and he comes thumping down the hall. I heave him up so he can see out the window.

"Wh.o.a.rethosekids?"

"I dunno. They're just kids." I kiss him on the top of his head and put him down as the bathroom door opens. Carsonshootsme a dirty lookbeforemarchingdownstairs.

"G,whydon't youheaddownand I'll changequickly?"

"I wanttostaywith you,"hesays, followingme backintoour room.

"Okay,youcanstandoutsidethedoor."I trytocloseit.

"Nanny,youknowI don't likethat." I pullitback,soit's barely cracked,andpulloffmyshorts. "Nanny?

Canyouhearme?"

"Yes, Grove."Hestickshislittle fingersunderthedoor.

"Nanny, try to catch my fingers! Come on, catch "em!" I look down for a moment, then kneel and gentlyticklethetipsofhis fingerswith myown.Hegigglesatmytouch.

"You know, Grove," I say, recalling that first week when he locked me out. "I got tnye thung thitikin outta,too,andyoucan't seeit."

"Noyoudon't, silly."

"HowdoyouknowI don't?"

"You'd never,Nanny. Hurryup, I'll showyouthepool. It's reallyreallyfreezing!"

Out back are men in summer suits, and women shivering in lawn dresses, all standinglike traffic cones aschildrenwhiz chaotically aroundthem.

"Mommy! Shetookmyprivacy!" I canhearCarsonpointingme outtohermather.

"Oh, Nanny, there you are," Mrs. X says. "We should all be beack around six. There's plenty of stuff in thefridgeforlunch.Havefun!"

A chorus of "Have a greattime, guys!" erupts aroundus astheadults headover to theircars, which take off,ca.r.s.eatsempty.

I look down at twelve expectant faces, as visions of an afternoon on the chaises quickly disappears.

"Okay, guys, I'm Nanny. I have a few ground rules. n.o.bODY goes near the pool. Is that clear? I don't want to seeanybody going past thattree over there or you will sit in the broom closet for the rest of the afternoon.Got.i.t?"Twelve headsnodsolemnly.

"Butwhatiftherewas a warandtheonlyplacetogoforsafetywasbythepooland?

"What's yourname?" I askthefreckledbrunetwith gla.s.ses.

"Ronald."

"Ronald, no more silly questions. If there's a war we go to the shed. Okay, everyone, go play!" I run inside, looking out every window I pa.s.s to make sure no one is even creeping toward the pool, to find Grayer's artkit.

I set up crayons, construction paper, and scotch tape on the patio table. "Okay, listen up! I want you all tocomeover here,oneat atime, andtellme yourname."

"Arden," asmall girlinOshKoshB'Goshtellsme.

I write "ARDEN" and a big "1" on her impromptu name tag and then tape it to her shirt. "Okay,Arden, you're one. Everytime I callout 'Headcount!'youshout 'One!'Gotthat?All youhaveto remember is 'one.'" She climbs up into mylap and becomes mya.s.sistant, pa.s.sing me the tapeand pens, alternately.

For an hour everyone runs around on the gra.s.s, some play with Grayer's toys, others just chase each other,while I look out atthefog-covered ocean.Every fifteenminutes I call out "HEADCOUNT!" and theysoundoff.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Silence. 1 tensetorundowntothepool.

"Jessy,you're four,dummy."

"Four!" a small voice squeaks.

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Grayer!"

"Nine!"

"Ten!"

"Eleven!"

"Twelve!"

"Okay, time for lunch!" I survey the troops. I am wary about leaving them outside while I inspect the supplies. "Everyone inside!"

"Awww!"

"Come on,we canplayoutsideafter lunch."I slidethewobbling gla.s.s doorclosedafter number 12.

"Nanny,what's forlunch?I'm reallyreally hungry,"Grayer asks.

"1 dunno. Let's go take a look." Grayer follows me into the kitchen, leaving 7,9, and 3, who are turning thelivingroomcouch into afort.

I pull open the fridge. "Okay, let's see what we've got!" Umm, three fat-free yogurts, a box of SnackWell's, aloafof fat-freesourdough,mustard,brie,localjam,and a zucchini.

255.

"Okay, troops! Listen up!" Eleven hungry faces look up at me from their various tasks in the group mission to destroy the living room. "Here are the choices: we have jam sandwiches, but you may not like the bread. Or we have brie sandwiches, but you may not like the cheese. Or we have Cheerios, but no sugar to sprinkle on top. So, I would like you to come in the kitchen one at a time to taste the bread andthecheeseandseewhichoneyouwant."

"I wantpeanutb.u.t.terandjelly!" Ronaldshouts.

I turn around and shoot him a quick Look of Death. "This is war, Ronald. And in war you get the supplies your commanding officer sends you." I salute him. "So let's all be good soldiers and eat the cheese." I'm making the last sandwich when the first raindrops fall, blanketing the sliding doors with a thick sheetofwater.

"Bye, Carson!" Grayer andI call outastheSpendersbegintopullout ofthedriveway Sundaynight.

"Bye, Grayer!" she calls back from her car seatand then puts her right thumb up to her nose and waves her fingers at me. Despite my best efforts all weekend I was evidently never able to work my way back intohergoodgracesafter "taking"herprivacy.

"Grayer, are you ready?" Mrs. X comes outside in a green and cream silk coat, Prada's signature look thisspring,puttinginher rightpearlearring.

"Mommy,canI bringmyKokichu?" heasks.

We've beeninvited over for a "casualSundaysupper" attheHomers' andGrayer feels he needs tocome equippedwith somethingtoshare,sinceEllie,their four-year-old,has a guineapig.

"I supposethat'll be okay. Whydon't we leave it in the car when we get there and then I'll let you know ifit's okaytobringitout?Nanny,whydon't yourunupstairs andchange?"

"I am changed," I say, glancing down to confirm that I am still wearing clean chinos and a white turtlenecksweater.

"Oh.Well, I supposeit's okay.You'll probablybeoutsidewith thechildrenmost of thetime, anyway."

"Okay, everybody in thecar!" Mr. X comes by, swooping Grayer up, and carries him, sack-of-potatoes!style, outside.

As soon as we get in the car Mr. X plugs his cell phone into the dashboard and starts dictating instructions to Justine's voice mail. The rest of us sit quietly, Grayer clutching his Kokichu, me balled upunderthecanoestaringatmybellyb.u.t.ton.

As Mr. X unplugs his cell phone he sighs. "This is a really bad week for me to be away from the office.

It's terribletiming."

"ButyousaidthebeginningofJunewasgoingtobequiet?shesays.

"Well, I'm justwarningyou I'll probablyhavetogobackonThursdayfor ameeting."

Sheswallows. "Well,whenwill youbeback?"

"I'm not sure. It looks like I'll probably have to stay over the weekend to entertain the execs from Chicago."

"I thoughtyourworkwith theChicagoofficewasdone,"shesays tightly.

"It's not that simple. Now there's the issue of layoffs, merging divisions. eorging and making this thingrun."

Shedoesn't reply.

"Besides,I witt havebeenhere awhole week,"hesays,makinga leftturn.

"Whyareyouturningawayfromthewater?" sheasks edgily.

We have trouble finding the house because, according to the instructions, it's on the inland side of the mainroad.

"I just can't believe they wouldn't have an oceanview," Mrs. X says, as she forces us to round the same trafficcircle forthethirdtime. "Give me backtheinstructions."

Heb.a.l.l.sup thepieceofpaperandthrowsitather withouttak!

ing his eyes off the road. She smooths it out methodically on her knee. "You must have copied them downbackward."

"Let's becrazyandjustfollowthef.u.c.kingdirections andseewherewe endup," hehisses.

"I'm starving.I'm gonnadieifI don't eat," Grayermoans.

Dusk is falling when we finally pull into the Homers' shingled, three-story house. Ferdie, their golden retriever, is sleeping peacefully on the wraparound porch under the hammock and the crickets chirp loudlyingreeting.JackHornerpushesthescreendoor open,wearing fadedjeansandBirkenstocks.

"Takeoffyourtie!Quick!" Mrs. Xwhispers.

"Parkanywhere!" heshoutswith a broadsmilefromtheporch.

Mr. X isdivestedofhis blazer,tie,andcufflinks beforewe canget outofthecar.

I stretchout my cramped back as I walk aroundto thetrunk.I fish the rhubarbpie Mrs. X boughtat the supermarket this morning out of the cooler. "Here, I'll take that," she says, walking off after Mr. X, who's holding a bottle of wine, and followed by Grayer, holding his Kokichu in front of him, like the threewise men.

"Jack!"Themenshakehandsandclapeachotherontheback.

Elliepeeksaroundthe door. "Mom!They're here!"

Jack ushers us into the cozy living room, where one wall is completely covered in the children's art and a macaronisculpturesitsonthecoffeetable.

Carolinecomes outofthekitchenwearingjeansand awhiteblouse, wipingherhandsonher ap.r.o.n. "Hi!

I'm sorry,don't shakemy hands. was just marinating the steaks." Ellie attaches herself to Caroline's leg. "Didyouguys haveanytroublefindingtheplace?"

"Not atall, yourdirections wereperfect,"Mrs. Xquicklyresponds. "Here."Shehandsoffthepiebox.

"Oh, thank you. Hey, Elle, whydon't you showGrayer your room?" She b.u.mps the girl gently with her hip.

"Wanna see my Kokichu?" He takes a step forward, proffering the fluffy ball. She looks down at the yellow furandrunsoff,Grayer's cuetofollow,andtheyscamperupstairs.

"Nanny,whydon't yougowatch thekids?" Mrs. Xsays tome.

"Oh, they're fine. I took away Elite's Ginsu knives, so Grayer should be safe," Caroline says, laughing.

"Nanny,wouldyoulikesomewine?"

"Yes, drinks.What's your pleasure?" Jackasks.