The Nanny's Secret

“Yes, my darling.” Felicity injected all the assurance she could into her words. “I promise.”

If there was one thing he hated, it was the smell of burned toast.

It hailed Jordan as he strolled along the corridor to the kitchen next morning, and set his teeth on edge.

She wasn’t to have known, of course, that toast always stuck in that old toaster; a person had to stand beside it and pop the toast up when it looked ready. Still, she shouldn’t even have been downstairs, far less making toast! She should have had the savvy to stay upstairs till after he’d gone. She must know how he felt about her; and the last thing he’d want was to have to make conversation with Denny Fairfax’s sister at the best of times…and first thing in the morning, before he’d even had his first mug of coffee, was certainly not that.

Surly, and prepared to be curt, though not to the point of rudeness, because dammit, he needed her—at least for the time being!—he shoved the kitchen door open.

And found the room empty.

Oh, she’d been down all right, and not too long ago. The smell of burned toast was even more cloying in here. The sweetish aroma of strawberry tea fought a losing battle for survival under it.

A black-and-red tea caddy, with a pattern of dragons, sat on the counter.

A note on the table read “Your Toaster’s Broken.”

And over by the back door, on the gleaming white-tiled floor, her cat was throwing up.

“Good morning, Jordan!” Bette welcomed him with a cheery smile. “Glad to see you back…and you’re the first one in!” She ran an approving glance over him. “Looking like your old self, too. Nice shave, hair immaculate, no pink hairbrushes peeking out of your pocket! So I gather you’ve solved your problems with Mandy? You’ve found someone reliable? You’re—”

“Yes, yes…and yes, to whatever your third question was going to be.” Jordan ran frustrated fingers through his hair, making a mockery of Bette’s “immaculate” comment. “Java, Bette. Please tell me you’ve made the coffee?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I have. But you don’t usually have any here till midmorning. You always have coffee at home first thing in the morning to set you up—”

“Not this morning, I didn’t!” He was already halfway to the staff room. Over his shoulder, he threw back, “Not with that darned cat throwing up all over the place.”

The coffeepot was full. He took his mug from the cupboard—the one he’d got last Christmas from Mandy with her picture on it. According to the child, “Fizzy” had had it done at a photo shop, ’specially for him.

He’d never met “Fizzy,” his daughter’s baby-sitter, but he’d appreciated the thought that had gone into the gift. He’d always meant to let her know, but time had slipped away from him…and then…it was too late. The very name “Fairfax” had become anathema to him, and “Fizzy” Fairfax was the last person in the world with whom he’d wanted to become involved in any way, shape or form—

“Cat?” Bette materialized at his side. “You can’t stand cats! What was a cat doing in your kitchen?”

Jordan filled his mug with coffee. “You don’t want to know.”

“But I do.”

Bette Winslow had been married four times, and had, she often said, “Seen it all.” In her early fifties, she had the kind of personality that invited confidences—and all the agents knew that Bette in Reception was closer than a clam.

Jordan was a private person and normally he didn’t talk to outsiders about his personal problems. Today, however, frustration had him wanting to tell someone about his impossible situation. And if anyone would listen and show him sympathy, it would surely be Bette.

He added milk to his coffee, and drank half of the teeming mug in one long swallow.

Only then did he set the mug on the table, fold his arms over his chest, and say, “It’s Felicity Fairfax’s cat.”

Like everyone else in the office, Bette had learned that his wife and Denny Fairfax had been having an ongoing affair during the several months before Denny had smashed up his sports car, killing Marla in the process and sending himself into a coma. And she must know how he would feel about any of the Fairfaxes.

“So,” she said, “you’ve rehired Felicity Fairfax to baby-sit Mandy, and she’s going to live in.”

Bette, he mused, never needed to have things spelled out. “Right,” he said.

“A wise decision.”

“I had no other choice. My hours are erratic, you know I work late more often than not, and I couldn’t go leaving Mandy with her while I’m closing some late-night sale or—”

“I meant it was a wise decision to rehire Felicity Fairfax. I don’t know her, but my cousin Joanne does, and she has only the nicest things to say about her.”

“You missed my point, Bette. It wasn’t a so-called ‘wise decision’ to rehire the woman. A Fairfax is the last person I’d have hired, if I’d had a choice. I hadn’t.”

“You’re not telling me, Jordan Maxwell, that you’re tarring the sister with the same brush you were quite justified in tarring her brother with!” Censure tinged Bette’s voice. “For heaven’s sake, Jordan, the girl—”

“She’s not a girl!” He felt like a schoolboy put out after being reprimanded by a favorite teacher. “She’s a woman, and one I don’t want to be around.” He sounded, now, like a sulky schoolboy, and that irritated him.

“You have to put Mandy first. She’s the one who’s important here…not you. The poor child lost not only her mother but the baby-sitter she loved. I know she adores you but she needs a mother—or at least, a female to mother her. I don’t think you’d have had quite so serious a problem with her if she’d lost just one care-giver—in that case, she’d have been able to turn to the other for comfort.”

“I know that,” he growled. “You don’t have to…” His voice trailed away as a thought occurred to him.

“Then what are you going to do, Jordan? I don’t see a way out. You’re determined to do what’s best for Mandy, but you’re just as determined to dislike this woman. Children sense conflict. It’s the last thing Mandy needs.”

“Don’t worry.” Jordan put his hand in the small of Bette’s back and ushered her toward the door. “What you said just now…you’ve given me an idea.” Smiling, he escorted her through to the reception area. “Thanks to you, I believe I see a way out of my dilemma.”

Felicity looked down at her sleeping charge and wondered if she’d ever felt happier. She’d told Joanne the truth when she’d said she couldn’t have loved Mandy more if she were her own child. Being here, caring for her again, was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.

Her heart went all mushy now as she gazed upon the little girl, who looked adorable in sleep. Her bubbly blond curls were tousled, her cheeks were flushed to the same pink as her nightie, and her rosebud mouth pouted, as if she were blowing bubbles in her dreams.

She looked like a fairy…but at the thought, Felicity frowned, wondering again why Jordan still put her to bed in her crib. She reminded herself to ask him about it.

In the meantime, she was looking forward to spending the day with Mandy and wished she would wake up!

As if the child had read her mind, she opened her eyes and when she saw Felicity, her face split in a smile.

She scrambled to her feet. “Fizzy! You’re still here!”

“Of course I’m here, darling. Didn’t I tell you I always would be?”

“Let me out! Out, out, out!”

Laughing, Felicity unhooked the side of the crib and slid it down. Then taking both Mandy’s hands, she encouraged the child to jump, and swung her down, her narrow feet landing with a light thump on the carpet.

“I’ve been waiting for you to waken,” Felicity said, “so we can start our first day here together.”

Ten minutes later, they were on their way downstairs, with Mandy wearing the yellow T-shirt and shorts she’d chosen from her wardrobe, with a pair of yellow sandals.

“After breakfast,” Felicity said, “We’ll go out for a walk. But before we go out, would you like to show me over the whole house? It’s lovely, but so big. I’m sure to get lost if you don’t show me where everything is.”

“And I’ll show you outside, too.” Mandy skipped along happily. “There’s a garden, and a greenhouse, and a hot tub. Daddy sometimes uses the hot tub, but only in the winter. He says it’s for grown-ups, to relax after a hard day. Do you have hard days, Fizzy?”

She’d had some very hard days over the last three months, but now, thanks to whichever angel was sitting on her shoulder, life was going to be wonderful.