Bang (Blast Brothers #2) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,28
"But I didn't mind. Honest."
"Awwww…" With a smile, I reached out and gave Willow's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm really honored. I've never been anyone's birthday present before."
Even though I was truly touched, this new information made me feel just a little bit funny. Why, I wasn't even sure.
Was it because I'd be leaving someday, and I was worried how Willow would take it?
Or maybe it was because this meant that Mason had hired me not because he thought I'd do a good job, but rather because Willow had requested me personally.
I mean, seriously, how could he say no?
I was still mulling all of this over when the sounds of yelling erupted from the other side of the river.
I couldn’t tell who was yelling, but it sounded like a family argument. And it was coming from the big, glorious mansion directly across from us. The home was ultra-stylish, with lots of balconies, elaborate landscaping, and a huge back patio.
Next to me, Willow said, "You just wait. They'll come outside in a minute."
"Who?" I asked.
"The people across the street."
I shook my head. "The street?"
She pointed toward the river. "The river street. Where the boats go."
"Oh."
"On the regular street," she continued, "we don't have anyone living across from us." She grimaced. "But on the river street, we've got them."
She said "them" like it was a pack of child-eating monsters.
True to her prediction, less than thirty seconds passed before a couple of teenagers – a girl and a boy – erupted from the patio door. As they did, the girl – a spiky-haired brunette who appeared to be about seventeen – turned and hollered back toward the house, "You're not the boss of me!"
I winced. Talk about a cliché.
The boy, a stocky kid with longish brown hair, chimed in, "Yeah! Up yours, loser!"
Next to me, Willow said, "They're yelling at the nanny."
"How do you know?"
Her voice grew solemn. "Because they always yell at the nanny."
I frowned. "Aren't they a little old to have a nanny?"
"Well, yeah," Willow said. "But I'm a little old, too. So I guess it's okay."
At this, I had to smile. "Well, you are eight now."
"Oh, I know," she said. "That's why I asked for you. I didn't want to be treated like a baby anymore."
I was just about to reply when a third person erupted from the same mansion. It was a young woman around my own age. She was very pretty with ice blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was wearing a black dress that looked almost like a maid's uniform. Her face was flushed, and the front of her dress was covered in what looked like…? I frowned. "Is that breakfast cereal?"
Willow said, "Yup."
I shook my head. "But, it's not even breakfast time."
"I know," Willow said. "That's what makes it so interesting."
That was one way to put it. "Oh?"
Willow nodded. "But sometimes, they hit her with oatmeal."
"Seriously?" I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say. "And she puts up with it?"
"It's not always her," Willow said.
I frowned in confusion. "You mean, like, they have more than one nanny?"
"No. I mean the nannies keep changing."
"Oh. I can see why." I bit my lip. "You know what? I think we should go inside."
"But why?" Willow said. "If it's because of them, don't worry. They'll go back in a minute."
Again, I asked, "How do you know?"
"Because it's just a trick to lock her out."
"You mean the nanny?"
"Oh yeah," Willow said. "You just watch."
Sure enough, the two teenagers dodged around the nanny, raced back into the house, and slammed the patio door shut behind them. When the nanny marched to the same door and yanked at the doorknob, nothing happened.
She pounded on the door and called out, "Hey! You didn't lock me out, did you?" She gave another frantic tug at the knob. "Open up! I mean it!"
I looked to Willow. "Do you think we should call someone?"
Yes, I realized I was asking an eight-year-old for advice, but the truth was, she seemed far better informed than I'd ever be.
With a little shrug, she replied, "Nah. She'll just go through the window."
"What window?"
Willow pointed toward a low window near the back corner of the house. "That one."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Because that's what they always do. You just wait."
In morbid fascination, I watched as the nanny checked several windows one after another. Finding them all locked, she kept on going until she reached the same window that Willow had indicated earlier.