authoritative, and I feel oddly compelled to obey her. Beneath my hat, a few bobby pins have come undone. Loose bits of hair fall limply down my shoulders and back.
“Hrmph.” She’s standing next to me at the table now, uncomfortably close. I get the sense she’s appraising me like a slightly damaged antique overvalued at auction. “Not as striking as I’d been led to believe, but I do see a sickly sort of resemblance. Mostly in the cheekbones and hair.”
It hits me all at once who this woman must be. She looks like the painting, but much older. “Mrs. Talbot?” I venture.
She takes a small step back to extend one pale hand. Unlike everyone else I’ve encountered in Herron Mills, her skin decidedly lacks an early summer tan. “Yes,” she replies.
I take her hand in mine, and a small shiver runs through me. It’s very cold, and her grip is tight.
“I’m Anna,” I manage to choke out. “But I guess you knew that already.”
“Anna Cicconi, the au pair.” She releases my hand from her grasp. This time, I recognize the note in her voice: judgment.
Just then, a thin wail rises from the tennis court. A chubby girl with curly brown hair is on the ground, clutching what looks like a freshly skinned knee—Paisley’s erstwhile best friend, Claudia.
“Anna!” Paisley shouts, waving wildly even though I’m only a few yards away.
“You’d better go.” Mrs. Talbot’s voice pitches into a thin sneer that says plainly what she thinks of my nannying skills. I want to protest that I’d been watching them until she showed up, that Claudia isn’t even my responsibility, but I feel babyish in the shadow of her glare. Silenced.
Without saying anything, I rush off toward the girls on the court. I know where the Bellamys keep the first-aid kit. It’s only a scraped knee; I’ll get Claudia fixed up in no time. I can be good at this job. I’ve got this.
“And, Anna,” Mrs. Talbot says as Paisley slips her hand into mine, pulling me over to inspect Claudia’s wound. I turn my head to face her once more. “I won’t expect to see you at Windermere again. We don’t need anything … stirred up.”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Parasol propped over her shoulder, making me wonder if its previous use as a cane was entirely performative, she spins on her heel and starts off across the lawn, toward the deep thicket of trees that separate Clovelly Cottage from Windermere. I see then how she arrived so stealthily on the grounds. She didn’t come up the drive at all, but simply slipped through the trees between the properties.
I whip back around and scoop a wailing Claudia into my arms. With instructions to Paisley to take the other girls to the pool deck where their parents can see them, I head across the drive toward the front door.
* * *
At a few minutes after six, as Tom and Paisley splash together in the pool and the guests are starting to depart for their Sunday dinners and end-of-the-weekend rituals, I find myself standing alone at the bar with Emilia. One thin dress strap has slipped down a tan shoulder and her neat bob looks windswept. She gives our order to the bartender—a Negroni for her, seltzer and lime for me—and I notice that her speech is just slightly slurred.
I take a deep breath. If I’m about to offend her, maybe she’ll be less likely to hold it against me now. Maybe she won’t remember tomorrow.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Her eyes focus somewhere in the area of my nose. “Of course, Anna.”
“It’s about the job,” I begin.
“Oh.” She frowns. “Has it not been what you’ve expected?”
“It has,” I rush to say. “Everything’s been great. What I mean is, I’m hoping you would tell me why I was hired.”
“Ah.” Emilia plucks our drinks from the bar and takes a seat on a lounge chair. She hands over my seltzer, and I perch on a wicker seat beside her. In the pool, Tom tosses Paisley into the air, and she squeals. “It was Paisley’s choice, really. We interviewed three candidates in the spring. We were supposed to see two more after you, but we canceled those appointments. Paisley was set on you.”
“Do you know why?” I press.
“Well.” Emilia folds her lips together, as if not sure how much to say. “I’m sure someone has pointed out by now your resemblance to Zoe Spanos?”
I nod eagerly. My heart speeds up, a quick rat-a-tat