Just Like This (Albin Academy #2) - Cole McCade Page 0,138
word was pronounced without the final r. “Where’s your young man?”
Peter, never one to pass up a grand entrance, burst out of the bedroom and waved at Vanessa. “I’m here.” My boy wasn’t shy, I had to give him that.
“You certainly are. And what a handsome young man! What’s your name, sir?”
“Peter. Peter Campbell. Nice to meet you.”
“And you’re polite! I’m Vanessa.” She extended her hand and Peter shook it without hesitation. “I live right downstairs. You liking South Bay so far, kiddo?”
Peter nodded and I took a moment to admire my son’s earnest politeness. I’d been busy when he was little, swamped with culinary school and work, but he still turned out sweeter than any of my siblings despite all the manners forced on us. “It’s really pretty. I think I might miss Chicago, though. It seems a little boring here.”
“Well how about tomorrow I take you to the beach while your mom here gets cooking?”
Peter’s blue eyes flashed wide and I could practically hear the please, Moms radiating off him.
I pressed my lips together. As nice as Vanessa seemed, I didn’t know the woman from Adam. I’d hired a nice woman with state background checks from a reputable nanny service to take care of Peter for the two months until he started school. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got a sitter. You’ve been too kind already.”
She nodded seriously. “Look, I get it, Adah. You don’t know me. I’m just your landlady. I could be a total weirdo. But I was the principal at Water Street Elementary for almost two decades. I can give you references, and I won’t charge you.” Her expression was soft, the sort of open kindness I’d always looked for in my own mother’s eyes.
“Really, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much as it is.”
“Mom,” Peter whined, “I wanna go with Ms. Vanessa. The beach.” He cast a wistful look out the window.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. After two full days of driving, retrieving the keys from underneath the flowerpot Vanessa described in great detail in one of her emails, and collapsing onto the couch for a fitful few hours of sleep, I hadn’t exactly prioritized fun excursions for Peter in our new hometown. When we’d discussed moving up to Maine, we’d spent hours looking at slideshows of hiking trails, lighthouses, and wildlife in the frozen north. So far all we’d done was clean, eat pizza, and walk around the corner to buy light bulbs. Not exactly thrilling stuff for a nine-year-old. Or for a thirty-one-year-old, for that matter.
Vanessa tapped away on a giant smartphone. “Okay. I just sent you a list of five references you can call. Teachers I worked with, admins in the district, and my best friend Sally. Oh, and the pastor at my church for good measure.”
I kept my face neutral even as her final phrase lit up every one of my nerves like fire tearing through dry brush. Deep breath in, hold it, push all the air out.
Finally, after Peter crossed the small kitchen to tug on the hem of my T-shirt, I relented. “Alright. Well if you really don’t mind, I can check in on your references. I’ll text you the number for the restaurant and my friend Jay’s number in case you can’t get a hold of me. I have to get over there first thing tomorrow to meet with management. Is around seven thirty okay for you?”
It would be a godsend not to have to pay the sitter the agreed upon fifteen dollars an hour. Money was stretched tight as it was. But guilt reared its very familiar head at the thought of not paying Vanessa anything to watch Peter. Maybe I could at least arrange some kind of barter, free dinner once a week or something. Then fear climbed on top of guilt, just as familiar and just as unwelcome. What if despite the references and sweet veneer, Vanessa turned out to be a bad egg? What kind of person just agreed to help someone like this? I needed to move my body, burn off some of this frantic energy buzzing through me. I bit my lip hard. This would be fine. Everything was fine.
“Sweetheart.” It took me a long moment to realize Vanessa was speaking to me, not to my son. “I know this is a lot. New job. New place. I understand how hard it can be to start over. Let me help. Please.”