A Nanny for Christmas

I let out a breath I’d been holding. “Yes, of course. I didn’t think about it. I guess I’m still remembering Lindsay as the little twelve-year-old.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you turn up?”

“Nothing on Ms. Valentine herself. Her father is a treasure trove of questionable judgment and poor fiscal management though.”

“Hmm. I suppose I do remember that about him.” I hated to imagine the poor young girl dealing with that, but was also happy that the fact she needed money helped get her to accept the job. “How much does she need?”

Erik named the sum before adding, “And she wants a monthly salary and room and board. I told her it’s a live-in position, correct?”

If only I could avoid having a woman living in the home. It was different with Betsy and Margot, the chef. They stayed in a different part of the apartment, and both women were married, so I didn’t have to worry about entanglements. And Margot was old enough to be my mother.

I didn’t see a way around having Lindsay live with us though. Elle needed a constant, stable influence, and I doubted it would be a problem anyway. I was probably way too old for her to try to make a play for, and I certainly wasn’t going to be tempted by a mousy young girl who was going to be underfoot all the time. She was too young, and I knew better than to get involved with someone who would expect a commitment. Not that I anticipated being tempted in the slightest by the older version of the chubby, bespectacled tween I’d known.

CHAPTER 4

LINDSAY

T he lobby of the Imperial building was as imposing as it was beautiful. It was obvious to me that I didn’t belong, and I was sure the others milling around the area realized it too. An older, portly gentleman opened the door for me, bending his head. “Good morning, miss.”

“Uh, hi.” I walked through the doorway and stood hesitantly for a moment. “I’m here to meet Mr. Hudson. I guess I’ll be staying here. I mean…” I trailed off with a shrug, not sure what else to say.

“Wonderful. My name is Bill, Miss…?”

“Valentine, but please call me Lindsay.”

He nodded again. “Thank you, Miss Lindsay. Go straight to the door marked Security down the hallway. I’m certain Mr. Hudson will have left the information with the office, and they’ll process you.”

That sounded official and slightly daunting. Managing a shaky smile, I thanked him and turned in the direction he pointed. I found the security office easily enough and opened the door gingerly. When I stepped inside, a blond man in a dark uniform looked up from his bank of monitors and frowned at me.

I cleared my throat. “Bill sent me here.”

He looked impatient. “I see that. For what?”

“Mr. Hudson is expecting me. I’m the new nanny, I guess.”

He arched a brow. “You guess?”

I shrugged. “I think it’s a done deal, but um… maybe it’s an interview.”

He slid his chair to reach a computer and typed for a moment. “Nope, looks like you got the job. Here you are. Mr. Hudson has requested the full-access package f

or you. Let’s get you set up. ID?”

He waved me over, and I spent the next few minutes obeying his instructions. He took a picture, recorded information about me, and finished up by having me place my hand on a panel. “What is this?”

“It’s taking a biometric print of your hand to allow you easy access through security checkpoints.”

Hesitantly, I pressed my palm fully against the black panel. “Will it hurt?”

“Nope.” He pressed a button on the computer.

With a brief flash of light that reminded me of the scanner on my computer at home, it zipped down the length of my palm. No pain.

“All set.”

I lifted my hand and had barely done so when he held out a plastic badge to me. I looked down at my picture, which wasn’t half as terrible as the one on my school ID card. My name was printed there, along with Mr. Hudson’s address and apartment number, and the designation of “Staff.”