Jessie & Elizabeth (abandoned)

9. Scaredy-Cats

A delicious smell rose from the apple pie on the table. Never before had I seen one so mouth-watering, with a crisscross crispy golden crust. Elizabeth and Camille had worked on it the whole morning, together in the kitchen, while the other two and I had been wrapping presents in Manon's bedroom. When I went for a cup of tea and found mother and daughter laughing their heads off about who knows what, I must've stood there gaping at them for minutes before they spotted me.

The moment Elizabeth had registered me, she stopped, acting like it'd never happened and she'd actually been frowning all the time.

It'd confused the shit out of me.

"I thought you couldn't cook," I'd said, noticing that there weren't any instructions lying around, just a bag of flour and sugar, raisins, a carton of eggs, apple pieces and peels, and all sorts of spices: cinnamon and clove and stuff I didn't recognize.

She'd looked around like she hadn't noticed she was making a pie from scratch and cleared her throat. "Yes, that's right. But this is my mom's recipe; I know it by heart." And she'd turned to Camille, telling her to add some more cinnamon.

Right now, she was frowning again, sitting on the patio sofa with Ari by her side, talking earnestly to the other guests around her. This morning, I'd figured I was going to have to make myself scarce — it was Camille's birthday, after all, and I was only the nanny — until Ari had come running into my bedroom, asking what was taking so long and saying they were all waiting for me. A warm and fluffy feeling had settled at the bottom of my stomach, and it hadn't left since.

I gulped down another forkful of apple pie. This was so far from the sugary mush I was used to — apparently unfrozen and microwaved supermarket pie was incomparable to the real thing. And to think I could've gone on living my life, declining all apple pies ever offered to me, never discovering what a treat it could be. Sensing someone watching me, I looked up to find the girls' grandmother staring at me with her mouth contracting like she'd just bitten into a lemon. Oops. Looks like I was going to have to take smaller bites.

Mrs. Miller still hadn't looked away, and it dawned on me that she was actually trying to talk to me. Her hair was dyed a rich auburn, though her skin was stretched and wrinkly, making it impossible to guess her age. She cleared her throat. "I thought the nannies from your agency were required to wear a uniform."

My mouth was still full, preventing me from answering. I had no idea what to say to her anyway; fancy people like her had always made me nervous. Especially when they apparently disapproved of my rainbow top and dungarees.

"If you've finished with that pie," she said then, in a tone that made it clear I wasn't allowed to eat even a crumb more, "please collect my son's present from the car. It's heavy." She held out her wrinkled hand, the key to her Audi swinging from side to side.

I swallowed the last bit and took the keys. A little baffled, I got up from where I sat and set off for the driveway, the warm, fuzzy feeling disappearing with a pop. Was this what I was here for? Collecting gifts, doing the dishes later? Sure, I'd helped miss Schneider make drinks and carry plates, but even Elizabeth and the kids had done that. This was the first time since I'd started to work here that I felt like a servant.

Of course, the trunk of the gleaming silver car opened automatically. There, taking up all the space, sat a rectangular box the size of a dog house, wrapped in pink paper with kittens, a card stuck to the top. From dad to my darling Camille, it said. Mm. Wonder if he picked it out himself, all the way from France. With a sigh, I placed my hands on the sides and tried to lift it.

It wouldn't budge.

I wrapped my arms around the back, attempting to drag it towards me. It didn't move. Not one single inch. Seemed like heavy had been an understatement. How was I supposed to carry this all the way to the backyard with my limping leg?