Page 91 of One Sweet Lie
“Congratulations.” I closed my laptop. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”
“Where’s Miss Hawthorne?”
“Probably preying on her next set of victims.”
“So, she’s running late?”
“No,” I said. “I fired her last night.”
“That joke wasn’t funny the first time…”
“It’sfor realthis time,” I said. “She’s done here.”
“But I thought we agreed she was the best.”
“Regardless of how you feel about my decision—” I raised a hand, motioning for her to let me finish. “Miss Hawthorne will never be allowed to come anywhere near you or the twins ever again.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a goddamn liar.” I couldn’t filter the harshness from my voice. “She was never a real nanny. She’s been cosplaying as one this entire time.”
“Sheseemedlike a real nanny…”
“She had a CPR certification, and that’s it.” I still couldn’t believe it. “She’d have no idea how to handle things in an actual emergency, and you and the twins were her very first family.”
She set a cupcake on my desk. Then she slumped into the chair.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you say goodbye to her, Olivia,” I said. “But I can’t afford to have justanyonearound you and the twins, and I’ll do my best to make sure the next nanny is better for all of us. She won’t tell a colossal lie like Harlow.”
She let out a long sigh, and I braced myself for a tantrum.
“I hate you, Uncle Brooks,” in three, two…
“Was her lie that terrible?” she asked.
“She told more than one,” I said. “But yes. The main lie was.”
She stared straight ahead for several moments, then pulled out her phone and tapped the screen.
“If she’s never coming back, then you and I have to make some crucial adjustments as soon as possible.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one, I’m sending you a link to a video, because you’ll need to learn how to do a good French crown braid as soon as possible,” she said. “I can start it off, but you’ll need to finish it from the halfway mark.”
“Two, you’ll also need to accompany me to a few monthly Broadway shows, and stay after so we can do meet-and-greets with the cast. Not to mention picking me up from school early at least once a week so we can try whatever new pop-up bakery uses the empty bookstore in Times Square.”
“Harlow did all that with you?”
“Yes, she was really amazing.” She smiled, but she must’ve noticed the look on my face, because she slowly let it slip.
“I can do those things with you, Olivia,” I said. “What else?”
“You have to treat me to a Central Park Frappuccino every Sunday morning, so we can catch up on my weekly tea.” She paused. “Oh, and you need to leave Wednesday evenings open for me in our kitchen, so I can try to remake whatever Chef Wolfson bakes for dessert that week. Deal?”
“Deal.”
FORTY-FIVE (B)