Page 6 of Jane Deyre
“Please put her on the payroll,” says Edwina. “I’ve guaranteed her seven hundred fifty dollars a week. Along with bonuses and overtime. And it will include room and board.”
My breath hitches. I’m going to live in this glorious mansion? Under the same roof as Academy Award–winning actress Edwina Rochester? Does that mean I’m not going to have to return to the hellhole I’m residing in? Worry about paying my rent?
Ms. Fairfax furrows her brows. “That’s rather exorbitant... for an unknown.”
“I have a good feeling about her. It was meant to be that Jane was walking behind me today and saved our lives.”
She caresses the furry white cat, curled up on her lap. “Right, Pilote?”
The cat meows. I have the cat in my corner. I’m beginning to like Pilote.
My new boss wrinkles her nose, causing a sharp crease between her eyes. “Very well, Mrs. Rochester. And where exactly do you foresee Miss Deyre sleeping?”
Before Mrs. Rochester can answer, hysterical sobs pierce my ears. They sound like they’re coming from a child. My head turns in the direction of the archway.
Darting our way is a little girl who looks to be five or six, with flaxen braids that hang just below the smocking of her pink gingham dress. She’s truly beautiful except her face is bright red and marred with tears. In her tiny hands, she’s holding my hulking Smurfette headpiece.
Ms. Fairfax rolls her eyes. “Not yet another one of her meltdowns! Doesn’t this child do anything besides cry?”
“Auntie! The Smurfette is here and her head fell off!” wails the child. Beneath her tears, her accent sounds European, rather posh, calling Edwina “on-tee.”
“Child, put that revolting thing down,” scoffs Ms. Fairfax, making a disgusted face. “It’s likely riddled with germs and fleas. Better yet, toss it in the garbage where it belongs.”
“Um, huh, that’s part of my Smurfette costume,” I manage bravely.
The child’s chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. Still watering, they’re round as saucers. “You’re the Smurfette?”
“Um, uh... a pretend one. It’s just a costume... you know, like what you wear on Halloween.”
Though her sobs subside, the child still looks confused. “But Halloween’s not till later.”
Edwina puts out her cigar. “Adele, darling, please come over. I want to introduce you to my new friend... Jane Deyre. She’s going to be working here.”
The child takes hesitant steps in our direction. “Auntie, you made a rhyme!”
Lots of things rhyme with “Deyre.” Includingchère,which weirdly means dear in French.
The child’s expressive puppy-like eyes stay on me. I feel a connection to her.
“Come here, sweetie.” The child hedges closer to me. I brush away her tears with the back of my blue-gloved hand.
“Are you going to be my new nanny?” she asks.
Edwina takes another sip of her Cointreau and looks at Ms. Fairfax. “Alice, where are we on our nanny search?”
“Nowhere. The latest one quit yesterday.”
Adele folds her arms across her chest. “She was mean! I should have bit her!”
Ms. Fairfax shoots her a dirty look before returning her attention to Edwina. “No one can put up with this imp. Or understand her. That was our fifth hire. She lasted seventy-two hours... a record so far.”
Adele’s eyes don’t stray from me. “Je veux que la Smurfette soit ma nounou. Elle est gentille.”
Ms. Fairfax fires her another dirty look. “What on earth are you saying, child?”
I chime in. “She’s saying that she wants me to be her nanny.” I don’t translate the other half...because I’m nice.
While the insidious woman looks at me with disdain, Edwina beams. “How wonderful! You understand French. You speak it too?”