Page 12 of The Nanny Contract
“Only three acres,” Betsy replied, as if it were nothing at all.
“Mother,” Logan said. “I have less than zero experience with gardening. An acre alone is larger than a high school football field. You think I’m capable of restoring a garden the size of three football fields?”
“No,” Betsy said, matter-of-factly. “But together with Henry, I know you’re capable of it. Besides, I’ve lined up a professional horticulturist to help plan. You just need to execute.”
Oh good, I thought.At least they’ll have help from a professional.
Then again, I expected nothing less from a woman as wealthy as Betsy. After all, she probably wanted the garden to be stunning for all the galas and soirees she was known for hosting.
“Additionally,” she said, “I’d like for you both to add personal touches to the garden. Incorporate elements that’ll reflect both your personalities. At the center of the garden, I’d like there to be a family tree sculpture. A striking iron tree sculpture—each iron branch adorned with a plaque or ornament for each family member. Even Veronica.”
“Hey!” Veronica exclaimed.
Betsy frowned at her. “Veronica, dear, I’m only teasing,” she said with fake sincerity. “Your name will, of course, go on the smallest branch. I imagine somewhere near the bottom. Perhaps by the roots. Symbolic, really.”
Muffled laughter filled the room from the other family members as Veronica’s face flushed.
Betsy clapped her hands. “Next challenge!”
The room fell silent again.
Betsy glanced at me. “Casey, I just realized I haven’t introduced everyone.”
She gestured out towards the other family members as if they were her gallery.
First, she pointed out a well-dressed man in his thirties. He had a laid-back style infused with quiet wealth. “This is my son Hunter.”
Next, she gestured toward another sharp-dressed gentleman in his thirties, this time with more of a city-slicker professional style, touched with a hint of Charleston southern flair. “This is my nephew, Dean, Logan’s cousin.”
She pointed at a woman in her sixties seated in the front row, immaculately dressed like a first lady of an important country. “This is my sister, Mildred.”
Next Betsy gestured toward Veronica. “And we’ve already spent enough time talking about Veronica.”
“Pleasure to meet you all,” I said to the room, trying my best to sound confident.
Hunter and Dean both offered a pleasant hello, but no one else in the room spoke.
Their gazes ranged from curiosity to outright indifference.
Tough crowd.
Logan’s deep voice cut through the silence with authority. “Listen everyone, Casey has become a valuable asset to our family, so please treat him accordingly.”
The room went still which took me by surprise. His words obviously carried more weight than I’d expected.
His tone wasn’t just polite. It was firm. It was as if he was staking his claim—in a way that left no room for argument.
Suddenly, my pulse quickened. Presumably a reaction to his kind words.
I hoped.
He was a man who carried himself with such reserve—the only way to interpret an act like this was that he cared. About me.
I wasn’t sure if he could hear me over the murmurs of the room, but I said, “Thank you.”
Then, his gaze flickered toward me. Our eyes met.
If I weren’t mistaken, I thought I could see a small, almost imperceptible smile forming at the corner of his lips.