Page 15 of The Nanny Contract

But I knew Cadillacs had a reputation for being comfortable and reliable, and that was all that mattered.

Henry looked absolutely thrilled as I approached.

Casey had heard the commotion and appeared as well, smiling as he took in the site of the car.

I found myself wondering if our lifestyle was ostentatious to Casey. I knew the going rate for a nanny, and I knew he wasn’t a wealthy man. Part of me wondered if he judged me—judged us—just a bit.

Henry noticed Casey, obviously wanting his approval. “Casey, what do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful car,” Casey said, walking over to stand next to me.

As Betsy and Henry hopped back inside to talk about the high-tech screen, Casey tapped my shoulder.

He lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s a beautiful car,” he said, his tone careful. “But…,” he continued cautiously, “it’s a lot of power for someone Henry’s age, don’t you think?”

“Power?” I asked, chuckling.

Maybe Casey wasn’t familiar with the car brand.

“It’s a grandpa car,” I added. “It’s certainly no Mustang.”

Casey frowned as if he didn’t believe me. “I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but I have an interest in cars as a hobby. Let me tell you, this car is almost twice as fast as a Mustang.”

I cleared my throat. “What do you mean?”

“This is a special edition Cadillac Blackwing V-Series. It has six-hundred horsepower. A Mustang only has three-hundred. This Cadillac can really fly.”

I hesitated for a moment before glancing over at Henry and Betsy. I couldn’t tell which of them was happier because they were both positively beaming.

To me, a person with no interest in cars, it looked like a boring, comfortable sedan.

Casey pointed to the badge on the back of the car which had the wordBlackwingemblazoned on the car next to a racing flag symbol.

Great, I thought.What am I supposed to do here?

If I took the car away, I’d be the worst dad ever.

And ever since Henry’s mother passed, I had a hard time telling him no.

Casey looked at me, silence filling the air as he awaited my response.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” I said.

Casey didn’t say anything.

Henry and Betsy hopped out of the car. Henry took out his phone and recorded a video around the car, presumably to post it online.

My thoughts drifted away to my first car on my sixteenth birthday. Mother had given me my dad’s used Buick—it was certainly no race car.

But I knew that for Henry this was more than just a vehicle. It was his first taste of real freedom. I couldn’t take that away from him.

Although I was a little worried about what Casey had said.

Twice as fast.

That didn’t sound good.

Nine o’clock at night was the perfect time for me to steal a moment to myself.