Page 16 of The Nanny Contract
Although, admittedly, with Henry’s recent independence, I had more and more alone time than I’d ever prepared for. Plenty of time to sit around and reflect on my personal life—something I’d tried to ignore since Gloria’s passing.
As I walked toward the kitchen to grab a snack, the sound of my mother’s voice jolted me from my daydream.
“You’re just in time for dessert!”
I entered the kitchen and saw Mother sitting at the small breakfast table, patiently waiting while Martin served her various desserts.
Approaching the table, I saw an assortment of cakes, pastries, and pies.
I could tell by the hint of a frown on Martin’s face that Mother had commanded him to make each of these from scratch on a whim.
“For you, sir?” he turned and asked with an almost rehearsed politeness.
“Oh, you must try one of each!” she said, grabbing my arm and ushering me to sit across from her. “There’s a rosewater pistachio cake, a sugared citrus cake, and my favorite, an Earl Grey lavender cake—it’s a light sponge cake infused with Earl Grey tea… and lavender! Frosted with honey buttercream.”
Martin sliced a piece of the Earl Grey cake immediately without hesitation, as if my mother’s words had been sufficient direction.
“Did you make these, Mother?” I asked.
I knew she hadn’t.
Martin sighed faintly enough for it to be barely audible.
Before I could enjoy my first bite, my phone rang.
Oh no, I thought.Please don’t be work.
I wasn’t on call for the day, but my heart still filled with dread at the sound of my phone ringing late at night. It was only ever one thing.
But tonight was different.
It was a number I didn’t recognize.
To my surprise—and horror—it wasn’t anyone from the hospital.
It was the police station downtown.
“Mr. Westbrook,” the officer said on the other end of the line, “this is Officer Adams from the Charleston Police Department. We have your son Henry here. You need to come down to the station.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was at the local precinct.
I’d never been to the police station in my life, and I certainly never dreamed I’d be there now.
And now, because of my overly rebellious son, I was going to be on a first-name basis with every officer in town. The entire city would hear about this eventually. The story would make the tabloids and local media papers the next day.
Henry sat in the waiting room at the station as Casey and I looked down at him.
The police officer next to us looked more annoyed than angry.
He sipped his coffee out of a flimsy paper cup and looked me in the eye. “We caught your son’s friend Matthew Elliot driving a black Cadillac, going a hundred and twenty miles an hour in a forty mile per hour zone.
Henry looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “I’m sorry, Dad. Matthew said he wanted to drive the new car, and he promised he wouldn’t go over the speed limit.”
Suddenly it dawned on me: Casey had been right all along.
Casey had only been trying to help. Maybe I should take his advice a little more seriously next time. He was obviously someone I could trust to have Henry’s best interest at heart.
I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back my frustration. “You’re not keeping that car,” I said as Henry looked down at his feet. “It’s too fast.”