Page 40 of The Nanny Contract
Finally, I heard the sounds of clinking dishes coming from the dining room. I braced myself for what I was about to experience. I had hoped that by the time I arrived, they’d be completely finished with their conversation. Conflict over, just like that. I could go back to being the nanny and things could go back to normal.
But as I turned the corner into the dining room, I knew that wasn’t likely.
And there they were.
Betsy sat in her chair like royalty, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips. Logan stood next to her, his arms crossed, radiating calm control with a protective edge.
Across from them were Helen and Robert, seated at the table.
Helen’s nails were digging into the armrest, her lips pressed so tightly they were nearly white.
Robert’s jaw was clenched, and he glared at Betsy but said nothing.
I lingered in the doorway, hesitating because I felt like an intruder walking onto a battlefield.
“Oh, Casey,” Betsy said, gesturing toward the chair beside her, “come and sit. We’re all just sitting here discussing… morals.”
Robert’s face was furious, and his hands were balled into clenched fists. “This is outrageous, Betsy. You think you can plaster slander all over the highway and just get away with it?”
Betsy leaned back in her chair. “Slander, Robert, is when it’s untrue—everything up there is a simple reminder of how much we value honesty in the Westbrook family.”
“Honesty?” Robert asked with a scoff. “If you want to talk honestly, let’s talk about how you ripped off the Ashford family a few decades ago and stole millions from them. How’s that for morality?”
Betsy shook her head, defiant. “We won our fair share of Harborstone Gallery in a court victory. A judge approved it.”
“A judge you practically own!” Robert fired back.
Betsy glared at him. “The entire case was made public for anyone to research. The Westbrooks won fair and square. We’ve never stolen a thing in our lives.”
“Tell that to the Ashford family!” Helen finally chimed in.
“I have,” Betsy said, her voice steady.
I watched Betsy with awe. Her words were pointed and cutting but she never lost her cool.
Helen bristled but clearly was trying to keep her composure. “Look Betsy, we came here to discuss what’s best for Henry, not to be utterly humiliated.”
She turned to Logan. “Logan, surely you can see that your mother’s behavior is inappropriate.”
Logan glanced at his smiling mother before returning his focus to the Mercers. “What’s best for Henry is a life of stability. And if you had such good intentions, maybe you wouldn’t be so disturbed by a little honesty.”
“Honesty?” Helen asked, her mouth agape. “This isn’t honest—it’s slander! None of these claims are true.”
Betsy leaned forward and stared with a calm intensity that silenced the room. She folded her hands neatly on the table, a faint smile pulling at her lips, but it was anything but warm.
Her tone was measured but still polite—which made it all the more terrifying. “Well, Helen, Robert… you’ve expressed yourconcerns about Henry’s home life. Now I’m going to express my concerns.”
Robert looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Helen’s face was tight but starting to crack, her carefully applied makeup failing to hide her discomfort.
“The thing is,” Betsy started, “I happen to believe that honesty and transparency are the foundations of a strong home. And I believe that actions speak louder than words. For example…”
Betsy paused theatrically before reaching out and grabbing a folder she’d neatly placed on the table earlier. The kind of folder that could only spell doom.
“Robert’s little adventure a few nights ago,” Betsy said, nodding at Robert.
Helen snapped her head toward her husband. “Adventure?”
Betsy was unrelenting. “Yes, his adventure. Starting with driving under the influence after leaving a bar. But that’s not all, is it, Robert?”