The Nanny's Double Trouble

“Don’t go overboard looking on the bright side there, Daniel.” She glanced through the open door to her room and blew out her cheeks with a weary breath. “Sadly enough, though, you’re right. The clock by my bed says it’s almost five. Tonight is officially over.”

“Let’s hope we get lucky and they both sleep till, say, eight.”

“As if.” She laughed, a sort of whisper-laugh to go with their low, careful whisper of a conversation. The low light from the wall sconces struck red glints in her brown hair, and she looked sweet as a farm girl, barefoot in those flannel pajamas that were printed with ladybugs.

He thought of Grace suddenly, knew a stab of annoyance that kind of soured the companionable moment between him and Keely—and there it was again, that word: companionable. He’d felt companionable with his dead wife’s cousin twice in one night, and he didn’t know whether to feel good about that or not.

“What?” Keely asked. “Just say it.”

He went ahead and admitted what was bugging him. “Grace. She’s got one of the baby monitors in her room, so she had to hear what was happening. But she didn’t even come check to see if we needed her.”

“Yeah, she did. She came in the kids’ room before you. I knew she’d been out late and could use a little sleep, so I said I could handle it and sent her back to bed.”

He hung his head. “Go ahead. Say it. I’m a crap brother.”

Maisey chose that moment to get comfortable. She yawned hugely, stretched out on the floor and lowered her head to her paws with a soft doggy sigh.

Keely said, “You love Grace. She loves you. Ten years from now, you’ll wonder what you used to fight about.”

“Uh-uh. I’ll remember.”

“Maybe. But you’ll be totally over it.” Would he? He hoped so. She said, “When I was little, living with the band on my mother’s purple bus, I used to dream of a real house like this one, dream of having sisters and brothers. Family is hard, Daniel. But it’s worth it. And I think you know that it is.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re right.”

Family was everything. But that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about totally non-family-related things. Partying till dawn, maybe. A game of poker that went on till all hours, with a keg on tap and all the guys smoking stinky cigars, telling politically incorrect jokes. A one-night stand with a gorgeous woman he’d never met before and would never see again, a woman who only wanted to use him for hot sex.

Now there was a big as if. He’d been with one woman in his life and was perfectly happy about that—until the past few years anyway. He just wasn’t the kind of guy who went to bed with women he hardly knew. The one time he’d tried that, six months ago, he’d realized at the last possible moment that sex with a stranger just wasn’t for him. His sudden change of heart had not endeared him to the lady in question.

And Keely was watching him again, a hint of a smile on her full mouth.

“I’m going to work on thinking positive,” he promised her, because she did have a point about his negative attitude.

She gave a whisper-chuckle. “Anything is possible.”

He clicked his tongue at Maisey and she dragged herself up on her stubby legs again. “Night, Keely.” He turned for his room at the end of the hall.

“Night, Daniel,” she whispered after him.

* * *

When Keely woke up it was ten after eight Sunday morning and no one was crying. She put on her vintage chenille robe over her pajamas and looked across the hall.

Both cribs were empty.

Downstairs in the kitchen, she found two smiling cherubs eating cut-up pancakes off their high chair trays and both Daniel and Grace at the breakfast table, neither one scowling.

Yes. Life was good on this beautiful, foggy-as-usual Sunday morning in Valentine Bay. She poured herself coffee.

Grace said, “I’m here till two, Keely, so if you need to run errands, go for it.”

“Keewee!” crowed Jake, pounding on his tray.

Keely stepped over and kissed his gooey cheek.

“Kiss, kiss, Keewee!” Frannie pounded her tray, too, and smacked her rosebud lips.

Keely kissed her as well, and then returned to the stove where a stack of pancakes waited. She put a couple of them on a plate. “Thanks, Grace. I’ll run by Sand & Sea and stop in to check on Aunt Gretchen.”

* * *

The gallery opened daily at eleven. Keely arrived at nine thirty. Her top clerk, Amanda, promoted temporarily to manager, joined her five minutes later. They went through the books and discussed the schedule. Sand & Sea was 3500 square feet of exhibit space on Manzanita Avenue, in the heart of Valentine Bay’s downtown historic district. With a focus on Oregon artists, Keely offered contemporary work in just about every form imaginable, from painting to printmaking, sculpture to woodworking. She displayed and sold artisan jewelry, furniture, textiles and photography.

Sand & Sea also hosted receptions and special events. Every month or so, she featured an individual artist or a group of artists in a themed joint show. The first Friday in April, she would hold an opening for a new group show with several top Pacific Northwest artists working in various mediums on the theme of the ever-changing sea. Everything was on schedule for that one so far. Amanda was knowledgeable, organized and more than competent, and they had almost three weeks until the opening. Keely needed to find help with Frannie and Jake for the opening-night reception party and the few days before it. But that should be doable, one way or another.

Feeling confident that Sand & Sea wouldn’t suffer while she focused on Daniel’s twins, she left the gallery at eleven thirty to check in on her aunt.

Gretchen still lived in the house she’d shared with her husband, the house where she’d raised her precious only child, Lillie. Keely considered the four-bedroom craftsman-style bungalow her childhood home, too.

Yes, she’d spent most of her growing-up years living on the tour bus. But now and then, Ingrid’s career would get a boost and the tour schedule would get crazy. Those were the times that Ingrid took Keely to Valentine Bay to live temporarily with Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Cletus. Keely loved when that happened. She was constantly begging her mother to let her live with the Snows full-time.

When Keely was fifteen, Ingrid finally gave in. Keely moved in with her cousin. At last, she got the settled-down life she’d always dreamed of in the seaside town she considered her true home.

Keely knocked on the green front door, but only to be considerate. She had a key and she used it, sticking her head in the door, calling, “It’s just me! Don’t get up!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Gretchen called back.

Something smelled wonderful. Keely followed her nose to the back of the house. She found her aunt balanced on her good foot, one hand braced on the counter, as she pulled a tray of cookies from the oven.

Keely waited until Gretchen had set the tray on top of the stove and shut the oven door to scold, “You’re not supposed to be on that foot.”

“Sweetheart!” Gretchen turned and hopped toward her.

“You are impossible.” Keely caught her and hugged her, breathing in the familiar, beloved scents of vanilla and melted butter. Her aunt not only always smelled delicious, she was still pretty in a comfortable, homey sort of way, with smooth, pale skin and carefully styled hair she still had professionally colored to the exact Nordic blond it used to be when she was young.

Gretchen laughed. “You know you need cookies.”

Keely grabbed a chair from the table and spun it around. “Here. Sit.”

“Oh, don’t fuss.” Gretchen held on to Keely for balance as she lowered herself into the chair.

Keely tried to look stern. “You will stay in that chair. I mean it.”

Gretchen swept out a plump arm in the direction of the big mixing bowl on the counter. “I have two more cookie sheets to fill.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll do it.” She grabbed another chair and positioned it so that Gretchen could put her foot up. “There. Want coffee?”

“Please—and where are my babies?”