Confessions of a Teen Nanny Page 9

  “No,” Liz said, “He hasn’t called me. Is that weird? Should I think that’s weird? I was thinking about calling him…but then I think no—right?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Listen, I have to go. The bell’s ringing. I have class. Don’t worry. Brian’s probably under the covers at home, sick or something. Later!” She hung up.

  Adrienne smiled. Liz was probably right. Brian’s probably fine. It’s nothing to stress about.

  At the end of the day, Brian finally showed up at school, sliding into his seat in English class between Adrienne and Tamara.

  “Where have you been?” Adrienne whispered to him. “I was worried about you.” She slid him Tamara’s notes.

  “You’ll never believe where I was. I was on my way to school, and I get this call from Cameron.”

  Adrienne stopped smiling. Friday night at Khmer, she had noticed that Cameron was too friendly, but she had decided not to make a big deal about it. She trusted Brian, but this was way different. Cam should know better—calling another girl’s boyfriend was not done.

  “And…,” Adrienne said.

  “Yeah, and?” Tamara said, leaning forward.

  “So, Cam calls, and says she’s cutting school today because her dad got her into a recording studio in Midtown to watch P. Diddy lay down the final tracks for his album.”

  “So?” Adrienne said. “Cam can afford to skip school. She doesn’t need the grades. We do.”

  “That’s right,” Tamara said. “But P. Diddy? That is so cool!”

  “I know it!” he said sheepishly. “I couldn’t pass it up, so Cam and I went. It was AMAZING. We met Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Cam knew everybody. It was like her party! And they had all this food, and everyone was hanging out and dancing, and I just had to stay.”

  “Jay-Z?” Tamara said. “Really?”

  “Really,” Brian said.

  “Well,” Adrienne said. She knew her voice sounded strange—too high-pitched. “I’m glad that you had such an amazing time.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Brian of all people—her down-to-earth boyfriend—was dazzled by the money, caught up in the world of the megarich. The idea of it almost made her laugh, until the reality of what was happening hit her: Brian wasn’t dazzled by the money. Brian was dazzled by Cameron.

  Was Cameron trying to steal her boyfriend?

  Liz was almost finished with school on Thursday, when her phone rang. Adrienne, I bet. I wonder what’s happening with Brian.

  Luckily, Liz was in art class and the teacher was pretty laid back. She walked over to the sink and pretended to wash her paintbrush while quietly answering her phone.

  “Elizabeth?” Dr. M-C boomed. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at school, Dr. Markham-Collins. I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

  “No, Elizabeth, I need you right now. You’ll see why when you get here. Please hurry.” She hung up.

  I am so busted, Liz thought. I bet she noticed the missing shawl. Well, at least I only have gym left—I can cut that easily. Why did I take that stupid shawl?

  The service elevator opened into Dr. M-C’s kitchen. The first sound that greeted Liz was the buzz of an electric saw and hammering. Heather was sitting in a chair in the kitchen with her hands over her ears, and David was lying on the floor, moaning.

  “Liz, make them stop! All the noise is shattering my nerves!” Heather whined.

  “David, get up off the floor! What’s going on?”

  “They are tearing things up! For the magazine,” David said. “Ow, my stomach hurts from your little cakes.”

  “My what?” Liz asked.

  “You got a package, and David opened it. I hid it so he wouldn’t get in trouble with Mommy,” Heather said.

  “Where is it?” Liz asked.

  Heather went to a cabinet and pulled out a large white box. A card was attached: Can’t stop thinking about you. I thought a dozen roses would be lame. Parker

  Liz smiled and opened the box. Inside were what appeared to be the remains of a dozen cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery. “Oh, no,” Liz said. “David, you didn’t eat all of these, did you?”

  “Mommy picked us up from school early. She said she might need us for pictures, and then she said we couldn’t leave the kitchen. There was no lunch, only soy nuggets. The cupcakes came. They smelled good….”

  “I had one,” Heather said. “Only one! I was good.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Liz said. I sure hope he doesn’t puke, she thought as David clutched his stomach. “Listen,” she said, “let’s get in there and see what’s going on.”

  Entering what had once been the dining room, Liz looked around in horror.

  The ceiling was gone. The walls between the dining room and the library had been torn down and replaced by support columns. The hall had been completely destroyed. The mirrors that had formerly hidden Dr. Markham-Collins’s office had been torn down. Her private office was revealed to be a pretty small and uninteresting place.

  “Liz!” Dr. M-C hollered over the roar of power saws. “Can you believe it? Two hours, and the whole apartment reduced to a shambles!” She introduced a middle-aged woman in a Jil Sander suit and high heels. “This is Darby DuPlane, my new interior designer. Darby, this is my nanny, Liz.”

  Thank God this isn’t about the shawl, Liz thought.

  “Liz, come on over,” Darby said. “I want to show you what we’re doing.” Darby grabbed Liz around the shoulders, pulling Heather and David from her hands. The children stood, alone and nervous, in the wreckage that had been their home.

  “I went through the house with a marketing analyst. The apartment was too cold. Too impersonal. Not child-friendly. It was just not the home of a woman who needs to be perceived as a quote GREAT MOM.” Darby made quotation gestures with her fingers. “So…out with the Donghia and pale gray ‘don’t touch me, please’ suede, and contemporary art, and in with…” She pulled a sheet off an easel, revealing renderings of what the new interior of the apartment would look like.

  Liz knew that she knew nothing about interior design, but she thought Darby DuPlane’s plan, well, kind of sucked.

  The apartment looked like it was going to be a Disney version of the lobby of a big hotel. Huge, over-upholstered sofas in vibrant chintzes, potted palms, and illustrations from famous children’s books all over the walls.

  “This apartment will say, ‘I’m accessible. I love kids. I have no secrets,’” Darby explained.

  This apartment will say, “I have no taste at all,” Liz thought. What is she thinking?

  “Darby bought the illustrations from The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham,” Dr. M-C added. “It will be amazing.”

  “And no hiding behind mirrors,” Darby said, wagging her finger at Dr. M-C.

  “No,” Dr. M-C agreed. “So hostile.”

  “Well, it looks incredible,” Liz said. “Why don’t I go back into the kitchen with the kids?” she suggested as a hunk of plaster crashed to the floor, showering them all with dust.

  Heather began to wheeze.

  “Good idea. Take them back to the kitchen,” Dr. Markham-Collins said, never even acknowledging her own children.

  “Mayra, get them out of the apartment!” Darby said. “Children need some air!”

  “Liz, could you?” Dr. Markham-Collins asked.

  “Sure thing,” Liz said.

  “Oh. And don’t touch anything in the kitchen, and I mean anything. It’s photo-ready, and it needs to be shot for New York magazine this weekend. And by that, I mean yesterday, if you know what I mean!” She and Darby laughed as they left the room.

  “I’m scared,” Heather said, picking at her hair.

  “My stomach hurts,” David said for the thirtieth time.

  “I totally understand.” Liz peered quizzically at Heather. “Heather, why are you pulling at your hair?”

  “Something is stuck in it. Like a rubber band. Or something.”

  “Did you put a rubber band in
your hair?” Liz asked.

  “No,” Heather said.

  “Let me see.” Liz pulled Heather’s head toward her.

  Liz quickly discovered that the thing in Heather’s hair was gum.

  “Heather, were you chewing gum today?” Liz asked.

  “No!” Heather screamed, quickly becoming hysterical. “David threw gum at me at school. He did it! HE DID IT!”

  The two children quickly became screaming, crying, fighting messes, rolling around on the floor.

  “Stop it!” Liz yelled, totally losing her cool. “Heather, get off your brother! David, I am telling you right now that we need a serious, major time-out!”

  “We can’t have a time-out,” Heather said. “Our rooms are gone.”

  Liz reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. There was only one person in the world who could help.

  Liz called her mother.

  “Hi, honey! How’s your day?”

  “Later, Mom, later. I have an eight-year-old with gum in her hair, and a five-year-old who has eaten close to a dozen cupcakes. What should I do?”

  There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone.

  Liz was furious. Her mother was laughing at her!

  “I’m sorry! It’s just funny…”

  Yeah. Funny, she thought.

  “Mom!” Liz could hear herself start to whine.

  “I’m sorry. Okay. Listen. The gum. Get some peanut butter and rub it in. The peanut oil loosens the gum. As for the cupcake kid…” Mrs. Braun began to giggle again.

  Liz waited. This was so demeaning.

  “Sorry. Now you know what it’s like for me. Well, he’ll either feel better, or he’ll throw up. There’s nothing you can do. It sounds absolutely dreadful, sweetheart. Do you want me to stay on the line while you try the peanut butter?”

  “No, Mom, it’s okay. I think I’ve got it. Thanks.” Liz hung up.

  Peanut butter.

  Liz searched the kitchen. Finally she found peanut butter. Unfortunately, it was the organic kind.

  “Let’s give this a shot, Heather,” Liz said kindly, working the peanut butter into the tangle and massaging it gently.

  “That stinks!” Heather wailed. “And it hurts!”

  “The gum will come out. I promise!” Liz insisted, glancing at the green-looking David.

  “It won’t!” Heather wailed. “You’ll have to shave me bald!”

  Liz glanced back at David, who was rolling on the floor. She prayed he wouldn’t throw up in the photo-ready kitchen of Ms. Darby DuPlane.

  Liz rubbed Heather’s hair. The peanut butter wasn’t working. The gum was stuck. Suddenly the door to the kitchen opened. Liz whirled around, covered in peanut butter, cupcake crumbs, and plaster dust.

  “Well, you’re a mess,” said a familiar voice. “Is this how you look during the day?”

  It was Parker. Parker!!

  Could this day get worse? Liz asked herself.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Is there anywhere I can hide?

  Smiling his killer smile, Parker walked closer. “I came to see if you got my cupcakes,” he said. “Cameron said you were down here, and I thought I’d visit. I wanted to see you again before I took off.”

  Cameron! Liz sighed. Of course, it wouldn’t occur to her that I’m working!

  “I’m covered in peanut butter,” Liz said helplessly, for lack of anything better to say.

  “I love peanut butter,” Parker said with a grin.

  “Who is he?” Heather demanded.

  “Now I’m really going to be sick,” David said, pressing his face against the cool tile floor of the kitchen.

  “Wait,” Liz said. “Take off for where?”

  Parker smiled. “This weekend is when we all open our houses in Palm Beach. No one will be in New York this weekend. The Warners, the von Fallschirms, my family. We all take off tonight.” He grinned. “Can we go out next week? Just you and me?”

  “Sure,” Liz said, and grinned.

  Parker smiled again. “You are cute.”

  Despite Heather’s whining and moaning, the gum miraculously loosened, and Heather cheered up. “I won’t have to be bald?” she asked.

  “No, Heather, you won’t have to be bald,” Liz said.

  Just then, Dr. Markham-Collins entered the kitchen with Darby, her new evil sidekick. “Who’s going to be bald?” she asked, confused. “Elizabeth! Heather looks like a sandwich. What on earth is going on?” Walking farther into the kitchen, she noticed Parker. “And who are you?” she asked. “Again, Elizabeth, these constant unapproved guests! What can I say…” She raised her hands in a gesture of despair.

  “Dr. Markham-Collins, what a pleasure to finally meet you,” Parker said, turning on his megawatt smile and his charm. “I’m Parker Devlin, Reed and Lauren Devlin’s son.”

  Dr. Markham-Collins became a mass of social-climbing jelly. “Oh, Parker, how lovely to meet you!” she trilled. “Your father is a captain of industry, so important, such a philanthropist. Such a leader.” She smiled. “What are you doing here?” she asked, seeming confused. She glanced around the apartment as if she was expecting Cameron or Mimi to be with the well-connected Parker.

  “Well, Liz…whom I’m dating,” he said, looking at Liz with a shy little glance, “has told me how great your kids are, and I would love to take them all to the museum. You obviously need a little space right now. Why don’t I take them all out for a couple of hours, give them something to eat in the patron’s dining room, and get everyone out of your hair?”

  “You are dating Liz?” Dr. Markham-Collins asked incredulously. Then she suddenly caught herself. “Parker,” she continued, “you are, I think, an angel sent to me and my children. And Liz is lucky. Thank you so much. Please tell your father that—”

  Before Liz knew it, in a flurry of thanks, Parker had whisked all of them into the waiting elevator and out of the building.

  The four of them trudged along Fifth Avenue in silence, when suddenly, and for the first time in Liz’s memory, Heather Markham-Collins began to laugh.

  “I’m sorry!” she said, trying to stop. “Mommy was so funny! ‘Your father is a captain!’” she said, in perfect imitation of her mother. Her giggles grew into a huge, aching belly laugh. A laugh so infectious, it made David laugh, too. Before they both knew it, Parker and Liz were laughing, and the four of them walked into the Metropolitan Museum of Art covered with dust and laughing themselves silly.

  Parker was an amazing guide.

  The Metropolitan was like a playground. He showed Heather the rooms of French furniture that had belonged to princesses and queens, and he took David to see the Greek and Roman warriors and the Hall of Armor. They ran through the Costume Institute, and the halls of ancient Chinese art, stopping in Astor Court to rest for a bit amid the gurgling of the pool where the golden fish made kissing faces at them.

  Finally, they made their way into the Egyptian rooms and the Temple of Dendur.

  Standing in front of the Temple—a whole building removed from Egypt and rebuilt inside the Met—Liz looked at Parker. He’s amazing, she thought. And he really likes me.

  At that moment, Parker took her in his arms and kissed her. This time, she kissed him hard. His lips were strong and soft at the same time, and his hands pulled her closer to him.

  The setting sun flooded the galleries, and a feeling of warmth ran through Liz’s body, thrilling her from her head to her feet—her feet which suddenly felt too warm and too wet.

  Liz broke away and looked down. She was standing in a puddle of what had once been a dozen cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery.

  “I told you I felt sick,” David said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  bomb ditch

  The next afternoon, up in the penthouse at 841 Fifth Avenue, Adrienne was met with the most amazing spectacle: The entire dining room and front hallway were filled with hundreds of suitcases and trunks labeled with colored identification tags. The place looked like the
luggage terminal at Kennedy Airport. Tania, with a clipboard in her hands, was racing around the place, shouting out instructions in her exceptionally bizarre English.

  “What is all this?” Adrienne asked Tania, catching her by the arm.

  “Bomb Ditch,” Tania replied.

  “What?” Adrienne asked.

  Tania sighed, completely exasperated. “To Floridoo. Bomb Ditch, where Warners in estates.”

  Adrienne thought for a second, trying to pierce the enigma of Tania’s English. “Oh!” Adrienne called out. “Palm Beach in Florida!”

  “Is what I am say,” Tania replied. “Bomb Ditch. Very busy. You must to make Miss Emma pack.”

  “Thank God you’re here, Adriana!” Mrs. Warner called out. She entered the hall, preceeded by a cloud of her perfume and trailed by her personal assistant, a thin, nervous woman. Adrienne couldn’t remember this one’s name. The only thing Mrs. Warner went through faster than nannies were personal assistants.

  Taking a deep breath, Adrienne decided to stand up for herself. “Adrienne,” she said clearly. “My name is Adrienne.”

  “How terrible. You should change it. Adriana has a bit of chic to it. Now, where are your bags?”

  “My bags?” Adrienne asked, incredulous. Do we even speak the same language? she wondered.

  “Well, darling, you don’t think you can get through opening weekend in Palm Beach on one outfit, do you? I mean, I suppose you and Cameron could hit Worth Avenue and the Via Mizner, but the clothes there are so overpriced. Anyway, you don’t think that we could open the house without having someone to watch Emma, do you? She could drown in the pool or on the beach. Darling, she might even get lost in the house, for God’s sake.” With that, Mrs. Warner trailed out of the hall, throwing instructions into the air behind her like rice at a wedding. Her beleaguered personal assistant trailed behind her, taking notes.

  Emma wandered in, looking pale and lost. Catching sight of Adrienne, she ran up. “Are you really coming to Palm Beach?”

  “Well, no one told me I was supposed to, and I can’t. I have, um, plans this weekend,” Adrienne said to Emma. “Emma, you look upset. Is everything okay?”