a writer needs help with her family. seeks nanny, is the nanny up to the job. we shall see.
Ingrid entered our lives shortly after I sent out this ad to my best friend Janis.
Convalescing author seeks not-quite-as-evil twin; must be willing to replace her in almost every aspect of daily duties. Psychic abilities are an asset. Position commences immediately.
But instead of feedback, she sent her niece, Ingrid. We chatted over espressos in my kitchen.
“So, what did Jan say to convince you to come to Vancouver?”
“An experience I’d never forget.” She blinked.
“And,” she paused, looked over her shoulder, “And she didn’t want you to jump off a bridge.” She whispered.
“Jesus! She is so literal.” I sighed, “I said I felt like I could jump off a bridge. Doesn’t everyone?” I finished my cup. “And now you’re here...Did she tell you about the boys?”
“Angus, seventeen, periodically in school, and Quinn, five, is obsessed with bodies.”
If I introduced Quinn first he would likely be inappropriately affectionate—too risky. “You can meet Angus—he’s downstairs, but should be up by now.” I waited.
In two minutes she returned, headed to the stove and began making more coffee. “You like milk?”
“Sure... You met Angus?”
“Latte, or espresso?”
“So, you met him.”
“Bitter.” I answered.
“The woman? She lives here too?”
“Never mind.” She cranked steam into the milk.
“Better make it a double.”
“I already have.”