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  “Hey, yourself!” Eliza’s cheerful greeting lifted Mara’s spirits immediately.

  “I’m so glad you called! Oh my God, you’ll never believe what just happened….” Before Eliza could say another word, Mara poured out the whole sob story, taking care to recount every horrid detail—except for her doubts that maybe David was the teensiest bit right about her not taking their job seriously enough. “So what do you think?” Mara asked as she finished up her story. “Do I win the award for worst start of the summer ever or what?” She tried to laugh at herself but couldn’t muster more than a half smile.

  “Actually, I think it’s fantastic!” Eliza chirped.

  “Um, excuse me? Did you hear what I just told you? I pretty much got dumped and fired at the same time!” Saying the word dumped made Mara feel less sad—and more angry. She took a bite of the crust of her pizza, tearing it with her teeth.

  “David didn’t dump you. He said he loved you, didn’t he? I bet he’s going to bring you back like ten thousand pounds of Perigord truffles from Paris.” Eliza’s voice was soothing. “And so what if you got fired? I have a job for you!”

  “A job?” Mara asked, the slightest bit of hope seeping into her voice. Eliza was really well connected—maybe she knew of an opening at a fashion magazine or something?

  “My dad’s girlfriend has these kids…. They’re practically angels. Nothing like the Perrys. At all. I mean, the seven-year-olds basically read at college level,” Eliza said enthusiastically.

  “And?” Mara switched her phone from one ear to the other and squinted, wondering where this was going.

  “Well, the thing is, the au pair they’d hired just quit—nothing to do with the kids, of course; she just landed a modeling job—so they’re hiring!” Eliza sounded so gleeful, as if she had no doubt Mara would take the job in a snap.

  “Au pair?” Mara asked doubtfully. It had been two years since she’d played babysitter. Last summer she’d had a kick-ass internship at Hamptons magazine. Chasing after a pack of kids, changing diapers, and wiping drool sounded like a big step backward. “I don’t know, E.” Mara’s eyes wandered around the Pizza Hut, finally settling on two eight-year-old boys who were taking the toppings off their pizza and throwing them at each other across the table. Little monsters.

  “She’s paying a lot,” Eliza wheedled.

  Mara’s curiosity got the better of her. “How much?”

  “How’s fifteen grand a month sound?” Eliza asked.

  “That’s a lot of money,” she conceded. Even though she’d been lucky enough to win grants and scholarship money to fund her college tuition, with the cost of living in Manhattan, college was very expensive indeed. Her internship at the Circus wasn’t putting anything in her pocket, either—it paid in freebies and premiere tickets.

  Mara didn’t want to be a sellout, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at the moment, she certainly felt like a beggar.

  “And there’s more: Jacqui’s in too. Plus I’ll be here and we can all spend the summer together! It’ll be a blast!”

  “Oh my God, Jacqui too?” Of course. Jacqui would be with the Perrys in the Hamptons. The money was tempting, and so was the promise of friends, but not the job itself. “I mean, I would love to be with you guys, but I kind of feel like I need to do some writing—you know, show David I’m cut out for it.” She looked over at the eight-year-olds again, who were now sword-fighting with their crusts. “He said my heart wasn’t in journalism. Taking a job as an au pair sort of feels like giving up, like … proving him right.”

  “Well,” Eliza said thoughtfully, “maybe David is right.”

  Mara practically dropped her slice of pizza. “Excuse me?”

  “No, no—hear me out. Maybe your heart isn’t in journalism. Because you’re so much more creative than that. You’re too romantic, too much of a … free spirit. Maybe you’d be better at writing a novel. Why don’t you come out this summer and try writing a book? You know, like one of those funny Candace Bushnell-type things. About the beautiful people and the glamorous life and how it’s not so beautiful and glam after all.”

  Mara sighed. Eliza always had outrageous, over-the-top ideas for everything. She couldn’t write a novel. What did she know about it?

  “All those nanny books are hot right now,” Eliza went on. “You could write a funny one about your experiences with the Hamptons set. The kids and their demands. The parents and their crazy expectations. I predict best seller!”

  Against her better judgment, Mara was starting to grin. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not, and you know it. C’mon. You’ll make a lot of money, get to hang out with me and Jacqui, get some notes for your blockbuster. That’ll show David, won’t it?” Eliza wheedled.

  Mara picked up her tray and tossed the contents in the garbage. “You’re quite the saleswoman, Miss Thompson!”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  “Yeah.” Mara grinned, picking up her bag again. “I’m in.”

  “Woo-hoo!”

  Mara laughed as she strode purposefully out of Pizza Hut and toward the terminal exit. It was great to have a friend like Eliza. Someone who could steer you in the right direction, even when life sent you totally off course.

  “So,” Eliza’s voice came chirping through the phone, “how soon can you be in the Hamptons?”

  Mara glanced down at her watch. She grinned. “As soon as they’re ready for me.”

  is there such a thing as

  attachment nannying?

  AS SHE STEPPED OUT OF THE TAXICAB ON DUNE DRIVE, Mara found herself greeted by a twenty-foot-high statue of Michelangelo’s David. Enormous reproductions of several of the most famous sculptures in Western history stood on the lawn in front of the mega-mansion, casting long shadows that stretched all the way to the road. If she’d renewed her passport, Mara thought glumly, she’d be seeing the real David in Florence—with her David at her side—instead of its rather tacky facsimile. But then a welcome sight greeted her among the fake Greek kouroi, chasing her negative thoughts away.

  Jacqui was sitting on the curb, cigarette in hand. She quickly stood as she saw her friend. “Mara!” she cried, running up and throwing her arms around her. Mara hugged her back fiercely. Jacqui’s thick, glossy mane of hair tickled her cheek.

  Mara finally managed to stand back and smile. “What are you doing here? Did the Perrys send you over to borrow a cup of sugar?” she joked, straightening the straps of her pale yellow sundress.

  At the mention of the Perrys, Jacqui’s face fell. “No. I’m not working for them anymore. They moved to London.”

  “To London?” Mara asked, totally taken aback. It was her turn to look distressed. “All of them?”

  Jacqui nodded, putting out her cigarette with the heel of her wedge sandal. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She linked her arm in Mara’s and the two of them walked up to the front door together.

  Mara took Jacqui’s arm and followed her blindly, lost in thought. London. If the whole family had moved, that meant Ryan was in London too. Which meant he wasn’t going to be in the Hamptons this summer. A small part of her—one she didn’t even know existed anymore—suddenly … deflated.

  When Ryan and Mara broke up last summer, they’d promised each other that they would be friends and that they’d keep in touch. They’d tried, but without much success. Ryan had e-mailed several times, and Mara had called him a bunch too, but the e-mails had been short and the phone calls stilted. In the end, Mara couldn’t remember who was supposed to get back to whom, and the correspondence dwindled, until she had to rely on third-party information from Jacqui, who worked for his family, or Eliza, who was one of Ryan’s oldest childhood friends and traveled in the same social circles.

  Mara took one last look at the David, that enduring portrait of male perfection, as they climbed the steps and thought with a sigh about the two guys in her life who she’d once thought were perfect—Ryan and David—but whose relationships with he
r had either not endured or had turned out to be less than perfect.

  The door opened moments after they rang the bell, revealing a glowing Eliza, her skin tan against a chic white halter dress. “Hola, chiquitas!” She threw out her arms and enveloped them in a three-way hug. She finally pulled back and led them into the house. “Welcome to our humble abode,” Eliza said slyly, gesturing grandly with one arm.

  “Meu Deus!” Jacqui exclaimed as they took in the size of the foyer, the gold-gilt furniture, and the breathtaking view of the ocean through floor-to-ceiling windows. The five-thousand-square-foot room had a sunken conversation pit with buttery leather couches and crystal coffee tables, and twin six-by-ten-foot Jackson Pollock canvases flanked the fireplace, almost identical to the ones that hung on the entrance to the third floor of MoMA.

  Eliza ushered them into a messy office on the ground floor. “This is Suzy,” she said, gesturing to the area behind the paper-covered desk. They turned to see a frizzy-haired woman talking into her headset while miming instructions to a few staff members who stood patiently, somehow understanding her nonverbal cues and scribbling down notes.

  Suzy took off her headset and smiled at the girls. “Hi! You must be Eliza’s friends. Come, sit!” She motioned for them to take a seat around the conference table, and her staff members slunk quietly out of the room.

  Eliza followed them to the door. “I’ll see you guys later; I have to jet to the store. Jeremy’s putting the downlighting in the dressing rooms and I have to make sure he got the pink bulbs—super-flattering!” She waved her hands and blew them kisses as she shut the door.

  Mara turned to look at Suzy again. She wondered if she was going to be as difficult as Anna Perry had been. She’d certainly heard of Suzy Finnemore, hedge fund queen, and had been expecting a hard-as-nails dragon lady. Someone blown out and Botoxed to within an inch of her life. But the woman who sat at the head of table had a blowsy, harried manner—not to mention a rumpled wardrobe. Quite a departure from the perfectly polished Hamptons housewife—which, Mara realized, was exactly what the difference was. Unlike those women, Suzy actually worked for a living—in fact, she ran a very successful business. She didn’t have time to sit around and have manicures all day. “So let me begin by saying, I usually don’t work with a nanny.” Suzy moved one of the piles of paper over so they could see each other more clearly. “I raised all the kids myself.”

  Jacqui raised an eyebrow. Now, this was interesting.

  “My ex-husband and I were total attached parents. We took Violet everywhere and when the twins came, we did the same thing. With Wyatt, we had just started the fund, so it was a little more difficult, but we managed. But then my ex left for Australia to go on a ‘walkabout.’” She made quotations with her fingers and, seeing the girls’ confused looks, explained. “It’s one of those things the aborigines do, to find out who they are. It’s been a year and a half and he’s still looking.” She threw up her hands, as if shrugging it off. “In the middle of our divorce, I found out I was pregnant with Cassidy. Since he was born, the fund’s taken off, and I’ve found that I barely have time to see to my own needs, much less theirs. And the last thing I want to be is a slacker mom. So I’ve decided to reevaluate my nurturing methods.” She leaned forward, her intelligent brown eyes flashing. “Here’s the deal. I just want you guys to think of me as your manager.”

  Mara wrinkled her brow in worry and turned to Jacqui, whose lips were curling in amusement.

  “By that I mean, since I can’t be a full-time parent anymore, on the floor and in the thick of things, I need you girls to be me—to think of my children as your children. To do everything that I would do if I had the time.” Suzy grabbed a stack of childcare books that were sitting behind her and pushed them down the table. Your Baby and Child. Dr. Spock. What to Expect the First Year. The No-Cry Sleep Solution. The Happiest Baby on the Block. The Contented Little Baby. How to Talk to a Teenager. Encouraging Your Gifted Child.

  “And then—this is the manager part—I need you to report back to me. I want you guys to keep logs on the kids. Write down everything they do and how they’re reacting to the world. Are the activities worth their time? Are they developing at the normal rate? They’re all gifted, so I want to make sure they’re all being challenged enough. Bored people are boring.”

  Jacqui cleared her throat. “I think Mara should keep the log. She’s a great writer, so maybe it should be her responsibility.”

  Suzy shrugged. “Sure. I don’t care, as long as it gets done.”

  Mara sighed inwardly but tried to keep a polite smile on her face. She couldn’t help but be reminded of their first summer as au pairs, when Eliza and Jacqui routinely blew off their responsibilities to party, leaving Mara holding the diaper bag.

  But as she glanced at the stack of books in front of her, a light flipped on in her head. A log would be a great way to keep notes as material for her book. Maybe she could even do it online, as a blog…. Everyone had one now, so that could be a great place to start. It would be good practice for writing every day, and maybe she could turn those notes into her book.

  “Thanks again for taking the position on such short notice.” Suzy stood and smoothed out some of the wrinkles in her suit, even though it looked like it had never seen an iron in its life and might never be able to recover. “Eliza has sung your praises to the heavens, so I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.” She held out her hand and shook both of their hands again, as if she’d just concluded a successful business deal. “I’ll be reviewing the log every week and tailoring their activities and development according to what I find in it. I want a high yield on my investments, so to speak.” Suzy winked to let them know she was kidding. “So just make sure they don’t crash and burn.”

  Mara nodded. Even if all didn’t go according to plan, she was used to putting out fires. She’d already been burned once today.

  these girls can’t keep

  their clothes on for long

  “AAAAND HE’S OUT,” MARA SAID, SLIPPING OFF HER shoes and plopping down on her new bed’s cushy duvet comforter. After parting ways just ten minutes ago to put the kids to sleep, she was already back to her new bedroom, and Jacqui was sprawled out on the leather sofa.

  They’d spent the better part of the day being “debriefed” on each of the Finnemore children, learning all about their likes and dislikes, their goals, their academic achievements, even their medical history. Suzy was unbelievably thorough and wanted to make sure her au pairs were well versed in all possible information related to their charges. It was like cramming for finals at Columbia all over again. But the kids themselves were remarkably easygoing and good-natured.

  “I didn’t think a kid could go to bed that quickly. I just put him down in his crib, like Suzy told me, and left him there. Five minutes later, he’s snoring.” Mara hadn’t believed it at first, having expected six-month-old Cassidy to fuss and holler, but the baby actually adhered to the rigid sleep schedule that was posted by his crib, as if he were well aware of the task at hand and wanted to stay on target. “Suzy said he’ll sleep through the night, so we’re off duty. Amazing.” Mara shook her head and reached behind her for a pillow, wedging it under her head.

  Jacqui laughed from the sofa, her glossy black hair spread out across the armrest like a fan. “Tell me about it! Can we clone those meninos? I read them a story, tucked them in, and that was it.” Jacqui sighed happily, splaying her arms out on either side of her and letting her body sink into the soft cushions. “They almost don’t need us,” she added wistfully. Her success with the Perry children had led Jacqui to earnestly think about majoring in child development. The Finnemores were a cakewalk compared to her former charges, but part of her missed the challenge.

  “We’ve got it made,” Mara agreed, glancing around the enormous room she’d been given in the children’s wing. It had a flat-screen television, a renovated bathroom with a Jacuzzi, a cushy double bed, and an Eames sofa. The whole room was furnished in a ve
ry modern style, in black and white with red accents—white walls, a jet-black duvet on the bed, a black leather couch with red cushions. Jacqui’s room was identical and right next door. Compared to the Perrys’ tiny, ramshackle servants’ cottage, this was heaven.

  “Fala sério!” Jacqui cried, sitting up. She picked up the remote from the floor and tried to figure out which of its hundreds of buttons would turn it on.

  There was a rap on the door and Eliza walked in, looking a bit grimy from her day at the store—meaning, her hair was the slightest bit out of place and her pants were wrinkled. “Hey, ladies.” She smiled.

  Mara opened one eye. “Why, hello, m’dear.”

  “Nice digs, huh?” Eliza sat down beside Jacqui on the leather sofa and Jacqui scooted over. “I told Suzy there was no way she was going to stick you in the service wing. My room is just down the hall.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she bounded from the couch and looked from one girl to the other. “You all aren’t too tired, are you?”

  “Why, what do you have in mind?” Jacqui sat up. She was always up for a little fun.

  “I found some champagne in the fridge.” Eliza removed a magnum of Cristal from her enormous Chanel bucket bag. “I think we should celebrate!”

  Mara groaned.

  Jacqui grinned.

  “C’mon, Mar,” Eliza pleaded. “What are you, a Sturbridge Puritan again? Or maybe you’re a stiff Ivy Leaguer now,” she teased. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to have fun!”

  “All right, all right.” Mara sighed, slipping her shoes on. “But we better be back at a decent hour—according to Suzy, the baby wakes up at six!”

  Eliza led them through the house to the patio, past the pool, and down to the trail that led to the beach. It was a gorgeous night. They kicked off their shoes and walked for a while in silence, taking in the moonlight and the calm sea. They eventually came to the secluded spot near the old Perry homestead, Creek Head Manor. “Weird.” Mara broke the silence. “I had no idea we were so close.”