Such Great Heights Read online

  “Wow.”

  “Mr. Healey is quite resolute when he makes a decision.”

  “You must be very proud.”

  “I am.”

  I glance over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone.

  “Tell me about Mrs. Healey?”

  Hazel’s face falls. “Must I? We’re having such a lovely conversation.”

  I grin.

  “I really shouldn’t be telling you these things,” she says softly.

  I nod, because she probably shouldn’t. But that doesn’t stop her from leaning close and spilling her guts, anyway.

  “Jackson and Natasha were high school sweethearts. His parents never approved. She was a gold digger and everyone knew it. But nobody could convince Jackson. He was young and in love.” She shakes her head at the memory. “Anyway, they got married as soon as he inherited his trust fund. Natasha—Mrs. Healey—had never been the nicest person, but once she had access to his money, she became unbearable. She and Jackson fought constantly, and he threatened divorce more than once. But she’d cry, and when that didn’t work, she’d remind him that judges typically side with the mother when it comes to custody. Since he’s an attorney, he knew that was a fact, so he bit his tongue and suffered. We all suffered.”

  “Why did she finally leave?”

  “She found someone with even more money than Jackson. He’s a businessman who splits his time between here and Chicago. Jackson introduced them at a fundraiser. One month later, Natasha packed her bags and was gone.”

  I can’t imagine it. I mean, sure, if you’re unhappy in your marriage, get out. But to leave your son behind? What kind of mother does that?

  “How did Mr. Healey take it?”

  “Honestly, he was relieved. The divorce still isn’t final because she wants half of everything. And she could get it since Jackson didn’t take his father’s advice and make her sign a prenup. So, they’re in limbo. But Natasha is gone, and she left Jackson with the one good thing that came from their relationship.”

  Ryder.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She and her new boyfriend live here in Nashville.”

  “And she never sees her son?”

  “Nope. Doesn’t even call. Natasha Healey left her husband and child and never looked back.”

  “That woman needs slapped.”

  The words are out before I can stop them.

  Hazel laughs and hugs me tight. “Oh, we’re gonna be good friends.”

  Just then, a voice clears behind us. We both turn to find Mr. Healey standing just inside the living room. His tie’s gone and his clothes are completely disheveled.

  “How is he?” Hazel asks.

  “Sleeping.” His eyes flicker to mine. “You’re still here.”

  “Yes . . . unless you’d prefer me not to be?”

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’m . . . ” Mr. Healey’s voice grows soft as he tiredly collapses against the sofa. “I’m glad. I’m glad you stayed. Thank you for staying. And thank you for your help. You may not believe this, but that actually wasn’t too bad. Except for poor Mrs. Langham.”

  Hazel nods. “We’ve definitely seen worse, as far as tantrums go. That’s the first time he’s caused serious bodily harm, though.”

  “Have you called to check on Mrs. Langham?” he asks Hazel.

  “Yes. Her son has taken her to the ER.”

  Mr. Healey winces and tiredly rubs his face. Hazel and I exchange glances before joining him on the sofa.

  “Are you okay, Olivia?” he asks softly.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry he kicked you.”

  “No harm done. Honestly. Can I do anything else?”

  “He’ll probably sleep for an hour or so. He always naps after a tantrum.” Mr. Healey exhales a noisy sigh and turns to Hazel. “What were you thinking for dinner?”

  “Grilled chicken and baked potatoes okay?”

  “Sounds great.” He nods and turns to me. “Olivia, will you be joining us for dinner?”

  “Oh. Umm . . . ” I actually hadn’t thought about food. Do I do my own shopping? Prepare my own meals?

  “The other nannies were invited to join us for dinner,” Hazel explains. “Most declined. They needed the break.”

  “And you’re free to do that, as well,” Mr. Healey says. “But I wanted to extend the invitation, just the same. Of course, you’re welcome to anything in the kitchen. If there’s something specific you need, just let Hazel know.”

  “We try to eat dinner as a family every night,” Hazel says. “Sometimes it doesn’t happen, depending on Mr. Healey’s schedule, but we do try. It’d be wonderful if you could join us.”

  “I’d love that. Thank you. But only if you let me help. I could at least bake the potatoes or make a salad.”

  “And she cooks! What an angel.”

  Mr. Healey tries to hide his smile as Hazel pulls me by the hand and all but drags me to the kitchen.

  Dinner is unbearably awkward.

  And quiet. So quiet.

  I wonder if everyone’s just exhausted from the day or if Mommy Dearest required complete silence at the dinner table.

  I decide to find out.

  “This chicken’s delicious, Hazel.”

  Three heads jerk up, as if everyone’s coming out of a trance.

  Mr. Healey nods. “Yes. Hazel is a wonderful cook.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Ryder flicks a few peas off his plate. Only a few have landed on his intended target—which is me. Since he’s following my rule and only throwing soft things, I decide to ignore it for now. Picking my battles, and all that. At least he’s not throwing the plate.

  “Cut my chicken,” he demands with a whine.

  Hazel already cut the chicken. The kid’s just being a brat.

  “Don't you like chicken, Ryder?”

  He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

  “But not tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it's not brown.”

  My brows crease in confusion. Mr. Healey downs his glass of wine.

  “Ryder likes nuggets or strips—anything with breading,” Hazel explains.

  “Oh.” This sounds like a simple problem. “I thought I saw some nuggets in the freezer. I’d be happy to make them.”

  Hazel shakes her head. “Mrs. . . . I mean, others, prefer him to eat what the adults are having.”

  This entire family is still living in Mrs. Healey’s shadow. Don’t they understand her rules don’t apply anymore? The wicked witch is gone.

  “Mr. Healey, I have an idea. May I?”

  His eyebrows arch in surprise, but he nods. I sprint to the fridge and rummage through the frozen veggies until I find what I’m looking for. One microwave and two minutes later, I’m back at the table. Everyone watches curiously as I remove Ryder’s plate and replace it with six chicken nuggets.

  “Now, let’s see what we can do about this potato.”

  With my fork, I mash the potato into small bites. Honestly, who gives a five year old a baked potato? When I’m finished, I look up to find Ryder gazing at me with wide, adoring eyes.

  “I can eat that?” His voice is soft and totally breaks my heart.

  Knowing he needs permission from someone besides me, I glance at Mr. Healey and Hazel . . . their faces total masks of surprise and wonder. I quietly clear my throat, and Mr. Healey’s eyes blink into focus.

  “Of course . . . of course you can, Ryder.”

  I sigh with relief and hand the kid his fork.

  “They’re still a little hot,” I tell him. “Let them cool some, okay?”

  He nods. “Can I have ketchup?”

  Hazel’s out of her chair in a flash. When she returns, she’s holding a bottle of Heinz. She flips the top, but Ryder stubbornly shakes his head.

  Oh no.

  “I want her to do it,” he says, pointing his little finger at me.

&
nbsp; Hallelujah!

  I pour the ketchup, and all of us watch with fascination as the little boy eats every bite of his dinner. And he does it without flipping any more peas.

  After dinner, Hazel offers to give Ryder his bath while Mr. Healey heads to his study to catch up on some work. Happy to have a few moments to myself, I decide to get acquainted with the contents of Ryder’s toy box.

  It doesn’t take long.

  Puzzles with tiny pieces his little fingers can’t grasp and some board games like Life and Monopoly—both of which are awesome but not appropriate for a five-year-old. I find some handheld gadgets that look cool but are way too advanced for Ryder’s age.

  I make a mental shopping list. Ryder needs fun toys.

  Next, I check out the bookshelf. There were a few children’s storybooks, but not many. Most of the books were titles I didn’t read until high school. Or college. Huck Finn. To Kill a Mockingbird. Moby Dick.

  So ridiculous.

  “All clean,” Hazel says as they walk back into the bedroom. Ryder’s pajamas are white and silk? I’m definitely adding new pajamas to my shopping list.

  He climbs into bed and eyes me warily. I smile, hoping our progress at dinner will continue through the rest of the night. But he doesn’t smile back.

  Fantastic.

  “Ryder, would you like me to read you a story?

  He shakes his head and buries himself under the blanket.

  “Bedtime can be a struggle,” Hazel says softly.

  She grabs a Dr. Seuss book off the nightstand and settles herself on the bed with him. Ryder peeks out from under the cover and snuggles close to her chest.

  Not wanting to intrude, I slowly walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.

  Now what do I do?

  We didn’t really discuss my hours. Am I on call all night?

  I need to ask Hazel.

  It’s just a little after eight, and I’m considering going to my room and finding my own book when I hear Mr. Healey call my name from the living room. Taking a deep breath, I walk down the hallway and find him on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

  “How’s he doing?” he asks.

  Mr. Healey slides over to make room. The gesture surprises me. I mean, there are plenty of other places to sit in this museum they call a living room. Still, I accept his invitation and join him on the couch.

  “He seems okay. Hazel says bedtime can be tough.”

  He nods and places his phone on the end table before turning his attention back to me.

  “So, tell me, how do you feel about your first day?”

  “I feel . . . I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  “You’re still here.”

  “I am. That’s a good sign, right?”

  His tired eyes gaze into mine, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. He really is quite handsome, with his dark hair and chiseled features. Dana never mentioned how good looking her brother was, and I make a mental note to kill her . . . again . . . the next time I see her.

  “A very good sign,” he says softly, and I swear I can hear something in his voice. Something hopeful. Tired, but hopeful. “You really were wonderful with him at dinner. I felt so stupid.”

  “Oh, Mr. Healey, I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s not your fault. I just needed to be reminded that Ryder’s mother is . . . well, she’s gone. Her rules don’t apply anymore. I’m afraid it’s going to be a hard habit to break. I may need you to remind me again in the future.”

  “But I don’t want to overstep. If there are specific rules you want enforced, I’ll need you to tell me what they are.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “I think we should work on some new rules. Except for bedtime. We should leave that one alone.”

  “I agree. Eight o’clock seems reasonable to me.”

  “But otherwise, I’d like your help in establishing some new rules. We need them. Ryder needs them.”

  “Absolutely. I’m happy to help.”

  His face softens. “Olivia, I want to apologize. When I interviewed you today, I was unnecessarily rude.”

  “You were just testing me. I knew that.”

  Mr. Healey seems surprised, but pleased, that I read him so easily.

  “Well, you passed with flying colors. My son actually ate his dinner without a temper tantrum. Tonight was the first peaceful dinner we’ve had in months. I have you to thank for that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I feel my face flush. I’m not used to so much praise. It’s actually starting to make me feel uncomfortable. This is my job. Why is he so surprised that I’m doing it?

  But I know the answer. He’s surprised I’m doing well because so many failed before me.

  “Mr. Healey, I was wondering if I could do some shopping for Ryder?”

  “Shopping?”

  “I’d like to buy some age appropriate toys and books. And something to sleep in besides silk pajamas.”

  Mr. Healey smiles. “Of course. And that reminds me. Be right back.”

  He heads down the hallway toward his study. When he returns, he hands me a platinum credit card.

  “For whatever you or Ryder may need.”

  The man’s giving me a credit card. It even has my name on it.

  Do all nannies get a credit card?

  “How? I mean—”

  “I want you to have everything you need, Olivia. In addition to your salary, this card is yours. Decorate your room however you like. Buy whatever toys you think are appropriate. Take Ryder out to lunch. To the zoo. To museums. Whatever you think he’ll enjoy. Whatever’s best for him.”

  I have no idea what to say.

  “Thank you, Mr. Healey. I promise not to take advantage of this.”

  “I trust you. No worries.”

  “Why? I mean, I’m glad you trust me. But you don’t even know me.”

  “Both your background check and credit score are perfect. Most importantly, Dana trusts you with her life. From what I’ve seen today, my sister has very good instincts. That’s why I trust you.”

  Mr. Formal is long gone. For the first time since we met, he sounds relaxed, and I have the feeling the man is rarely relaxed. It gives me hope, and I smile. To my surprise, he smiles back. I think it’s the first honest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. And it makes him even more handsome. Boyish almost. Much younger than thirty.

  “He’s asleep.”

  We both jump at the sound of Hazel’s voice.

  “Thank you, Hazel.” Mr. Healey rises from the couch and offers us a tight grin. “I’m going to finish up some work before I head to bed myself. Thank you again, Olivia.”

  “You’re welcome. Goodnight, Mr. Healey.”

  As he retreats to his study, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

  Mr. Formal is back.

  Have you ever witnessed the glow in a child’s eyes when he’s surrounded by a mountain of toys? Toys that are noisy and fun and actually age appropriate for the first time in his life?

  Neither had I, until today.

  “What’s that?” Ryder asks with an awed whisper as Hazel pushes his cart down the aisle of the toy store. The kid’s head whips in every direction as if he’s watching a high-speed tennis match.

  “This is a John Deere tractor.” I push one of the buttons, causing the headlights to flash. “Isn’t that cool?”

  He nods eagerly, and I toss it into the cart along with the rest of the toys. Simple toys. Inexpensive toys. Coloring books. Matchbox cars. Action figures. The little boy’s eyes widened like saucers when I introduced him to the wonderful world of Play-Doh. The excited expression on his face melted my heart, so naturally, I bought tubs of the stuff.

  Ryder’s happiness was infectious. Even Hazel had picked some toys to add to the growing heap. Big puzzles. An Etch-a-Sketch. We’d even glanced briefly at the bicycles, but we both agreed we’d better discuss it with Mr. Healey before buying one. Ryder accepted this without a tantrum, and for a split seco
nd, visions of me teaching the little boy how to ride a bike flooded my heart with joy.

  Careful, Olivia. It’s only the second day. Don’t get too attached.

  I know it’s dangerous, letting myself grow close to Ryder when we have no idea how this arrangement is going to work out. But so far, we’ve had breakfast and shopped, and we’d done it all without a meltdown.

  The rest of the week passes in a blissful blur. Since kindergarten doesn’t start for a few more days, Ryder and I spend our summer days sightseeing and playing with his new toys. At night, we play more games, read books, and practice writing his name and numbers. Hazel and I grow closer while Mr. Healey remains formal and aloof. I can’t help but wonder if he regrets hiring me, but Hazel assures me that I shouldn’t take offense. He’s simply preoccupied with work and bitter about life in general. Despite his bad mood, he’s always polite at dinner and thanks me at the end of the day.

  And every night, once Ryder’s asleep, I stand on the balcony and look down at the city below, completely amazed that this is my home.

  For now, anyway.

  To my surprise, I’m truly loving my job, and by day six, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. So proud that, when Mr. Healey suggests I take Saturday off, I’m actually hesitant. When I mention it to Hazel over breakfast that morning, I’m surprised to find that she agrees with him.

  “Trust me, Olivia. You need to take some time for yourself. You’ve been with the child nearly twenty-four hours a day all week long.”

  “But that’s my job.”

  “Yes, and today’s your day off. Enjoy it.”

  “I just hate to disrupt Ryder’s schedule. He’s been doing so well.”

  “He has, and we have you to thank for it. It’s given Jackson the confidence to take his son out for breakfast this morning. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since that’s happened. And he plans on taking him to the zoo this afternoon.”

  “Oh, then I should go with—”

  “No, you shouldn’t. It’s the perfect chance for you to get away for a few hours. Take it.”

  It would be fun to see Dana and Angel, so I send them a quick text to see if they’re free for lunch. They both respond almost immediately, and we make plans to meet at a place Angel loves called The Garden Café.