The Nanny

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!” Liv groaned as she untangled herself from the bed sheets that had charmingly woven themselves around her like a Grecian toga as she slept. It was past 7 am, she somehow managed to sleep through three alarms, though they had been blaring obnoxiously a mere five inches from her head. Launching herself across her bedroom, she began tearing through her rickety dresser in search of anything that could even slightly resemble a work appropriate outfit. Pulling on a pair of black leggings, a button up shirt and an oversized cardigan, she sprinted to the bathroom to run a toothbrush over her teeth and a brush through her wild hair.

“Jonathan?” Liv called from the bathroom, just managing to catch the toothpaste threatening to dribble down her chin onto her collar, “Jonathan!”

“Yes, darling?” Liv’s roommate Jonathan appeared in the bathroom doorway, tying his floral satin robe closed as he momentarily glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. “Oh, honey. You’re going to be late. Can I make you some coffee before you go?”

“No coffee but can I please use your Metro card? I promise I’ll pay you back Friday when Lana pays me.”

“It’s on the drop table next to my keys,” Jonathan said waving his hand nonchalantly as he disappeared behind the kitchen wall. Liv rushed down the hall, plucked her messenger bag from the coat rack, and began pulling on her knee-high boots while simultaneously slinging her bag across her body. Jonathan emerged from the kitchen, banana in hand, and said, “Here, love, you need to eat something.”

“You’re the best,” she said stopping in the doorway, “will I be seeing you tonight?”

“I’ll be off to see Felix, but I shouldn’t be gone the night,” Jonathan said with a cheeky smile and a wink before closing and locking the door behind her.

Liv rushed down the four flights of stairs from her apartment and burst through the front doors of her building out onto the chilly New York street. It was a four block walk to the subway and a 25 minute ride to get to work from there. By day, Liv was a nanny for the Prescott family, who were very prominent in the New York business scene. They lived in a breathtaking penthouse suite on Park Avenue overlooking Central Park. It was Liv’s responsibility to arrive at work promptly at 7:40 every morning to escort seven year old twins Evan and Ethan to school, and take their little sister Ava for her morning stroll. While the Prescotts did pay her well, and were wonderful to work for, in Liv’s dreams, she was a writer. She spent every free moment she could spare writing in a small black notebook that contained her most intimate thoughts and feelings, poems, short stories, and ideas for future pieces. New York was full of opportunities and Liv knew that someday one of those opportunities would be hers.

Maneuvering through the crowd, Liv headed down the dimly lit staircase that led to the Subway platform. The 6 train was pulling up just as she arrived and she was able to snag a seat in the far corner of the car. The subway was one of Liv’s favorite places to write. The hum of the train reverberating off the walls of the tunnel mixing with the voices of other passengers created a white noise Liv found comfort in. She dug through her bag, pulled out her notebook and gingerly unwrapped the elastic band that held it closed. A few quiet minutes of writing later, the train had made one of its many stops and a rush of new passengers searching for seats or a handrail to hold entered her car. Liv glanced up and noticed a small, elderly woman clutching one of the handrails. Liv had a soft spot for the elderly. She swore she could see glimmers of her own grandparents in each of them, which greatly influenced how she treated them. Tucking her notebook back into her bag, Liv stood and offered her seat to the woman.

“Oh thank you, dear,” the woman smiled graciously.

“Of course,” Liv returned her smile.

With a handrail snugly in the crook of her arm and her feet planted firmly, Liv pulled out her cell phone to check the time. 7:32 am. Just enough time to make it to work. As the train came to a stop and the doors opened, Liv had to bob and weave methodically to avoid getting caught in the undertow of people entering and exiting all at once.

“Good morning, Jeremy!” Liv sang, smiling at the doorman welcoming her into the Prescotts’ building.

“Well good morning, Miss Olivia!” He replied warmly.

Liv bustled through the lobby toward the waiting elevator and pressed the large bronze button with a capital P embossed on it. The doors slid closed and the elevator whirred into motion, stopping only when she arrived on the top floor, and was deposited into the Prescott’s grand but inviting foyer. Heading around the corner toward the living room, she was met with giggles as two little blurs ran smack into her, throwing their arms around her.

“Olivia!” The boys sang in unison.

“How are my two favorite boys this morning? Ready for school?”

“I’m ready!” Ethan chimed.

“Me too! Almost!” Evan called as he ran across the room to grab his backpack.

“Let’s get Ava so we can head out okay? Why don’t we go say goodbye to mom.”

Lana Prescott had an uncanny ability to look put together no matter the hour or occasion, and with three young children that was no small feat. Liv admired her for it.

“Good morning, Olivia!” Lana called from behind the refrigerator door. She emerged holding matching lunchboxes, one for each boy. “I have a few errands to run this morning, but I’ll be back this afternoon for Ava, then Mr. Prescott and I will be attending the parent teacher conferences at Dalton so we can pick up the boys and you can head out early.” She then proceeded to pluck Ava from her highchair and hand her over to a waiting Liv.

“Great! Thank you!” she smiled, “Good morning, Miss Ava!” She sang sweetly as she cupped Ava’s chin in her hand. Ava responded by giggling and snuggling into her shoulder.

Liv headed back to the foyer with all three children in tow, and placed Ava in her stroller while they waited for the elevator. Dalton was a short walk from the Prescotts’ building, not far enough to count for a substantial morning stroll, so Liv and Ava had made it their daily routine to head to Central Park after dropping off the boys, for some people watching, pigeon feeding, running, and playing. Then they’d scope out a nice shady spot under a tree or a bench where Liv could write while Ava took her morning nap. The morning was shaping up nicely, and by 11:15 Ava was rubbing her eyes, her nonverbal signal that it was nap time. Liv pulled over to an empty bench and within minutes Ava was asleep. As she was about to reach into her bag to retrieve her notebook, she felt a light vibration coming from her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and saw an unfamiliar number and momentarily considered sending it to voicemail before answering, “Hello?”

“Hi there, I’m calling for Olivia Moore,” the woman’s voice on the other line responded.

“Speaking,” Liv said.

“Miss Moore, my name is Paris Ferguson, I’m a publisher with Random House, and I’m interested in setting up a meeting with you, sometime this week preferably.”

“A meeting? With me? But I haven’t submitted any work, how did you get my contact information?”

“Yes well your name and phone number are written here on the inside of your journal…”

“My jou-” Liv reached for her bag and opened it wide to reveal her wallet, a few stray receipts, a book, a tin of breath mints, Jonathan’s Metro card, and her pen. No notebook in sight. “How did you-“

Paris continued, “Now normally we don’t accept any unsolicited materials, but the circumstance by which I came into possession of your work was pretty unique, and I’d really like to sit down with you as soon as possible to discuss a potential book deal.”

A book deal?! Liv was stunned. This had to be a joke. She would set up a meeting with this woman, show up to her office and surely the receptionist would have no record of her and two large men would appear to escort her off the premises. But who would do this?

“Miss Moore? Are you still there?”

“Y-yes I’m here,” Liv responded, “I can come in today. Is 3 o’clock okay?”

“3 is good for me, I’ll send the address. Check in at the front desk when you arrive and I’ll send my assistant to escort you. I’m looking forward to meeting with you!”

“Great! Thank you so much, see you this afternoon!” Liv slid her phone back into her pocket. The many questions swirling through her head threatened to overwhelm her if she continued to sit still, so she stood and began pushing Ava’s stroller in the direction of the Prescotts’.

Liv looked down at her phone, the screen read 2:45 pm. She looked back up at the giant glass revolving doors gleaming in front of her, took a deep breath and walked inside. After speaking with the receptionist at the front desk, a young lady who introduced herself as Paris’ assistant Emily came around to escort her to Paris’ office. Emily instructed her to have a seat, and offered her a beverage while she waited. Each moment felt like an eternity, and Liv was becoming increasingly aware of her racing pulse.

“Miss Moore?” Liv looked up to see a smiling face, “I’m Paris Ferguson.”

Liv’s feet tapped nervously on the carpet as Paris closed the office door and took her place behind her desk. “Miss Moore, thank you so much for meeting with me on such short notice,” Paris said as she opened a desk drawer and retrieved Liv’s notebook.

“Of course, thank you for seeing me, and please feel free to call me Olivia.”

“Olivia,” Paris smiled, “do you believe in karma?”

The question caught Liv off guard, “Karma? Sure I think so. Why do you ask?"

“This morning I received a phone call from my grandmother. She’d just gotten off the subway where a very kind young lady offered her her seat so she didn’t have to stand. When she stood to leave, she noticed this journal,” she nudged Liv’s notebook forward and continued, “that had been stuck between the gap in the seats, so she took it with her in the hopes that it would find its way back into the hands of its owner. When she opened it up and began to read she discovered the absolute brilliance that exists within its pages, and she called me. As I said on the phone, we do not typically accept unsolicited submissions, but after discussing it with my team, we’re prepared to make you an offer today.”

“An offer?”

“To publish.”

“You want to publish my work?”

“Immediately. There’s at least a book’s worth of poetry here, as well as starters for a number of very promising short stories. We’re prepared to offer you a $20,000 advance for the lot.”

Liv exited the building, as a feeling of utter triumph and fulfillment washed over her. She finally understood the old trope of wanting to scream from the rooftops. She pulled out her phone and dialed. The call had barely gone through when a familiar voice answered, “Hey, love, you on your way home?”

“Jonathan, you are not going to believe what happened to me today.” Liv headed toward the subway, opportunity called today, and she was so glad she answered.