The second candidate, a sophomore with a blue streak in her hair, answered her phone in the middle of the interview. She didn’t say, I’m sorry, I have to take this, it’s an emergency, she just held up a finger while Elisabeth was midsentence and said, “Hey.”
The third had only ever worked with older kids, as a camp counselor. She didn’t support the baby’s head when she held him. Elisabeth snatched Gil back, a tad overdramatic, and said she’d be in touch.
* * *
—
The fourth candidate was due at nine. She had sent an email in response to the ad, saying she had spent the previous summer working as a nanny in London. Elisabeth knew better than to get her hopes up, but she could not stop entertaining visions of Gil being adored by a loving, yet firm, British woman.
Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins.
Julie Andrews as Maria von Trapp.
At five to the hour, Gil asleep on her shoulder, she watched a plump young brunette in a baggy T-shirt dress and flip-flops come up the block.
The girl walked past the house without slowing down.
Elisabeth decided it must not be her.
She had made coffee and put out muffins and croissants, as if she were hosting brunch. She did the same for the others. The girl with the blue streak in her hair had asked if she could take the leftover pastries to go.
Elisabeth had never interviewed anyone for a job before. When she was younger, she would have imagined that by the time she was doing so, she’d know how. That just being on this side of things conferred authority, control.
She pulled up her to-do list on her phone. Dinner at Faye and George’s. Shower. Babysitter. WRITE? She sometimes added things to the list that she had already done, so that she could check them off later. A question mark after an item meant there was no way she was going to do it.
The doorbell rang right at nine, and there stood the girl in the T-shirt dress, a huge smile on her face. Had she kept walking so she wouldn’t arrive early? Or had she gotten lost?
“You must be Sam,” Elisabeth whispered, pushing the screen door open with one arm as she cradled the sleeping baby in the other. “I’m Elisabeth. And this is Gil.”
“Hi,” the girl said softly. Chipper, that was the word for her tone.
She stepped inside, looked around.
A soft blue rug ran the length of the front hall, exposing on either side the hardwood floors beneath. To the left was the large, sunny living room. To the right, a wooden staircase with a white banister. Midway up the stairs, there was a stained-glass window, which Elisabeth had loved as soon as she walked in for the first time, knowing then, before she had seen a single room, that they would buy the place.
“I love your house,” Sam said. “It has such a peaceful vibe.”
Elisabeth almost snorted, but then took stock of herself: her plain white button-down and black leggings. Her bare feet, her hair up in a loose bun. The silver tray of pastries; Simon and Garfunkel playing on the Bose. The baby in his soft white pajamas. She could see how it seemed peaceful from the outside.
The girl couldn’t tell what was in her head. Elisabeth liked that.
“Oh my goodness, look at his curls,” Sam said.
It was what most people said when they saw Gil for the first time. The words filled Elisabeth with a foolish degree of pride, as if she had designed him that way.
He was born with a full head of golden hair, which made him special from the start. Nurses came to her hospital room just to see the curls.
They all called Elisabeth Mom, and Andrew was Dad.
The first time it happened, the nurse was not much older than Sam.
“You should take three Motrin, Mom,” she said. And, “Mom, press the button if you need to get up. Don’t try to stand on your own yet.”
In her stupor, Elisabeth wondered whether the girl really thought she was her mother. Was she?
Later, Nomi told her nurses did this so they didn’t have to learn the names of parents they would know only for forty-eight hours. Elisabeth thought maybe it was also meant to help the parents catch up to what had happened, saying the words over and over, until they felt like the truth.
“What can I get you, Sam?” she said now. “Coffee? Pellegrino?”
“Nothing, thanks. I’m good.”
Sam kicked off her shoes.
“You don’t have to,” Elisabeth said, but the gesture pleased her. None of the others had thought to do it.
“I should wash my hands,” she said.
Elisabeth pointed at a narrow door. “Powder room.”
The handwashing seemed to take a long time. It felt odd, oppressive, to wait in the hall. Elisabeth went and sat down on the sofa.
The baby woke up from his nap.
“Hello, my love,” she whispered. “There’s a friend here to meet you.”
It occurred to her then that Sam wasn’t English.
When she came in, Gil was sitting, assisted, in Elisabeth’s lap, big blue eyes open wide.
Sam gasped.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, and Elisabeth loved her at once.
“Please,” she said. “Sit. Tell us about yourself. You said in your email that you were a nanny in London? So I thought—” She laughed.
“What?” Sam said.
“I guess I thought you’d have an accent.”
“Oh. No. Sorry. I was just there for the summer. I worked for a family with eighteen-month-old twins and a newborn. All boys.”
“Dear God.”
“It wasn’t as hard as it sounds,” Sam said. “I’ve been taking care of children my whole life. I’m the oldest of four, and I have nineteen younger cousins.”
“My goodness.”
“My mother never wanted me to babysit. She wanted me to get a waitressing job. She said it was more respectable. But I love working with kids.”
“I was a waitress for years. There’s nothing respectable about it, believe me,” Elisabeth said with a smile. She pushed the tray of pastries toward Sam. “What did you think of London? I’ve liked it there, the few times I’ve been.”
“I love it,” Sam said. “My boyfriend, Clive, is there. He’s English. I’m hoping to get back to see him as much as I can this year. It’s expensive, but his sister-in-law works for British Airways, so we can use her discount if we go standby.”
“Is Clive a student too?” Elisabeth asked.