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Back Nanny Dearest Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. Part Two
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. Part Three
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I feel a pinch in my stomach, a curdling flame of indignation, as I let the evening’s events settle over me, watch Georgia’s car exit the parking lot first. I’m jealous, I realize. As much as I enjoyed reuniting with her, I’m envious that Georgia had the adolescence I would have experienced had my mother lived. Even if my mom eventually excommunicated her, Georgia was still her favorite family member for years; she took my spot even before I was born, and part of me is glad they had a falling out, that I was her sole focus at the end of her life.

I try to push these thoughts down as Gavin kisses my forehead before we get into the car. Even in the darkness, I can tell he has a smile on his face, so I plaster one on, too.

36

May 1997

Finally, after what seems like weeks, Mrs. Keller’s maddening friend leaves. Everyone eventually trickles out. It’s fully spring, and the house is quiet. Flowers are in bloom. Suzy muddies her sneakers at school. Annie chops off her hair to her shoulders. Suzy is the only one who notices. As Mrs. Keller predicted, Annie is now a pariah at school pickup. It doesn’t matter, though. They’ll be gone soon enough.

Mr. Keller locks himself in his office for days on end now. He is close to finishing his book, and he doesn’t want disturbances. He tucks Suzy in at night and goes back to work. He pays Annie to work weekends, though she’s been on weekend duty without pay for weeks now. With the radiators turned off and the people departed, Annie hears the clack-clack-clack of his typing through the walls at night. Hears him bring the entire pot of coffee from the coffee maker into his office at one, two in the morning. Then he sleeps until noon. She’s seen the diazepam bottle on his night table. Whether he needs it for grief or sleep is unclear.

One night, they run into each other in the kitchen. He is brewing another pot of coffee. She is idly rearranging the word magnets on the refrigerator. He asks her to come out with him to the porch as he waits for the coffee maker to churn, and she obediently follows.