But just as I’m drifting off, my phone buzzes again.

Hot Job Alert: Nanny Wanted – Teacher Experience Required: $150k Salary

My eyes snap open, the words blurring for a second before coming into focus.

“$150k? Who the heck is gonna pay that much for a nanny or a teacher?” I whisper, sitting up so fast he lets out an indignant meow.

I stare at the screen, chewing on the idea.

“Should I apply, Tum Tum? $150,000 would be all I need to pay off my debt, find a good lawyer and a judge who can’t be bought, and then move out of my parents’ house,” This crazy idea is taking shape despite my reservations. Transitioning from a decorated teacher to a nanny could spark unwanted rumors. I can almost hear the town whispers now, ‘Kerry Kind’s fall from grace—the once beloved teacher turned disgraced nanny.’

I shake my head. Nope. I’m tired of being the town’s favorite topic.

Exhausted and slightly buzzed, I nestle deeper into Tum Tum’s fur, seeking comfort. As I drift to sleep, my dreams unfurl—vivid, wild, and filled with all I’ve lost: aspirations, love, purpose, and a can of whipped cream.

~~~

I’ve been applying for jobs for months since my layoff, and not once have I gotten a response. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have gotten responses but not the kind anyone wants.

“We regret to inform you…”

It’s become the anthem of my inbox. Rejection emails are my new morning alarms. Each one feels like a tiny gut punch, chipping away at the fragile confidence I’m desperately clinging to.

So, when I open my email this morning and see an invitation to interview for the nanny position, I’m beyond surprised.

But that’s not even the craziest part.

I didn’t apply for this job.

I wanted to apply last night, but my heavy eyelids won after the wine, wallowing, and an intense staring contest with Tum Tum (which I lost). The job posting was forgotten—or so I thought.

I read the email three times, squinting like the words might rearrange themselves into something that makes more sense.

Subject: Interview Invitation for Homeschool Position

Dear Kerry,

Despite a few embellishments on your resume, we were extremely impressed with your skill set, career experience, and raving reviews from town residents and former colleagues.

To summarize your email, you’ve agreed to the following:

1. Responsibilities: Nanny is to provide homeschooling and nurturing services.
2. Exclusivity: Nanny services must be provided for the employer’s family only.
3. NDA: Nanny must keep the employer’s identity private and confidential.
4. Room + Board: Nanny agrees to reside on the estate during the weekday.
5. Employment Contract: Nanny agrees to a one year employment contract.
6. Pets: You’re welcome to bring your feline friend.
7. Compensation: $150,000 annually.

Unfortunately, we are unable to accommodate your request to allow your best friends to visit. The family enjoys their privacy.

Best friends?