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“Mother, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” she slurs without looking at me. She must be drunk. “I’m throwing this hideous doll in the trash where it belongs. It’s been giving me nightmares and I’m sick of it!”
The Baby Reborn doll. Nurse Marley’s gift.
With Isa now sound asleep in her carrier, I charge up to my mother. “You have no right to throw away anything that belongs to me.” I snatch the doll out of her hand. Part of me wants to throw out the creepy, realistic doll myself, but I refrain. Instead, I tell my mother to get dressed, that a hurricane is expected.
“Puh-lease.” With a roll of her eyes, she opens the fridge and pulls out an open bottle of Merlot. She guzzles the wine right from the bottle.
Outside, a vroom sounds. I recognize it. It’s Ned’s Lamborghini. The car comes to a screeching halt. The front door bursts open and rapid, heavy footsteps make their way to the kitchen. Is he in one of his foul moods?
I look up. It’s not Ned. It’s Nurse Marley.
“What are you doing here?” Her presence makes my skin crawl.
“I’ve come to tell you I’m quitting.”
Brandishing her free arm, my mother does some kind of drunken happy dance. I hope she’ll be sober enough to evacuate the house if we have to.
Marley ignores her and looks me dead in the eye. “I can’t work for someone who calls me a liar.”
“Fine.” My heart does a happy dance of its own. She’s sparing me from having to fire her.
Her violet eyes bore into me. “I’ve come to collect what’s mine.”
FIFTY
AVA
I stare at my surprise visitor, Nurse Marley, my skin prickling from her very presence.
“No problem. Your bags are in the nursery. Be my guest.” My eyes flit to the kitchen counter. “And you can take back the bottle warmer and sterilizer—I don’t need them—and your Baby Reborn doll.” I resist the temptation to shove the doll in her face.
Dressed in black sweats and Uggs and carrying a large purse over her arm, she holds me fiercely in her gaze.
A clap of thunder sounds. Another flash of lightning. I hear the wind howl.
A storm cloud of uncertainty hangs over me as Marley strides my way.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her eyes drop to Isa, ensconced in her carrier. Then, she glowers at me, her violet orbs flickering with a diabolic glint I’ve never seen before.
“Give her to me,” she hisses.
What?
“Take Isa out of the carrier and hand her over to me.” Vitriol fills her voice. Who is this person? Certainly not the same solicitous newborn care specialist I met three months ago at Starbucks. Something’s snapped. It’s like she’s been injected with venom.
“Please, Ava.” Her tone lightens. “Just give me the baby.” She flashes me a conciliatory smile.
“Marley, she’s perfectly content and sleeping.” Another streak of lightning. “You should get your stuff and get on the road before the storm comes.”
Her expression darkens. “Ava, what part of ‘give me the baby’ don’t you understand?”
What is wrong with her? Has she gone mad? Had some kind of psychotic break?
My bones vibrate with apprehension, sending dread to the pit of my stomach. Hugging Isa snugly against my chest, I watch as our ex-nanny plunges a hand into her bag and withdraws a shiny metal object.
My eyes grow wide, nearly popping out of their sockets.
