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Chapter One
June 1993
The first time Rose saw Nantucket Island, she was twenty-one years old. In a cheap miniskirt and a baseball cap, she stood on the top deck of the Nantucket Ferry, hands around the railing, chin lifted. Tears drained her eyes and lined her cheeks, and her tongue was scratchy from dehydration.But I made it,she told herself as the soft northern breeze swept through her hair.I’ll never go back to Mississippi again.
Back home, Rose had answered an advertisement in a newspaper. It read:Good with kids? Hungry for an adventure? Contact us for the summer opportunity of a lifetime.Although she’d never worked with children beyond her seven younger brothers and sisters, she’d called the number immediately. She pressed the phone hard against her ear to combat the demonically loud television her father played at all hours of the day. A woman with a prim voice answered, asked Rose a series of simple questions about her background,and set up an interview. Rose learned later that the first woman was only a secretary, a first line of defense between potential babysitters and the Walden family. There were numerous interviews, followed by a meet and greet with the mother and the four Walden children. It was a shock to Rose that she’d gotten the gig. She’d never gotten anything in her life.
Rose had only a backpack and a small suitcase filled with essentials, mostly play clothes and swimsuits since the majority of her hours would be spent with the children. She carried these down the ferry ramp and out toward the ticket office. A chauffeur awaited her in a black hat and an all-black outfit that looked sweltering. His smile was brief and not warm.
“Good afternoon, Miss Carlson,” he said. “How was your trip?”
Rose shifted her weight from foot to foot and watched him ease her dumpy-looking bags into the back of a sleek BMW.
“It was my first time on an airplane,” Rose said finally, then cursed herself.Don’t let anyone know how green you are, even if it’s true.
“Welcome to the twentieth century,” the driver said dryly. He opened the back door and gestured for Rose to enter.
Rose buckled herself in and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She bit her tongue when asking the chauffeur what to expect from this spring and summer in Nantucket. She already guessed he wasn’t the sort of man to look out for others, that his rank as “chauffeur” put him far above “family babysitter.” Plus, he was in his forties or fifties and clearly wanted nothing to do with helping a twenty-one-year-old girl from the sticks.
I crawled out of my life,Rose reminded herself.Nobody did this but me. I don’t need his approval or his help.
It shouldn’t have surprised Rose that the Walden house was the biggest she’d ever seen in her life. Located in the exclusive and wealthy east Nantucket Siasconset, the house was like something from a sprawling epic about American wealth, with a west wing and an east wing, three walled gardens, a private white beach, and woods on either side, thick with oaks and maples and birch trees.
An iron gate unlatched itself and swung open, allowing the BMW to cut through and park in the driveway. Rose didn’t wait for the chauffeur to free her. She popped out and stood in shock, arms hanging loosely. The mansion had to have a thousand windows. It had to have a zillion rooms.
Rose had shared a bedroom with her two sisters her entire life. She’d never known what personal space felt like. But the Walden children assuredly had separate bedrooms. Their hide-and-seek games were probably epic. Rose said a small prayer for her future self.Please don’t let the children be massive brats.She’d hardly met them in passing: two girls, and two boys, all between the ages of four and ten.
Mrs. Audra Walden herself met Rose in the sitting room a few minutes later. This was a surprise. Rose had imagined herself diving right in with her tasks for the children. But Mrs. Walden wanted to take a moment to properly welcome her to Nantucket, serve her tea, and, of course, provide her with the numerous house rules that would govern the following three and a half months of her Nantucket stay. Rose felt like a woman in a fairy tale, caught in a tapestry of rules she couldn’t comprehend.
“For one,” Mrs. Walden said, “there will be no leaving the grounds unless it is your day off. We’ve hired you to work for us, and that work requires you to be here. There’s plenty of woods, beach, garden, and house for you and the children here.”
Rose nodded. Where else could she go? She didn’t have a car. She didn’t know her way around the island. It seemed like a silly rule.
“You will have one day off per week,” Mrs. Walden said. “Usually, that day will be Tuesday, although that is apt to change based on our schedules.”
Mrs. Walden removed a small book from the side table and passed it to Rose. In it, Rose found instructions and schedules for each of the four children: Evie, age four; Hamilton, age six; Kate, age eight; and Hogarth, age ten. Hogarth was an old family name, apparently. Rose had dug into the Walden family and discovered several other Hogarths going back six generations. According to the schedule, the two older kids had tennis and French lessons, while the two younger children were required to nap and make art. Every day was regimented. Rose was reminded ofThe Sound of Musicand wondered if she would find it within herself to break beyond the Walden boundaries and fuel life and beauty into the children’s lives. She imagined she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to get fired. She had everything to lose.
Mrs. Walden led Rose to the beach to discover all four children in their swimsuits. Evie and Hamilton kicked a soccer ball back and forth while Hogarth and Kate leaped over the waves. A large picnic of strawberries, baguettes, cheese, watermelon, and cured meats was spread across a blanket. A maid supervised them with herhands on her hips and bucked away as soon as Rose arrived.
Rose thought,They’re my problem now.
But that first day was magical.
As soon as Mrs. Walden disappeared inside to “make phone calls,” the four Walden children surrounded Rose, captivated by her, asking question after question.
“Where did you come from?” Kate asked.
“I’m from Mississippi,” Rose answered.
“Jackson,” Hogarth said, raising his chin with pride at having remembered the capital.
“No,” Rose said. “I’m from a tiny town called Carmack.”
“Carmack,” Hogarth repeated, furrowing his brow.
“You have a funny accent.” Evie sniggered.
Rose smiled nervously. She’d expected them to tease her for her Southern drawl and had even tried to practice it out of herself. She’d run out to the fields and woods outside of the little shack where she’d been raised and whispered to herself in what she assumed was a “northern accent.” But it was uncomfortable to speak like somebody else. She wasn’t very good at it.
