Page 63 of The Billionaire’s Nanny

Lucy wanted to ask whether Carrington had slept at all after she had left, but she stayed quiet and reached for the milk instead. Carrington opened the folder, drew a single sheet out of it, and read it through. From Lucy's side of the island, it was upside down: three typed lines and a signature underneath them. Lucy saw her own name on the third line. She had known what was on that sheet since the night Carrington asked her to move her things back to the cottage.

Grace came down at ten past seven, dressed, with one side of her hair still stuck up. She climbed onto the stool and pulled the bowl over.

"There's a lady coming today," Lucy said.

"To here?"

"Here this morning, and at your school after lunch. It's the same woman who came and talked to you in March."

Grace held the spoon and didn't say anything for a second. "Is she going to ask me about my favorite colors again?"

"She might."

"It's still teal," Grace said, and put the spoon back in the cereal.

Carrington looked up from the sheet. "Eat that before it goes soft."

"It's already soft."

"Then eat it anyway."

Grace swung her heel against the leg of the stool twice. Carrington didn't tell her to stop. Lucy worked the tangles out of Grace's hair with a brush and loosely braided it while she ate.

At eight, Carrington put her cup in the sink with some coffee still in it. "I'll be in the study until she comes," she said. "Ms. Harper."

"Ms. Cole."

Grace waved at her with the spoon.

They were out the door a few minutes later. On the coastal road, Grace wanted to know whether the aquarium had many octopuses or one octopus, and whether you were allowed to touch the sting rays. Lucy answered both questions. In the school drop-off line, Grace climbed out and hitched her bag onto both shoulders. She held on to the door instead of shutting it.

"Are you picking me up?"

"Yes, I'm picking you up," Lucy said.

Grace shut the door and walked in the school without turning around.

By the time she got back to the house, the gardeners had walked the mower off the front lawn and were loading the trailer. She sorted the mail into the drawer, straightened the chairs at the long table, and pulled the dead stems out of the arrangement in the hall. She wiped the marble twice. By half past nine, she had run out of things to do to keep her busy. The study door was shut. Through the door, Lucy heard Carrington say yes, and then yes again, and then go quiet for a long time.

At ten sharp, the gate buzzed. Lucy pressed the button in the hall, and the car came up the drive and stopped well back from the fountain.

Melinda Alvarez wore short heels and carried the same canvas bag she had with her in March, with a folder tucked under one arm. She shook Carrington's hand and then Lucy's.

"I'll take a look at the house and the cottage, then I'll sit down with you both. It shouldn't take long."

While she walked through each room, she wrote notes in a notebook braced on her forearm. She looked at the kitchen and the courtyard, then went up the stairs and stood just inside the door of Grace's room without touching anything.

"Does she sleep through the night yet?" Melinda asked.

"Yes," Carrington said. "She wakes up if there's bad weather or if she has a nightmare, but she goes back to sleep after a while."

"What does she eat in the morning?"

"Cereal, mostly. Toast if the chef makes it. She likes it cut in triangles."

Melinda’s pen kept moving.

"Who takes her to the doctor?"