Wednesday, June 1
NESSA WOKE TO the sounds of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony out back. She got dressed, then went downstairs, poured herself a cup of coffee, and looked out the window above the sink. Daltrey stood on a pallet in the backyard conducting an invisible orchestra using a wooden spoon as a baton, all dressed and shiny clean. Nessa walked out the back door and found Isabeau Revie, her freshly hired nanny, playing air violin on the grass in the morning light, heedless of the heavy dew soaking her jean shorts. She wore a Firefly tank top, her long blond hair in a careless ponytail.
Daltrey ran to Nessa and hugged her knees before returning to his conducting post, waving the spoon in the air, a look of concentration and seriousness on his face.
“You need to get him a cardigan and a pipe and a subscription to The Economist,” Isabeau shouted over the music, which came from portable speakers connected to her phone.
A burst of pure laughter overcame Nessa, the first natural one she’d experienced since John’s departure. Isabeau sat there grinning, looking pleased and surprised, and Nessa realized Isabeau probably thought she was a grim, humorless harridan.
“Maybe a little paste--on beard until he can grow one himself,” Isabeau added. “Which should be any day now.”
Nessa laughed more, and Daltrey smiled. She knew he hadn’t heard her laugh much lately either. She needed to make more of an effort to lighten up for his sake.
“We already had breakfast,” Isabeau said. Always smiling and enthusiastic, Isabeau was an engineering grad student from New Mexico who was four years younger than twenty--five--year--old Nessa and six inches taller.
She hadn’t been what Nessa thought she was looking for when she was first compelled to hire a nanny. Marlon had recommended Isabeau, one of his research assistants at Kansas State who needed a summer job. Nessa had wanted an efficient, impersonal warm body who would be in the house while Daltrey slept and Nessa was working.
But Daltrey had foiled this plan. He’d fallen in love with Isabeau at first sight—-with her wide--set brown eyes and ever--present smile, coltish energy, and soft musical voice. He wasn’t interested in anyone else, so Nessa was stuck with a warm, engaging personal--space invader who obviously believed they were all going to be besties. Luckily, she hadn’t yet noticed that Nessa never offered up any personal information. Isabeau shared everything about herself without reservation. Even worse, Isabeau had mad organizational skills that made Nessa’s life easier in ways she never could have imagined.
Isabeau’s laptop sat open atop its case on the ground in front of her, one of her long legs extended out to the side, against which Declan MacManus had been lying until Nessa appeared. Now he trotted to her and presented himself for a good butt rub.
“Let’s go over your schedule for the rest of the week,” Isabeau said. She typed on her keyboard. “Okay, so here’s what I’ve got. Daltrey has a doctor’s appointment at eleven this morning. Is it for vaccinations, or—-”
“I told you you don’t need to do this stuff,” Nessa said, setting her coffee cup down on the steps and leaning over to pull some weeds from the flower garden. She didn’t want to talk about why she was taking Daltrey to the doctor again. She was embarrassed by her frantic worry over Daltrey’s muteness.
She suspected it was because of all the turmoil in their lives, the violence he’d witnessed when John was in a manic phase of his bipolar disorder. She also suspected that her past addictions and risky behaviors had something to do with it, although she’d never mentioned these things to the doctor. She knew she should but, to her shame, she’d hoped a more mundane explanation would come to light.
“But it’s easier for me if I know exactly what’s going on and when.”
Isabeau had gone from nanny to personal assistant while Nessa was preoccupied with grief over the end of her marriage. There was no point in fighting it. Isabeau was a force of nature.
She continued reading from her screen. “I fact--checked your blog post on Wanda Jackson. She was amazing! I’d never even heard of her before that—-surprise, surprise. I’ll send you a text when that’s done so you can look it over one last time before it auto--posts at nine tomorrow. Then I’ll work some more on cataloging your music library.”
Nessa went on pulling stray shoots of grass and weeds from the flower bed.