Mountain Daddy's Nanny Read online

  She grabbed her purse and headed out of her bedroom and into the living area which opened out onto the kitchen. The cabin was small, but it was well decorated, and it felt cozy, warm, and homely. She had been there for three years, and she had stacked up her completed canvasses all down the sides of the walls, with some of them nailed up and taking pride of place amongst the gilded mirrors she had collected and put up to enhance the illusion of space.

  The cabin was wooden and rustic, but she had collected pieces that could only be described as opulent. Her taste was half country chic, and half renaissance. But somehow, it worked.

  Morgan filled up the kettle with water and set it on to boil, before she opened the refrigerator and pulled out some butter and some crusty bread from the cupboard.

  She sat down at her small dining table and began to eat as she flicked through one of her magazines she had left lying around. One of the main things she loved about living alone was she could explore her own tastes without having to answer to anyone, and she could also leave the place a little bit messy if she was too tired to clean up after a long day.

  She had stayed up until the early hours painting and creating, so there was still a ton of mess left over from that in the corner of the room. She had washed her brushes and placed them back into their holders, but her easels and canvasses were still all jumbled up in the corner, and the whole room smelled faintly of white spirit.

  She poured herself a big cup of coffee before she opened a window to let in some fresh air and shivered as she wrapped a scarf around her neck. It was cold up on the mountain, and even though she was nestled right at the foot of it, she could still feel the chill from the snow at the top, rolling down and rushing up against the cabin’s walls.

  When she had finished her coffee and tidied away her plates and work from the previous evening, she pulled on her thick padded snow coat and headed toward the front door. It was just past eight-thirty, and she had a ten-minute walk ahead of her to make it to the general store on time.

  “Best get going,” she whispered to herself as she stepped outside and into the bite of cold air.

  She reached behind her and pulled the door closed, before she locked it and started to walk up the path that led out of the forest and toward her parents’ house that was positioned proudly on the side of the road. She looked up toward the kitchen windows as she passed to see if her mother was visible in there, washing the dishes, or perhaps making a big pot of goulash for their evening meal, but the whole house seemed dark.

  She’s probably still in bed, Morgan thought. And who can blame her on a cold morning like this? All I want to do is wrap myself up warm and doze the day away.

  She headed down the country road that was lined with tall, full pine trees, and started on her way toward town. Wakestone Pines was always bustling and busy, and the locals were friendly, chipper, and some of the happiest people Morgan had ever met. In fact, it was one of the things she noticed the most about traveling to other places or states. Nowhere ever seemed to have the same kind of homely attitude that Wakestone did, and no one seemed as happy elsewhere.

  She remembered the last time she had visited the city, and how shocked she had been at how rude and confrontational all the people there seemed to be. She had been walked into and pushed, no one was happy, no one said good morning, and no one had even cracked a smile in her direction.

  Here, she could walk down the street, and even if the person she saw was a stranger, they would always smile and wish her a good day.

  As she approached Main Street, she pulled her arms around herself tightly, the bite from the breeze seemed to be getting worse and she kept her focus firmly on the warm glow of red from the paint on the exterior of the general store.

  Her heart sank a little when she thought of a full day trapped inside there, when all she truly wanted to be doing was making art and reveling in nature, but she knew she had to earn a living.

  She put her hand in her pocket and felt around for the key, before she slipped it into the lock and pushed the front door open. The alarm began to beep above her head and she dipped instinctively to the left and began to punch the numbers into the key pad to turn it off.

  “Four, five, seven, one…” she whispered to herself as she did it.

  The alarm beeped one last time, and then silence surrounded her.

  She rubbed her hands together and breathed into them. It was so cold in there, she honestly felt as if her legs were going to seize, and so she quickly made her way to the lights and heating, and turned it all on. The pipes began to rattle as they warmed up, and she sat behind the counter at the register, where she turned on another little bar heater for the time being while the room warmed up.

  There was a stack of admin for her to do, and what looked like a ton of messages waiting on the answering machine, no doubt from suppliers who were checking in at the end of the month to try and secure some last minute orders.

  Morgan found herself rolling her eyes.

  She would rather be anywhere but there.

  Her boss, Mr. Sweeney, was due in any moment, and she didn’t want to look as if she was slacking when he arrived, but all she could think about was a coffee. She looked over her shoulder toward the door that led to the kitchen and sighed as she realized she was just going to have to wait.

  If he walked in and saw that she was making herself coffee instead of throwing herself straight into her work, he wouldn’t be pleased.

  She reached toward the answering machine and pressed play. She may as well get it over with and find out what the hell half of these people wanted before Sweeney turned up. He would only sit next to her while she took messages and make her feel uncomfortable and as if he were judging her progress and capability.

  And she didn’t need that.

  Not now, not ever.

  “Morning Morgan,” Mr. Sweeney said as he came bumbling through the door twenty minutes later.

  Morgan looked up and smiled.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sweeney,” she said sweetly, and without a hint of sarcasm.

  He unwound his scarf from around his neck and hung it up on the coatrack, before he started to unbutton his big, thick parka. He was a short man, and quite plump, but he certainly made up for his shortcomings in attitude.

  Morgan had a stack of messages scrawled onto post-its that she had waiting for him, and as soon as he wandered around the back of the counter, she slid them toward him.

  “How has everything been so far?” he asked her with an air of superiority, as if he had to check in with her or the whole place would fall to shit.

  Morgan had to force herself not to roll her eyes. You would think they were saving lives, not supplying toiletries and homewares.

  “Absolutely fine,” she smiled. “I’ve checked out all of the messages, here they are.” She tapped the top of the stack of post-its. “And I’ve been working through yesterday’s invoices. There were a few that had come in from different suppliers, so I was just making sure they had all been paid.”

  Mr. Sweeney nodded his head and swept the stack of messages up into his short, stubby fingers.

  “You really should be documenting these properly,” he said as he looked at Morgan from over the top of the rim of his glasses. “Post-it notes aren’t exactly acceptable.”

  She bit her tongue and waited for the moment of retaliation to pass.

  It didn’t seem to matter what she did, or how she did it, it was always wrong in his eyes. She felt a headache coming on and she had to turn away.

  “I mean it, Morgan,” he said sternly. “We are running a business here, this isn’t last period before the bell rings! You need to be more on top of things.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, she had been taking notes in exactly the same way since the day she had started there, and now she was feeling her rage begin to snowball inside of her.

  Just take a breath and count to ten, she coached herself. Don’t snap, it’s what he wants. He is gunning for a fi
ght.

  Mr. Sweeney opened up his briefcase and began to pull out a selection of papers, some of which were small and notecard sized, and he placed them down on the counter in front of her.

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” he said degradingly. “Do you think you could manage to pin all of these new advertisements onto our noticeboard?” he smiled at her sinisterly and Morgan had to really fight to keep her cool.

  She was way above this. She had been sticking it out for as long as possible, but she was reaching her limit.

  “Sure,” she said without a hint of annoyance, as she picked up the papers and walked with them toward the front door.

  Behind her, she could hear him whistling, and even that was making her blood boil. She had been dreading going into work that day, but she had talked herself into it, she had focused on the positives of working in a job that didn’t require that much attention or discipline, just so she could fully focus on her artwork. But it seemed as if Mr. Sweeney was not that kind of boss. He liked being in charge, and he liked to feel superior. It was obvious he could see that Morgan was using him as a stopgap, and he was clearly going to make her life hell for it.

  She tapped her foot on the ground and tried to focus on the music filtering in through the stereo system, and not on the sounds of Mr. Sweeney whistling behind her as she reached up for the pins and started to fix up the notices one by one. With the store being in the center of town, it was the ideal place for residents to advertise, and it was always one of the tasks Morgan enjoyed the most. It was almost as if she were getting to know the people around her without ever having to meet them.

  She learned who were tutors in their spare time, who taught piano or Spanish on an evening, she learned who bred teacup chihuahuas and ragdoll kittens, she saw all of what was being put up for sale before anyone else, and she got first dibs on all the items. There had been one time when she had found the most amazing antique clock from one of the advertisements from a little old lady on the other side of town who was starting to clear out her house before she went to live with her daughter. Morgan had been delighted to find it, and it had inspired her love for all things opulent and old fashioned. She could check out upcoming yard sales, trucks going cheap, people advertising their services as gardeners, or housemaids. She even saw loggers looking for young apprentices to take up the mountain and get them started on what would no doubt turn into a lifelong career.

  It was small town life at it’s finest, but Morgan loved it. It let her know everything Wakestone Pines had to offer, and it also kept her feeling connected and proud of where she had come from. She shuffled the cards in her hands and looked at what was being advertised on that particular day…

  There was a new batch of Pug puppies for sale at extortionate prices which made her wince. She never understood the need for someone to go out and buy what was essentially a designer dog when there were plenty in the pound looking for good homes, but who was she to judge? There was also a new class starting at the town hall on a Wednesday evening, yoga and meditation for beginners…

  If Sweeney keeps pushing my buttons, I may need some of that calm in my life, she thought with a wry smile as she pinned it up onto the notice board. Behind her, she could hear him tutting and shuffling papers and it made her blood boil. She knew the moment that she had finished with the advertisements, he was going to be riding her again and making her feel worthless.

  She gritted her teeth and reached for the next notice. She looked down at it, and she almost didn’t read it because she was feeling so riled up, but as soon as she saw the elaborate handwriting, she stopped and took notice.

  NANNY REQUIRED

  A Nanny is urgently required to start work in Wakestone Pines. Local family, one child, good rate of pay available. Live in essential, accommodation provided. Please contact number below for further information.

  She turned it over in her hands and furrowed her brow. It was short and sweet, but the title had been written in calligraphy, and it made her wonder who on earth had written it. She stopped for a moment and read it again, and then she reached up and pinned it to the board before she stood back and looked at how distinguished it was from the rest of the advertisements. Whoever had written the notice, had some kind of talent. She smiled and turned back to face Mr. Sweeney who was watching her over the rim of his glasses, one hand resting on his hip as if he was about to challenge her again.

  She tried not to look startled and she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

  “All done,” she said cheerily. “Can I make you a coffee?”

  Sweeney eyeballed her and shook his head.

  “There’s plenty to be done over here,” he said sternly. “Coffees and early morning breaks can wait.”

  Morgan had to fight the urge to snap, but she was finding it more difficult by the second. This man had come in with an attitude, and it was obvious he wasn’t going to stop until he got the reaction he was looking for.

  Morgan glared at him, and then she marched past him and his slackening jaw as she headed straight into the kitchen at the back of the store.

  “Morgan!” he called after her. “Morgan, come back here!”

  She ignored him and went straight toward the kettle which she ripped out of its holder and began to fill with water. Her heart was racing, and she felt full of rage, but she was determined she wasn’t going to be the first one to break. She was going to let him shout first and let him be the one to massively lose his cool.

  She plugged the kettle back in and turned it on to boil, and then she turned to face him as he came blustering into the room and folded her arms across her chest.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked her with exasperation. “I told you this wasn’t the time, I forbid you to make a drink. Get back out there onto the shop floor and do what you’re told.”

  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You forbid me to make a drink? Are you actually serious?”

  Mr. Sweeney was flustered, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish as he was trying to find the right words to hurl at her. She could see the vein on his temple throbbing, and his face was becoming redder by the second. He looked like he was about to explode, but Morgan held her ground and stared back at him, challenging him to come at her again.

  “I order you to go back onto the shop floor,” he said sternly and through gritted teeth. “And if you don’t do as you’re told, then I’ll be firing you for gross misconduct.”

  “Oh, please,” Morgan rolled her eyes. “As if you could.”

  She laughed as she walked past him and marched back to the counter where she picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

  “And anyway, you don’t need to fire me… because I quit. I hated this shitty job anyway.”

  She smirked as she saw the look of horror and panic flash across Sweeney’s face before she turned and headed toward the front door. He was standing so still it was as if he had turned to stone, and his eyes were wide and nervous as she stopped by the notice board, reached up and ripped down the advert for the Nanny position.

  “Morgan,” he said with fire in his voice. “If you walk out of here, you’re not welcome to come back.”

  “Boo hoo,” she said, as she opened the door and stepped out into the cold mountain air. She looked back over her shoulder at him and flipped him the bird.

  Sweeney could go and screw himself. She didn’t need him or that negativity in her life. She would find something else, rather than selling her soul to the devil.

  She looked down at the card in her hands and felt a rush of hope.

  It was time to start a new chapter, and hopefully, with her early access to the advert, she would be ahead of the competition.

  3.

  Morgan paced up and down the cabin with her arms crossed over her chest, and her breathing rapid and fierce. She was so angry, but she knew she had to let it go. Men like Mr. Sweeney were only after trouble, and she had managed to remain relatively calm
until she had told him to shove his job.

  She chewed her bottom lip and sighed.

  “Everything will be fine,” she said with a shrug. “You have a home, and you might be able to find something else on Main Street soon enough…”

  She sat down on the couch and looked toward her purse. Her mind was swimming with possibilities, and she didn’t know in which direction to turn… But all she could think about was the advertisement she had ripped from the wall when she had stormed out of the general store.

  Nanny Required.

  She could still picture the elaborate swoop of the lettering and of how it had stood out from everything else that day.

  She reached for her purse and pulled it onto her knee, before she dipped her hand inside and pulled the notecard free. She found herself staring into space but tracing her fingertips over the words and imagining what kind of family was advertising this job that sounded too good to be true. No job in Wakestone Pines was what you could describe as ‘good pay’, and the fact that accommodation was included only sweetened the deal.

  “You could get out of here for a while,” she contemplated as she looked out of the window toward her parents’ house.

  The moment they heard that she had told Mr. Sweeney to screw himself and quit in an explosion of fury, she knew they were going to make her life miserable. She could almost hear them moaning about it already, and about how Mr. Sweeney was a longstanding member of the community and that she would have to go and apologize. But Morgan was never going to do that, her parents hadn’t seen how badly he had treated her, and she didn’t want to get into arguments with them, so she was just going to have to try and find something else as quickly as possible.

  Without giving it another thought, she pulled her cellphone out of her bag and began to type in the number on the advertisement. As she held the phone to her ear and listened to the dial, she almost lost her nerve and hung up, but the line was answered on the third ring.