The Nanny Diaries Part 28

"DoyouhaveanyScotch?" Mr. X asks.

"Winewouldbegreat," Mrs. Xsays,smiling.

"Red?White?"

"Whatever you're having,"Mrs. Xsays. "Where aretheother girls?"

"Setting the table. Would you excuse me? I'm just going to finish getting dinner together," Caroline says.

"Wouldyoulikeanyhelp?" I ask.

"Actually,that'dbegreat,if youdon't mind."

Jack and Mr. X go outside to do manly things with the barbecue, while we follow Caroline into the kitchen, where Lulu and Katie, ages eightand six, are sitting at thetable, rolling up napkins and putting theminrings.

"Nanny!" They leap up as soon as I come in, throwing their arms around me, much to Mrs. X's chagrin.

I pickup Katieandquicklydipher backward,holdingontoherlegs,thengive Luluherturn.

"Wouldyoumindtossingthesalad?" Carolinehandsoffthebowland aMasonjarfull of dressing.

"Not atall."AsI startflippingthelettuceI noticethesweet aroma of apie baking.

"WhatcanI do?" Mrs. Xasks.

"Oh,nothing.I wouldn't wantyoutoruinyourbeautifulcoat."

"Honey?"We hearJackcalling fromthebackyard.

"Lu, wouldyourunoutsideandseewhatDadwants?"Thelittlegirl comes runningback a secondlater.

"Hesays thegrill's ready."

"Okay,will youcarrythesteaksouttohim,butbecarefulor we're all having grilledcheesefordinner."

Lulupicks upthemetaltrayandwalksslowlytothedoor,star-ingintentlyatthepileofmeat.

"Wherearethekidseating?" Mrs. X askscasually.

"With us."

"Oh,ofcourse,"shesays,covering.

"I wantedtoask you afavor," Carolinesays, circlingtheislandtoputherhandonMrs. X's arm.

"Of course,anything."

"I have a friend from college coming out next week. She's getting divorced and moving back to New York fromL.A. andI wonderifyouwouldn't mindtakingherunderyourwing abit." , "Not atall?

"It's just thatbeing up inWestchester I can't do as much to introduce her around as I'd like.Also, if you know a goodrealestateagent,she's lookingfor a place."

"Well, there's athree-bedroominourbuildingthat's onthemarket."

"Thanks,butshe's lookingfor astudio.It's a horriblesituation?eventhoughher ex-husbandwastheone c-h-e-a-t-i-n-g, none of the a.s.sets were in his name. He's incorporated or some c.r.a.p, and she's gotten nothing."

Mrs. X's eyes widen. "That'sterrible."

"So anythingyoucandotohelp, I'd reallyappreciate. I'll callyouwhenshegets here."

When we all get to the table, I'm charmed to see that the girls have made place cards by taking leaves and writing our names on them in silver pen in three markedly different handwritings. Katie and Lulu have asked to have me seated between them, while Mrs. X is placed between Grayer and Ellie and spendsmuchofthemealcutting meatandansweringEllie's questionsabouther coat.

Ferdie comes over andstartswhimpering forsc.r.a.psatJack's feet.

"We had aretriever whenI was aboy," Mr. Xsays, spooningmustardontohis secondsteak.

"Ferdie's a local, actually," Caroline says. "One of the top breeders lives just down the road, if you're thinkingofgetting a puppy?

"Thisis sucha fabuloushouse,"Mrs. Xsays, changingthesubjecta.s.sheplays with hersalad.

"It wasbuiltbyCaroline's grandfather," Jacksays.

"With hisown twohands,nonails, inthedriving rain,ifyoubelieve him,"shelaughs.

"You should see the overpriced beach shack mywife picked out. We'll be luckyif the roof doesn't blow off," Mr. Xlaughs,corninhis teeth.

"So,Nanny,whereareyouinschool?"Jackturnstome.

"NYU. justgraduatedonFriday,actually."

"Congratulations!" Hesmiles atme, while b.u.t.tering another ear of corn for Lulu. "So,haveyou figured outyourplans fornextyear?"

"You're such a dad." Caroline laughs at him across the table. "You don't have to answer that, Nanny." Shestandsup. "Whowantspie?"

"ME!ME!" thelittleHornersandGrayer all shout.

As soon as the door swings behind her I stand to clear, but Jack stops me. "Come on," he mock-- whispers. "She's gone.Whatareyour plans?"

"I'm going to be the program a.s.sociate of a children's organization in Brooklyn," I tell him in a stage whisper.

"Honey!" heshouts. "It's okay! Shehas a plan!"

Carolinecomes backin,smiling, with a cartonoficecreamandninebowls.

"Jack,you're hopeless."Sheputsdownthecartonandthebowls. "Lulu,will youtakecoffeeorders?"

A gracious hostess, Carolineserves both pies, but there's little demand for thecold oneinthealuminum dish.

"Mommy, I want a guinea pig," Grayer says sleepily from his car seat. He's out almost immediately and theXesbeginrehas.h.i.+ngtheevening, asI trytofind acomfortable waytoslumpbeneaththecanoe.

"Hewastellingme bythebarbecuethathe's managedtoexpandintotwelve newmarketsthis year? Mr.

Xis impressedwithJack's businessac.u.men.

"You know". heturns slightlytoward him, putting herhandonhis arm?I wasthinkingI couldgoback with youonThursday. ecouldhave a romanticweekendinthecity."

He pulls his arm away as he makes a left turn. "I told you, it'll just be a lot of client entertaining. You'd beboredoutof yourmind."Heplugsinhis cellphoneanddials withhis freehand.

Shepulls her Filofaxout andflipsthroughtheempty pages. "Nanny,one thingI wouldliketomention? shecalls backreprovingly.

"Yes," I say, startingtonodoff.

"I'm not sure if it's appropriate for you to monopolize the dinner conversation. Just something I'd like youtobe alittle moreawareof fromnowon."

Darling, I. e gone over to the Sterns?for tea. I. l be back by five. Just a thought ?if you have to go, why not see if you can come back to the island early Sunday morning, becauseh the Horners have invitedusover forbrunch.

Have a greatmatch!

Love you.

Ihopeyourgolfgamewentwell. Incaseyou. e worried if I. l be lonely Caronlinehas offered to keepmecompanywhile you. egone,sodon. worryaboutme. Althoughthey. equitebusy,but I. sureother peoplewill thinkofme.

Seeyouattheclubatsix. Love you.

Darling,I didn. wanttowakeyoufromyournap?I. goingintotown.

I called the rental agent and she said that it. really pretty safe out here. She said she. be surprised if anything happened to Grayer or me while we. e here all by ourselves, so please don. spendyourtime inthecity worrying aboutus all thewayuphere.

Wednesday night, on the eve of Mr. X's departure, the three of us sit waiting in the Rover for Mrs. X. The original plan was to leave Grayer and myself home for the evening "to relax," while they had dinner at II Cognilio with the Longacres. But when they came home to change, Grayer screamed hysterically until Mr. X insistedthattheybringhimalong,sohewould,quote, "shutup."

After five straight days of running a virtual day-care center for all of the Xes' friends on at most five hoursof sleep anight,I starttonodoffa.s.soonasI slumpdownunderthecanoe.

Mr. X jerks the cell phone away from his head. "We're going to lose the reservation. o see what's takingher solong."I openthecardoorjustasMrs. Xteetersoutontothegravel onuncharacteris!

tically high heels, clad in a strapless black dress with a red cashmere wrap around her s.h.i.+vering shoulders. Mr. Xbarelyglances atherbeforestartingthecar.

"Honey, what time do you want me to drive you to the airport tomorrow?" she asks, pulling on her seat belt.

"Don't bother.'m takingthesixA.M. flight. I'll justcall acab."

"I wanttoflywithDaddy."Grayer,hungryand,ofcourse, napless,beginstosquirminhis ca.r.s.eat.

"Mrs. X?Um, you didn't get a chanceto see if you broughtanymosquito bite stuff,did you?" myvoice echoesfrombeneaththecanoe.

"No,areyoustill beingbitten?I justdon't understand it. Noneof ushas anybites."

"Doyouthinkitmightbepossibleformetoruninto a drugstoreandgrabsomeAfterBite?"

"I reallydon't thinkwe havetime."Sheretouch.e.s.h.er lipstickintheyellowlightofthevisormirror.

I give my leg a good going-over through my pants. I am on fire. The itch is so bad it's keeping me awakeonthealternatehours Grayeror Mr. X isn't snoring.I just.Wanttogo.To adrugstore.

After a tensetwenty-minutedrive we pullinto theparkinglot/ gift shopof thefamous restaurantwhose annual signature T-s.h.i.+rt, featuring a rabbit in silhouette, is a bizarre, nationwide status symbol. Of courseI wantone. Mrs. X ushers us into the restaurant, a glorified bait-and-tackle shop that serves up twenty-five-dollar bowls ofpasta onsplinteredtables.

"Darling, how are you?" Mrs. X is accosted by a woman with large, blond hair that looks as if it could stand up to the fiercest Nan-tucket wind. "You're so dressy, my G.o.d, I feel like a b.u.mpkin." She pulls herAquaScutumbarnjacketcloser aroundher.

Themen shakehandsandMrs. XintroducesGrayer. "Grayer,youremember Mrs. Longacre?"

Mrs. Longacre absentmindedly pats his head. "He's getting so big. Honey, let's get our table." We are shown to a drafty corner table and handed a green booster seat, which Grayer tries to squeeze himself into.

"Mrs. X,I thinkit's toosmall."

"Nonsense."She looks over at him sitting sideways, strainingto fit his whole tushyin the seat. "Go see iftheyhave a phonebook."

I finally unearth three filthy Nantucket directories and slip them under his derriere, while the adults order c.o.c.ktails. I pull crayons out of my bag and start telling Grayer a story, ill.u.s.trating on the paper tableclothasI go.

"Well, of course, I love it up here, but I don't know how I'd do it without my fax," Mrs. Longacre says. "I don't know how people went anywhere before the fax and the cell phone, I really don't. I'm putting together a small dinner for a hundred people for the week we get back. You know, I planned Sh.e.l.ly's entire weddingfromherelastsummer."

"I know, I wish I'd thought of bringing ours from home," Mrs. X says, adjusting the wrap around her naked shoulders. "I'm waiting to hear from the board if they're letting me buy one of the studios on the secondfloor."

"Your buildingha.s.studios?"

"Well, they were all maids' quarters originally and most are owned by people who have larger apartments in the building. I'd love to have someplace for a little private time, you know? I'm just so torn when Grayer's home. I want to be with him, but sometimes I need to get things done for my committee work."

"Oh, honey, cheers to that! Our eldest daughter just did the same thing. he has two kids and needed someplacewhereshecoulddoherown thing,butstill becloseenoughtobeinvolved. I thinkit's agreat idea."

The waitress comes over with the six drinks on a tray just as a small child goes whizzing by her at knee height,nearlyknockingthreehighb.a.l.l.sontoMrs. X's head.

"Aaaan-drew... CometoMommmyyy."We hear aplaintive voice whineasthehumantumbleweedfliesundertablesandbetweendiners.

Themattre d'lookspleadinglyattheoblivious parents,willing themtodisciplinetheirchild.

"Oh,honey,isn't thattheCliftons?" Mrs. Xexcusesherselftogoover andkiss cheeks.

"Nanny,drawme a chicken,"Grayer asks,while themen comparethisweek's golfscores.

"Isn't that great?" she says, sitting back down. "They're here with their son, so I toldAnne that Nanny would take everyone out to the parking lot until the food comes." Everyone?Am I to lead Mrs. Clifton in arousingrenditionof "Michael,RowYour BoatAsh.o.r.e" bytheDumpster?

I pull myself out of my seat and take Grayer and the whirling dervish out into the cold, dark, sandy parking lot to play. They climb up and down a piece of oiled driftwood a few times and then Andrew suggestsmakingdirt angels.

"Yeah, no. How about we wash hands before the food comes?" I try to steer them back inside toward theladies'room.

"No!"Andrewshouts. "I'm a boy. I'm notusingsomegirl's toilet. Noway."