‘How soon do you think you’ll be able to get me a nanny to replace Cindy until her leg’s healed?’ he asked.
‘I really don’t know, Mr Wallis. It depends how quickly my staff recover. It might be a week, or it might be a fortnight.’
Although Jamie really wanted to shout at Felicity in utter frustration, he knew that would be counter-productive. Fran had always said you caught more flies with honey. His late wife had always been more patient with people than he had; he found it hard to be charming in the face of sheer incompetence. ‘This is going to be very difficult for me,’ he said, resisting the urge to twist the guilt by reminding Felicity that he was a single father and didn’t have anyone to take up the slack. ‘But could you please call me as soon as someone’s available?’
‘Of course, Mr Wallis. Thank you for being so understanding.’
He forbore to comment, not trusting himself to stay polite.
And now he had a problem. A big one. An unspecified time—anything between a few days and a couple of months—without a nanny, and even when someone became available it might not be for the whole period that Cindy was away. He was in the middle of setting up a new resort, so he simply couldn’t take the best part of the next few weeks off work to look after Sienna. He’d trusted the agency to deal with any situation like this, and they’d let him down. Badly.
What the hell was he going to do?
It was rare that he found himself in a situation where he wasn’t in complete control, and he hated the feeling of being helpless.
Sophie Firth was sitting in the reception area outside his office. Right now, they were both in a mess. She needed someone to invest in her business quickly so she could afford to buy out her partner; and he needed a nanny for the next few weeks.
He could maybe help her—especially as Eva was his late wife’s cousin and he ought to support his family—but right now he needed to focus on sorting out his immediate problem. He was going to have to turn her down.
He took a deep breath and went out to the reception area. ‘Miss Firth, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘That’s fine,’ she said.
He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry—I can’t help you right at this minute. Something’s cropped up and I need to deal with it.’
* * *
Just as Sophie had expected. She needed Plan C. Disappointment still flooded through her. He wasn’t even going to be honest and say he wasn’t interested.
Something’s cropped up.
And to think he’d called her on being vague.
Then again, there was something akin to desperation in his eyes—as if something had happened and he didn’t have a clue how to deal with it. From the research she’d done on his company, she knew he was a shrewd businessman; his company had grown from strength to strength in the last few years, and even the death of his wife hadn’t affected the business. What could have happened to throw him like this?
Before she could stop herself, the words came out. ‘Are you all right?’
He looked at her in shock. ‘How do you mean?’
‘You look,’ she said, ‘as if someone just dropped something on you from a great height.’
‘You could say that.’ He sighed. ‘It’s my problem. I have to deal with it.’
But he sounded as if he didn’t have the faintest clue where to start.
This was none of her business. She had enough of a problem herself. She should just walk away. Instead, she found herself asking, ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something?’
She cringed even as the words came out. It was his office, not hers. What she was saying was totally inappropriate.
But he smiled at her. The first real smile she’d seen from him. And it made her knees weak.
‘That’s kind,’ he said.
‘And inappropriate. Sorry.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s kind,’ he repeated. ‘But at the moment tea isn’t going to help.’ He looked at her. ‘Given your business, you must know people in lots of different career areas. I don’t suppose you know any nannies, do you?’
‘Nannies?’
‘That call just now was from the agency which supplies the nanny who looks after my daughter. Cindy—our nanny—broke her leg last week when she was on a skiing trip. And the agency has nobody available to stand in for her right now.’
So he needed childcare help?
Maybe she could turn this into a win-win situation.
‘So I need someone to invest in Plans & Planes, and you need a nanny.’
He looked at her. ‘Yes.’
‘Maybe,’ she said carefully, ‘there’s a solution that will work for us both. A business solution.’
‘You know a nanny?’
‘Not exactly.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What type of hours are we talking about?’
‘Sienna’s at nursery school five days a week, nine to four-thirty.’
Long hours for a little one, she thought. ‘So your nanny takes her to nursery school, picks her up, and that’s it?’
‘And works evenings and weekends.’
So when did Jamie Wallis spend time with his daughter? she wondered.
More to the point, it made her own half-formed plan unworkable. Time management was one of her best skills, but even she couldn’t cram an extra twenty-four hours into a day. ‘Can that be negotiable?’ she asked.
‘How?’
What was the worst he could do? Say no. Which was pretty much what she thought he’d say anyway. She had nothing to lose—and potentially a lot to gain. And she wasn’t afraid of hard work.
‘I could be your temporary nanny,’ she said, ‘and you could invest in my business.’
He stared at her. ‘You’re a qualified nanny?’
‘Not a qualified nanny,’ she said. ‘But my parents’ next-door neighbours own a nursery school, and during sixth form I had a part-time job there—Wednesday afternoons, when I didn’t have lessons, and two hours after school on the other weekdays. So I have experience of working with under-fives. Even if it was ten years ago. Plus I have a four-year-old niece and a two-year-old nephew, and I’m a very hands-on aunt.’
‘Define “hands-on”.’
‘I see them every week. I babysit, so I do everything from playing to craft stuff and singing. I do bathtime, bedtime stories and the park.’ She looked at him. ‘I sometimes have to work with children as part of an event, so I—and all my staff—have an up-to-date Disclosure and Barring Service check certificate. And I’m happy to give you Anna’s details so she can give you a reference from my time at the nursery school.’
* * *
A quid pro quo.
Sophie Firth wasn’t a qualified nanny, but she was the next best thing.
‘So you’d give up your job for the next two months?’ he asked.
‘No. That’s why I asked about compromise,’ she said. ‘My business partner is leaving in six weeks’ time.