“Any pet peeves I should be aware of ?”
“Yes, answering detailed questions and I’m not a big fan of oatmeal.” “Very funny; you gave me an hour remember.”
“Continue.”
“Is the security guard armed?”
“You have an interesting order to your questions, Annie.”
“No order. I just wrote them down…stream of consciousness.”
“The security guard is armed, but he is there mostly for privacy.”
“Mostly?” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Next question, Annie.”
“Is there anyone I need to be aware of that shouldn’t be on the grounds or around the boys?” I could tell he realized this was just a follow-up question to find out what “mostly” meant. He didn’t look annoyed that I didn’t let it go. Maybe he even respected my tenacity.
“Interesting question. Annie, you aren’t from here so let me share. My law firm works with many high-profile clients in corporate espionage and competitive intelligence. At times, the cases become highly publicized which puts me in the paper and on television. Occasionally, that attracts the attention of people I wish it wouldn’t, including the press. When they can’t reach our clients, they invade my privacy, which unfortunately brings the children into the public eye.”
“Do you have any weapons in the house? Guns, knives, hand grenades?”
“Seriously?”
“Well, partially seriously. Emmet, I am in charge of the safety of your children at least some of the time. I need to know what is around the house that is potentially dangerous. I’m doing my due diligence.” Due diligence—what daycare worker uses that kind of phrase? I need to practice being conversational…think daycare worker; kid-friendly communication.
Emmet cleared his throat before he answered. “Yes, I have weapons. They are all secure in my wall safe in my bedroom. I’ll show them to you if you like.”
“I don’t need to see them, thank you; just as long as they are locked up and out of sight.”
“As far as other dangers, realizing my boys can make anything dangerous, the only two inherent dangers are the pond at the back of the property and Romulus. The boys are never allowed at the pond without an adult and currently nobody cares for Romulus but me.”
“What’s a Romulus?”
Emmet’s quick burst of laughter startled me. “You didn’t notice the 130-pound Rottweiler in the breezeway yesterday?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No, he didn’t bark when I drove up and I didn’t see him out on the lawn at all.”
“He’s an attack dog, Annie,” Emmet said sternly. “He doesn’t bark and he doesn’t bound around the yard like the family pet. Once you hear him, it’s too late. I let him out at night at 10 p.m. and put him in at 6 am. He roams the grounds at night. If you have to go outside during that time, you will need to let me know. I should have told you about him last night. Come downstairs at 10:00 this evening, I’ll introduce you.”
“I’ll pass.”
“He will be friendly toward you when I am around,” he said, ignoring my protest. “But don’t ever forget he is an attack dog. Over time, I will help him get used to you. He is used to the boys of course, but they know not to try to play with him. He isn’t the family pet. For the record, Susan steers completely clear of him.”
I paused for a moment saying a prayer of thanks; I went running this morning at 6:15. “How do I reach you in an emergency?”
“Consternation over the dog?”
“No,” I smiled weakly. “It’s just the next question,” I said, tilting my paper toward him, though my body language contradicted my words.
“Cell phone. How many more questions are there?”
“That’s the last one actually. The others are for Susan. Could we spend the last fifteen minutes in your office? It would be helpful to have you point out where things are located.”
We both warmed our coffee and I followed Emmet to the office. He pointed out my in-box, his in-box, to be filed, where the mail goes, the checkbook, list of stores he has accounts with, list of logins and passwords, list of weekly errands, list of service providers…he had a list, file, or basket for everything; and everything had its place. Only the ‘to be filed’ basket had more than a few papers in it…and it was overflowing.
“I don’t file.” Emmet declared in explanation as he left his office.
After two hours of filing, the basket was empty. The most difficult task was matching health insurance EOB’s to the receipt from the doctor’s office. Tomorrow I would have to run the list of errands and pick up office supplies. Susan offered to come early and run errands with me. I planned to do some laundry for her…but first I had to see her room. Emmet’s comment made me curious.
It looked like a tornado had whipped through it, which was funny since she only stayed over when Emmet traveled. I tidied it a bit, but didn’t want to make my efforts too noticeable. The rest of the house was spotless…except the laundry room…Susan’s domain also. I spent about three hours doing laundry. I would tell her it was an equitable trade for her time tomorrow if I thought she was offended…better yet; I would just call it a trade…drop the word equitable.
I put away all the laundry I could, ending in Emmet’s room. His bedroom was much like his office; everything in its place. I’m sure he appreciated having his bed made military style—so you could bounce a quarter off it. His closet was extremely organized. It looked like the racks from a clothing store. Everything arranged by color. The towels in his closet were folded differently than the ones hanging. I spent a few minutes refolding the ones in his closet in thirds and then in half like the hanging ones.
Emmet was obviously very structured. Although it was comfortable for me because it was familiar…and I like structure…I was hopeful he wasn’t a control freak like Lawrence. I planned on asking Susan a lot of questions the next day…including why she steered clear of Romulus.
At 10 p.m. sharp Emmet took me outside to meet Romulus. I stood pressed against the back door yards from the breezeway while Emmet freed the beast. He waved me over—and I waved back resisting the risk of becoming dog food. It was a momentary delay to the inevitable, because Emmet and the killer walked toward me. Romulus’ continuous growl was replaced by an intrusive sniff when he reached me and completely invaded my personal space.
“Not a dog person,” I squeaked, focused on not wetting myself.
“Good boy,” Emmet said rubbing the dog’s head. Why did he feel the need to comfort the dog when I was panic-stricken? Wordlessly he took my arm and led me to the back lawn while Romulus followed suspiciously behind us. I stood like a mannequin for thirty minutes while Emmet exercised him by playing fetch. Finally torment time was over and Emmet led me back into the house.
“Tomorrow night, ten o’clock…goodnight, Annie.”
7
Susan came over at 10 am and we ran errands together. She’d been with the family for three years. She took over for the last nanny after Emmet’s wife, Marie, died. That seemed like an odd time to switch nannies, but she didn’t offer any more details and I didn’t ask.
She thanked me for my work in the laundry room and I shared it was the least I could do since she was spending the morning with me doing my work. I told her to let me know if she needed help with anything else, attempting to foster a team effort approach. Susan drove so I could make notes and program the addresses into my GPS. I admitted to Susan I suffered severely from “map-lexia,” and while I was in the mood to