“What is the saying?” he says with a small smile. “It’s a tough job . . .”
“But someone’s got to do it.” I’m super glad that someone is me because I, Holly Harper, love my job. In fact, I love it more than I love hanging out with old(er) people. I get to spend time with the two most polite and well-behaved tween-agers in the world, who belong to the nicest couple in the world, all while getting to travel the world.
“How fabulous! It sounds like you’re getting to see lots of Europe.” As she speaks, Lukas turns to his wife, all soft, loving looks as he takes her hand. Though the pair are from Sweden, Annika looks more Mediterranean than Scandinavian, her hair as dark as his is fair, small and curvy to his lean sharpness.
“It certainly feels fabulous.” Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am just the hired help. The nanny technically, for an ex-pat American family. Though I have a degree in education as well as enough experience working in the US schooling system to know a job like this is one to hang on to.
“Do you like living in London?”
“Oh, I do. It’s so cosmopolitan. I love the history of the place. The quaint street names, museums, and palaces. It’s great, and at the same time, it’s kind of edgy.”
Take the boutique hotel we’re sitting in, all dark wood and steel set in a quiet, leafy corner of the city. London is full of secret spots such as this. One minute, you’re being jostled on the sidewalk by tourists and commuters, and the next, you find yourself in an atmospheric cobblestoned lane. There might be baskets brimming with flowers hanging from ancient brick walls, or a cute boutique or book shop with mullioned windows and a crooked front door that are probably hundreds of years old. Every spot is like a tiny oasis of cool. And perfect fodder for my Instagram feed.
“We also love London,” Lukas adds. “Also Paris.”
“And Rome.” This from Annika, albeit a touch wistfully.
“Have you visited Amsterdam?” I’ve already been to Paris and Rome a couple of times. “I really want to visit.” A tingle of excitement rolls down my spine at the prospect of ticking another destination off my list. Instead of Amsterdam being in Holland, it’ll be the other way around! Though I go by Holly, Holland is my name. So, yep, I’ve already thought up my Instagram post!
Once upon a time, I was the girl whose fridge was covered in honeymoon brochures of places I’d never been. While my original travel plans didn’t come to fruition, I’m now making travel memories all of my own. And I like to post those high spots on Instagram. The way I see it, Instagram is the new postcard, and I like to be sure the folks back home know I’m enjoying myself. Even if the folks back home are the last people on earth I’d ever mail postcards to. My sister says it isn’t folks I’m trying to prove a point to but myself. But she says a lot of things that make no sense.
“We’ve visited Amsterdam many times.” Annika languidly flicks her dark hair over her shoulder, revealing high, luminous cheekbones. She has the kind of skin most thirty-year-olds would kill for, though she’s certainly older than that. Exactly how old is hard to tell. Not that it matters; they both possess the kind of vitality that’s super attractive. I don’t mean the hubba-hubba kind of attractive, though I guess they are. What’s more attractive to me is the life they’ve lived. The stories they have to tell. “What is it about the place that appeals to you?”
You mean, apart from being named Holland? I crack myself up sometimes.
“It just looks so pretty,” I answer with a shrug. “The first thing I’m going to do when I finally get there is hire a cute pink bike with a basket on the front.” Which I’ll fill with bunches of tulips because I might be a little addicted to the ’gram. “Then I’m going to go exploring”—after I’ve taken the perfect image of me with said bike and said tulips—“and ride along the canals with the wind in my hair until my cheeks hurt from smiling and my legs feel like Jell-O.”
“Annika and I also enjoy a ride.” Despite Lukas’s even delivery, there’s a sudden note of something in his voice that makes me pause. “And a good ride is something I always strive for because it also makes Annika’s legs, as you say, turn to Jell-O.”
Riiight.
And why is his hand rubbing her thigh now?
“Darling, don’t embarrass our new friend.” My head jerks up at Annika’s playful chastisement. “Just be sure to take a raincoat,” she adds smoothly, amusement sparkling in her gaze as she takes in my burning cheeks.