Then, eventually, it’s the night before my first day. And it’s too late to back out.
* * *
Sophia— I’m really sorry to do this, but I have to run into the office early and I can’t be at the house to meet you this morning. Penelope’s fine on her own for a short while, though, and she’ll be happy to show you around. The secret password is “bubblegum.” (Penelope’s idea.) Please call if you have any concerns.
I’m almost done getting ready when I see the text from Lucas. And even though the change in plans doesn’t help my nerves, I send him a calm reply back:No worries. Thanks for the update.
Twenty minutes later, I’m parking outside their house, trying to mentally prepare myself for the day ahead.
When I walk up to the house and knock on the door, I hear a set of small footsteps approach from the other side. Then a young voice calls out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Sophia,” I call through the door.
“What’s the password?”
“Bubblegum.”
“And the second password?”
Second password? Oh, shit.
“Um…” I say. Should I make a guess? Rainbow? Unicorn?
But then the door opens up.
“Just kidding,” says Penelope, grinning. “There’s no second password.”
I laugh. “Okay. Whew.”
Penelope cocks her head to the side and studies me. “So you’re my new nanny?”
“I am,” I say. “My name’s Sophia. I guess I said that already. So, uh...did your dad tell you anything about me?”
“A little bit,” she says. She opens the door wider and steps back to let me in. “You don’t have to take your shoes off if you don’t want to. But if you do, you can put them right there.”
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks.” I take my shoes off and glance around. Their home is cozy and bright. “So…what do you want to do, Penelope?”
She shrugs. “Do you want to see the rest of the house?”
“Sure,” I say.
She smiles. “Then follow me.”
I don’t know what it is about Penelope, but I don’t feel as awkward around her as I normally do around kids. Maybe it’s because she seems so grown-up. She’s so polite and funny and smart. As she shows me around the house, she adds her own little commentary, like, “That’s the coffee table my dad always bangs his shin into,” and “When I was four, I drew on the wall right there, but it’s painted over now.”
By the end of her tour, I feel like I know the house inside and out.
But I still don’t know a ton about Penelope, so I ask her what her favorite things are to do. She says reading, art, making up dances, and hanging out with her friends.
“Cool,” I say. “Well…should we do one of those things? Maybe some art?”
“Yeah, that sounds fun,” she says.
“Want to show me where your art supplies are?”
She grins. “Wait until you see all the stuff I have.”
* * *