“Shit. Shit-shit-shit.” I said the word over and over again as I made my way through the crowd, trying to spot Willa’s blonde hair among the people.
But I couldn’t. The crowd at the counter was too thick, and between them and the people coming and going I could hardly move. It was more like being packed into a subway car at rush hour than any bakery I’d ever been to.
Time passed, and I still couldn’t find Willa. I was getting desperate. I gently got the attention of a few of the people around me, asking them if they’d seen a little blonde girl anywhere. But not one of them had.
It was a nanny’s worst nightmare, losing their kid. My eyes were wide, my heart thumping as I tried to spot her.
“Will!” It didn’t do me any good.
I was getting more panicked by the second.
Then, just when I’d lost hope, the crowd in front of the window parted enough for me to see out through to the other side.
Willa was there. And she was speaking with someone, someone I couldn’t see past the window.
“Excuse me!” I turned my body sideways and snaked through the crowd, the fresh air hitting me the moment I finally got out of the bakery.
Willa was there all right, and she was talking to someone.
She was talking to Anton.
I froze, for a moment convinced I was seeing things. But it was Anton, for sure, dressed in a dark suit, his hands on his knees as he bent over to speak to Willa. And he had something in his hand, something I couldn’t make out. Without thinking twice, I hurried over and protectively put my hand on Willa’s shoulder. She jumped slightly as I did.
“Will! I just talked to you about running off!”
Anton smiled as he laid eyes on me, as if he’d been expecting to see me there.
“I’m sorry, April, but I saw Mr. Cutter. We know each other—he works with my dad.”
“Please,” he said, his tone and expression warm. “Willa, I’ve known you since you were a little baby—you don’t need to call me ‘Mr. Cutter.’ ‘Anton’ is fine. Or, even better, you can call me ‘Uncle Anton’ just like your dad used to do when he was your age.”
“Wait, you knew my dad when he was a little kid?”
“I sure did. I was really good friends with your grandpa. I helped him found the company your dad runs.”
“Wow,” said Willa, clearly impressed.
“April,” Aton said turning to me. “I take it you are Willa’s newest nanny?”
Willa beamed with pride. “She sure is, and April’s my favorite!”
“Well, it’s quite a pleasure to meet you, April. The favorite,” He chuckled with a hint of
amusement splayed over his features. “That’s quite impressive.”
“Yes, quite.” My response was abrupt, and I eyed him skeptically. “What brings you here, Mr. Cutter?” I asked, not wanting to screw around.
“Getting some cookies, of course,” he said. He raised his hand, and in it was a small white package of paper, a few cookies sticking out of the top. “Willa was having a little trouble in line, so I helped her out.”
“He did!” said Willa, excited. “He just, like, looked at the guy at the counter and told him what he wanted and the guy got them right away. We didn’t even have to pay. And the guy looked really scared for some reason.”
“That’s one way to get cookies,” I said as Anton and I exchanged glances. He looked proud of himself. This man had no shame.
Anton smiled at Willa and handed the cookies to her. “These are for you. Peanut butter and chocolate—you know, those were your dad’s favorite, too.”
“Really?” asked Willa. “Dad never eats stuff like this. He says sugar’s bad for you.”
“He might be right,” said Anton. “But nothing wrong with a little treat every now and then.”