His thumb pops back into his mouth as soon as he tells me his name, even though he looks a little too old for that.
I point to his shirt. “Iron Man is my favorite.”
He pulls his shirt away from his body to look down at it as if he needs a reminder of what he’s wearing. It’s a shirt with all the Marvel characters in their fighting stance poses.
“I like the Hulk. He smashes things,” he says, then adds the growl and fists his hands.
I’m about to ask another question, but there’s movement on the stairs that draws our attention.
Greg has located Jenny and is now pulling her down the stairs. She almost stumbles once they clear the last step, as if she’s unaware there are no more in front of her.
“Izzy, this is my wife, Mrs. Kingston.” His grip on her arm seems to be the only thing keeping her standing.
Jenny looks at me and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Another thing I know—Jenny likes her Xanax in the morning, her Chardonnay in the afternoon, and a vodka or three in the evening.
I reach out my hand and she clasps it with both of hers. “Izzy, it’s so nice to meet you!”
She holds on to me longer than is comfortable, and thankfully Miles moves closer, causing her attention to switch to him.
“There you are, sweetheart! Did you get your breakfast?”
Miles nods but doesn’t say anything else.
“Right, okay, I’ve got to get to the office,” Greg says, then turns to me. “You are in charge of Miles. His schedule is written out and taped to the fridge; my number is on the bottom. He can give you a tour of the house and show you where everything is. I’ll be home by six.”
He ruffles Miles’s hair and spins toward the door. There is no good-bye to Jenny or even a look in her direction.
The three of us stand awkwardly in the foyer for a few seconds until Jenny leans down and kisses Miles on the cheek, gives me a great big smile, and drifts back up the stairs.
“Want me to show you around?” Miles asks.
“Yes, give me the grand tour,” I say as I follow him through the door he came through earlier.
* * *
Mama used to say I would recognize the life I was meant to have. I look around this house and think about what it would feel like if this identity were real and I was Izzy Williams, college student and nanny to Miles Kingston.
One thing is for sure, this is definitely not the life for me.
Five days down and I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.
What I have found is that Miles runs this house. He knows when the housekeeper arrives, he knows where the petty cash is kept so she can pick up the week’s groceries, and he knows when Jenny moves from pills to pours. When the wine flows, so do the tears, and we make ourselves scarce.
While she’s melancholy when it comes to Miles, Jenny is almost vicious when it comes to me. She’s all smiles when Greg is around, but the second he leaves, her claws come out. She doesn’t want me in her house. Doesn’t want me spending time with her son. But she’s too drunk and high to change either of those things.
Miles and I play with Legos. We build forts. We sing songs. And I search and search and search.
Not going to lie. This job gets harder each day. Because as soon as I retrieve what I was sent here for, I’m gone. And who will take care of Miles?
But it’s dangerous to think like that. So every day, I add a brick to the wall inside of me that will, I hope, seal myself off from this blond-haired, blue-eyed child who is way too old for his age.
* * *
On day eight, I’m able to get inside Jenny’s bedroom.
Finally.
I don’t have access to this part of the house often since this is where Jenny spends most of her time. Whenever she ventures out of her room, Miles sticks to me like glue. Right now, Miles is napping and Jenny is soaking in the bath, a thin door separating her from me.
Does she stay in there for hours? Is it a quick rinse and out? Who knows. But I can’t afford to lose this opportunity just because I don’t know what to expect.
I wander the room, giving everything a critical eye. I’m looking for a flash drive, one exactly like the flash drive in my pocket that I’ll leave in its place. There are tons of places something that small could be hidden. I have looked in every drawer, nook, and cranny in Greg’s office without luck. I’d dig through his sock drawer if that’s where he hid his valuables.
I’m beginning to think that just because the blueprints don’t show a built-in safe, they might have added one after they bought this house, so now I’m on the hunt for that because I don’t want to fail on my first job.