Leaving L.A. by Kate Christie

Author:Kate Christie [Christie, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781594932212
Amazon: 1594932212
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2011-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

Surprisingly, Eleanor thought, Laya stayed awake on the ride home, listening to their stories and examining the digitized evidence of her mother leaping from the rope swing earlier that afternoon. She even tried to keep up her end of the conversation over the rice and tamari tofu stir-fry Eleanor whipped up back at the house, regaling them with occasionally disjointed tales of her adventures at Camp Hyatt. But toward the end of dinner, she lost the battle and put her head down on the table, too tired to remain upright any longer.

“You can take her up if you want,” Eleanor said. “I can clean up.”

Tessa shook her head. “You cooked, which means I’m on clean-up duty. Do you mind munchkin duty?”

Eyes still closed, Laya giggled.

“Not at all,” Eleanor said, thinking that it was, in fact, her job. But she didn’t want to remind Tessa that she was The Nanny, not when they both seemed to be pretending that the contract she’d signed at the lawyer’s office back in L.A. didn’t exist. Tonight it felt like they were more than employer-employee, chopping vegetables together, chatting about their day over dinner, helping Laya when she struggled to pronounce a particular word.

The sensation only intensified as she carried Laya upstairs. The girl’s arms were around her neck, and she smelled like tamari and peanut butter and sea salt. Eleanor felt her heart expanding, her love for the girl surrounding them both in a cozy cocoon.

In her room, Eleanor helped Laya change into pajamas and crawl beneath cool sheets. Then she brought her a glass of water from the bathroom and sat down on the bed beside her. “All set, kiddo?”

“Uh-huh. I’m glad you’re here, Elle,” Laya said sleepily.

“Me too, Mahal.” The Filipino term of endearment, which she’d heard Ama and Tessa both use, slipped out, and she remembered Luis and Sasha discussing the tendency of the dominant culture to misappropriate the language of the oppressed minority. In this case, she represented the dominant culture, even though Tessa had more money than many third-world nations, according to O magazine.

Laya picked up Eleanor’s hand, turned it over, and placed her much smaller palm against it. “Mommy needed a friend. She was lonely. I mean, I’ve got Luke and Rayann,” she said, naming two of her regular playdate pals back in L.A., both of whose parents were film bigwigs of some sort, “but she didn’t have anyone. That’s why I wanted her to meet you.”

Eleanor blinked, trying to decide which line of questioning to pursue. It probably didn’t mean anything that Tessa had failed to introduce Laya to any of the men she’d been linked to in the press. Or, apparently, to any women, for that matter. “What do you mean, you wanted her to meet me?”

“She came to school with me that one time because I asked her to. I knew she would love you as much as I do and now she does.” Laya yawned, squeaking like a puppy one of Eleanor’s students back in Boston had brought to school for show-and-tell.

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