The Twin Test. Rula Sinara
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The wild-haired lady with the six kids, who were all trailing after her again. A person had to have patience to be happy with that many kids to keep in line. He shoved another bite in his mouth and raised a brow. Maybe it wasn’t a blissful laugh. Maybe it was a delirious, I’m-going-to-lose-my-mind-someone-give-me-a-kid-break-or-bottle-of-Prozac laugh. He couldn’t help but glance back in her direction. Something about her was hard to ignore.
She pushed her hair to the side after giving the youngest kid a hug. She had a clean, natural look about her. Down-to-earth, like Sandy had been. She didn’t seem old enough to have six kids, though. Midtwenties maybe? A couple hurried over to her and began apologizing for being late. Something about the massage they’d been getting. It hit him. Those weren’t her kids. Those weren’t her—he grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth, then signaled over to the nearest waiter.
“Ivy, Fern, stay here a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
The older fellow approached and started to refill his drink. Dax waved his hand to decline.
“No, thank you. But would you mind standing here just for a few minutes? If you could just watch over my daughters a moment—” he glanced at the man’s name tag “—Alim. I’d really appreciate it. And I won’t be long.” He didn’t dare trust the twins alone again. At least not today.
Alim looked a little nervous when Ivy and Fern smiled at him. He raised a brow.
“Sir, I don’t watch children. I have other tables to wait on.”
“I’ll tip you extra. Just give me five minutes.”
Alim hesitated, rubbed a hand over his short, salt-and-pepper hair, then nodded.
Dax narrowed his eyes at the twins.
“Stay put. Read the menu and find yourselves something to eat.” That would occupy them. Maybe. Alim grimaced and gave the girls a stern look. Clearly, kids weren’t his thing, but Dax didn’t have time to worry about the poor guy. He needed to catch Miss Curly Q. He ran out to the foyer, but there was no sign of her. The reception desk. Yes. It was near the wide-open archway that served as the lodge’s entrance. She couldn’t have left without their noting it. He reached the desk in two strides.
“Excuse me. That lady who was just in here. Reddish-brown, curly hair? Does she work here? I noticed she was watching a group of kids, and I’m hoping to hire a baby—a child sitter.”
“No, sir.” The concierge straightened his uniform and cocked his head politely. “She’s not a Tabara employee. She has an arrangement with us to offer the occasional nature hike and mini safari to the young children who visit. It’s part of a package we offer to parents who wish to take advantage of our spa.”
Dax drummed his fingers on the sleek wood counter. He needed to think. Occasional wasn’t going to cut it. He had to catch her before she left.
“Thank you.” He ran outside the lodge and stopped to get his bearings. She wasn’t hard to spot. She was headed toward a grungy, mud-coated jeep with a bounce in her step. He jogged up behind her. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you.”
She spun around and slapped a hand to her chest. Dax held up his hands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you would’ve heard me coming.”
“No. No, it’s fine. I was thinking about something and...never mind.” She looked up at him with glistening, green eyes and cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”
He wasn’t so sure anymore. The scare he’d given her wasn’t enough to make anyone teary-eyed. Whatever she’d been thinking about was none of his business, but when he saw a person’s mood shift so drastically—from laughing and bubbly when they were surrounded by people, to down and withdrawn when they thought they were alone—it pinched at him. Sandy had done that when she was sick. She used to put on a happy face for everyone, not wanting to cause worry, but then he’d catch her alone, depressed and concerned about what would happen to her children after she was gone. He knew pain. He’d masked it plenty of times himself.
“Is everything all right?” He hadn’t meant to ask. Asking meant getting involved and trying to help—in short it meant opening a can of worms. He’d learned that lesson with Nanny Number Two. He shifted his stance and practically held his breath.
“I’m completely fine. This is nothing,” she said, wiping the corner of one eye. “I got some bad news, but it’s taken care of and everything is fine.” She smiled, but there was something cloudy and faraway in her eyes.
“Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck. No can of worms.
“Okay.” She hooked her thumbs on the belt loop of her khakis and waited. “You wanted something?”
“Ah, yes. Yes. I’m hoping you can help me out. I saw back there that you work with kids. I have two girls and—”
“You’d like to book a kid safari. Excellent.”
Her face lit up and her smile warmed. She was unassumingly pretty. Just a fact he registered. He was a scientist. He was simply making an observation.
The twins had had one sitter who’d been more concerned with her layers of makeup than with tending to the kids. She didn’t last long, not because she’d quit like the rest, but because he’d let her go. He didn’t want his girls to become makeup obsessed. At least not for as long as he could help it.
“Would after tomorrow work? Noon-ish? If I could get their names...?” She pulled a mini notebook out from her back pocket, but couldn’t seem to find something to write with. “I’m sorry, I had a pencil here somewhere. Oh. I gave it to someone to use.”
Noon-ish? Just when he thought he’d found someone...a reality check. He had a schedule to keep. Ish didn’t cut it in his life. She seemed disorganized, too. Great.
Maybe if he went back and spoke to the concierge, the man could help Dax find someone else. Then again, Dax needed to be at work in the morning. There wasn’t time to waffle or get picky. He really was desperate for help. Not just any help, either. He needed someone who could deal with the twins and, from what he’d seen, this woman had a healthy dose of patience. Ivy and Fern required an endless supply of that.
“I was thinking more like eight. Sharp.”
“In the morning?” She stopped her pencil search.
“Of course, in the morning,” he said. Eight at night didn’t even make sense. “Look, I should have introduced myself first. Then I’ll explain everything. I’m Dax. Dax Calder.” He held out his hand and, after a brief hesitation, she shook it.
“Pippa.”
“Pippa. That’s easy enough to remember. Like that book my daughters used to read. Pippa Longstocking. Or something like that.”
Pippa’s smile flattened and she raised her brows.
“It’s Pippa Harper. If you were referring to the book character with braids sticking out at right angles to her head, that would be Pippi. Not Pippa.”
“Oh. Right.” Dax swiped a hand across the back of his neck. It was the little things that always reminded him that Sandy had been a far better parent than he could ever be.
The girls used to read to him. Not the other way around. And they used to accuse him of not paying attention to the story. Clearly, he hadn’t. He closed his eyes briefly. “Miss Harper, I’m here on business—long-term-ish—and I thought that maybe you would be interested in...” What would she more likely say yes to? Homeschooling them? Babysitting them? Nanny sounded like a career position, and she obviously already had work. “I need help with my two daughters. The nanny I had arranged to come stay with us here in Kenya couldn’t make it over from the US, and so I really have to find—”
“A babysitter. I’m sorry. I’m not a babysitter. Good luck in your search and have a nice day.” The