Pity… overwhelming pity. In the whole spectrum of human emotion, a field that ranges from bliss to misery, from passion to indifference, from terror to contentment, Mary only knew an overpowering sense of pity. She felt heavy, weighed down her understanding of this family's situation. She pitied the two women in front of her, as they stared silently in separate directions, their minds chasing their own memories. She pitied the man she had looked upon nearly ten minutes ago, ignorant of his tormented recent past. But, most of all, she pitied the motherless little girl whom she still did not know. Mary's thoughts immediately went to her own mother; she was five, it was August, the air was hot and thick with humidity…it was just past dusk… her mother brushing her hair after a bath with a purple comb, she smelled of sunscreen and cherries… she told Mary that fireflies outside the bedroom window would keep her safe while she slept, and Mary believed her without question… she feel asleep watching them fly and occasionally brush the window outside while securely wrapped in her mother's arms.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Mary muttered solemnly. She knew that the statement meant little; it would not sooth their wounds. She remembered her grandfather's funeral nearly 10 years ago. She stood up front of the church with her parents, while wearing a neighbor's too tight black dress, merely five feet from his open casket. Nameless faces pleaded their sorrow over what she had lost, assuring her of their condolences. She found their morning to be lacking and it angered her; if they were truly suffering as she was, they would be gnashing their teeth and ripping off their clothes in penitence. Her grandfather was an intimidating man in both size and demeanor. He was born a few years before the Great Depression and thus part of America's greatest generation. He served in World War II and was the only one of his three brothers to come home. He knew devastating loss, excruciating pain, and bitter anger, and though those experiences influenced him they did not define him. He was honest in a dishonest world, nonjudgmental in a society teaming with cruel gossip, fair in an unjust world, and hardworking in an increasingly sedentary humanity. Mary adored and respected him. She loved the way he smelled of hay, sweat, and sweet tobacco. He would let her sit on his lap and drive the tractors into the barn at the end of a long day. He always had root beer flavored hard candy in his pockets that he would give her, asking her to not tell her sisters. He would place her on his broad shoulders and pick apples in the fall and share stale popcorn with him while sitting on cold aluminum bleachers while they cheered for her dad's football team. So, when he died quickly from pancreatic cancer the summer she turned fifteen (an ugly end Mary found very unbefitting of a man like her grandfather), she was sure she would never recover from her grief. She discovered that while time doesn't heal all wounds, it does slowly mend them, leaving visible scars, allowing individuals to carry on with their lives without running the risk of bleeding out on a day to day basis.

"Thank you dear," it was Ms. Hughes who spoke, calling Mary out of her memories. "Though I'm afraid the tragedy of this home doesn't end there." Mary looked up, taken aback, and met the woman's red-rimmed eyes. "You see, when Lavina died three years ago, Mr. Crawley's mother, Isobel, took over the care of Quinn." She paused momentarily, took a deep, shaky breath, and continued, "…Cancer's a horrible disease…" With those few words, Mary knew how this story would end. "She had been sick for a long time, several years before Lavina passed…I think Isobel hung on and fought for so long because she knew that they both needed her… even though she knew she was fitting a battle she couldn't win." Ms. Hughes spoke quietly, completely immersed in her memories. "For being as sick as she was, colorless, frail, and emaciated in the end, she went quietly in the night a little less than a month ago…She was only 58…only five years older than I am." She finished the last sentence in a choked whisper and Anna came around her back and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Mary's entire frame bowed in on its self with this latest news. She tightened her already crossed arms, felt her spine curved in and her shoulder's slump forward, trying to physically protect her aching heart from any further attack. Again, Mary's kept most of her grief for the faceless little girl who was somewhere in this house. She was probably too young to remember her mother, but she would have known her grandmother, and she will notice her absence. To have lost so much at such a young age was a tragedy that Mary never knew.

Anna cleared her voice to speak, her hand still on Ms. Hughes's shoulder, "We're sorry to trouble you with the ghosts of this house but whoever is hired for the job…needs to know." Mary now clearly understood what was meant earlier about 'the situation of the job.' She never worked for a single parent, let alone cared for a child that had experienced more loss and heartache than she had experienced in five times as long of a life.

Mary suddenly questioned whether or not she wanted the job. What a difficult task it would be. She would only be there because the girl's grandmother had died who had cared for her after her mother had died. What enormous shoes to try to fill. Mary loved caring for children, and knew that it was always challenging, no matter the situation, but she did not think she would be qualified enough, or have enough patience, or enough heart for such a daunting, haunted position. How could she get the girl to mind her, when she would only be a replacement for those that she had loved and lost? What words of comfort would she whisper in her ear when she wept for her loss? How could she make her smile when the world had given her so many reasons to cry? Mary found herself frightened and filled with self-doubt by such an intimidating prospect.

Ms. Hughes raised her arm and patted Anna's hand, which still rested on her shoulder, she then lightly brush away a few stray tears. She took a moment to gather herself, stole a deep, steadying breath, and finally gave Mary a small, slightly embarrassed smile because she had let herself get so emotional in front of a perfect stranger. Mary returned her smile, trying to reassure her without speaking, that she had thought nothing of it. Anna moved to sit down again and Ms. Hughes then asked, with the same smile masking her pain, "Well, do you have any questions for us before we show you the rest of the house?"

Both women gazed at her, and she looked down at her hands in her lap, trying to gather her thoughts. Truly, since the revelation she had a moment ago concerning her own reservations about taking the job, Mary had only one, enormous apprehension, and she asked her question knowing that it would either make or break her decision.

"What's the girl like? I mean…how is she coping?"

Mary saw Anna's head whip around quickly to look at Ms. Hughes. However, Ms. Hughes paid her no mind and only smiled slightly at Mary. Though her brown eyes looked into Mary's, Mary knew that her mind was far away. When she spoke, her voice was relaxed, several octaves lower than normal.

"Quinn was an incredibly happy baby. She smiled and smiled all day long really," a large grin crossed Ms. Hughes face at the happy memory. "That was the happiest I've ever seen all of them. They had each other, a new healthy baby, and enough money to keep them more than comfortable for the rest of their lives. Mr. Crawley was working less and less, and they would spend most afternoons going for extended walks together around the city…They were all so…beautiful…" She paused, her throat constricting around her words again, "That's what makes it so sad in the end really, they were so happy…so young… The world was theirs." She paused and looked at Anna, who gave her a small smile encouraging her to continue. A clocked chimed somewhere in the house and a ray of sunlight reflected off one of the vases holding the white roses, creating a small brilliant indoor rainbow. "But we live in an unfair world and Lavina was suddenly gone…Quinn was too young to really understand, but he took it hard…I once found him, sitting on the floor in Quinn's nursery, holding her small body to his, burying his face in her chest and belly, his arms wrapped tightly around her, sobbing uncontrollably. Though she was young…I remember her looking right at me… her eyes bore straight into mine, and she looked as if she were saying, 'It's ok. He's not hurting me and he needs this'."

Ms. Hughes let out a small hysterical chuckle. "I know I must sound crazy to you dear but that's what I remember…vividly remember." Mary wasn't making assumptions on Ms. Hughes sanity at all, she was only thinking of the image her words elicited. The wealthy, tall man that had stared into her soul earlier, broken and sobbing, clutching the closest thing he had left in this world of his wife.

"Quinn is a very thoughtful and aware child," Ms. Hughes continued. "Though she doesn't remember her mother, she knows that something is missing…it's staring her in the face. While under her grandmother's watch, she grew and still remained a somewhat happy child." She paused, gathering her thoughts again. "She would smile and laugh and wanted to include her father in her happiness. He would often smile and laugh along with her, but when she wasn't looking…the weight of his depression continued to drag him down…He spent more and more time at the office, a place he didn't need to be to make money, and slowly began ignoring Quinn little by little." Mary found herself to be irritated at this latest news but Ms. Hughes pushed on, unhindered by Mary's rising blood pressure. "I heard he and his mother argue over his growing distance to his daughter often…and he would pay Quinn more attention for a few days but it always went back to him leaving early in the morning and not getting back until eight at night." Mary could tell that both Anna and Ms. Hughes were equally annoyed with their employer's actions but were not allowed to speak of it out of fear for their jobs.

Ms. Hughes continued in a whisper, fearing that she might be overheard, and Mary leaned in closer to her, "Quinn's natural jovialness slowly dwindled the more and more her father distanced himself. Every once in a while, he would step out from under his cloud of depression and pay attention to her, and her happiness would return. We would hear them laughing and playing and it seemed like the world would start turning again…but he always went back into his shell."

Anna broke in again, speaking slightly bolder than her associate had, "I understand his despair and I do not think little of the suffering he has gone through…but to ignore her like that…it's not right." Mary agreed quite adamantly. "She's a kind and sweet little girl but his detachment has caused her to shield herself from others…she's quite and lonely and since her grandmother passed…we've really only heard her speak to herself." She paused, remembering, and she let out one humorless bark of laughter, "You should have seen the pair of them at Isobel's service…each wearing the same blank, stony face…betraying no emotion but coldness at that dear woman's passing. I don't blame Quinn, she's only learned to mirror him…It's like he's punishing himself. He's fighting being a happy man."

Ms. Hughes shushed Anna quietly and patted her right hand, where it lay clenched in a tight fist, resting on the island's black granite top. Ms. Hughes turned back to Mary and said, "So, if you get the job, you'll be caring for a kind little girl who has withdrawn from the world…She'll hardly looks anyone in the eyes, she's minds as well as any five year old, but her eyes normally stay glued to her feet… She never smiles anymore, not even for her father when he temporary wakes up from his mummified state, which has made him more irritable than ever. He's not stupid…he knows that his actions have had a very negative affect on his daughter, though he doesn't acknowledge it. She's keen and smart…really, she just had to grown up too fast." The women finished, looking at one another and sharing an unspoken understanding.

Their explanation laid a clear framework for what to expect from the child. She would be quiet, introverted, despondent, and feel unloved. A sudden vicious anger reared up inside her chest. She felt her muscles tense and her skin heat. She felt the need to be on her feet, moving and an irritated breath left her lungs. She despised the girl's gutless, self-centered father. The child had already lost her mother and grandmother, did she have to grieve for his loss as well? Could he not step up and give his child the love and attention she deserved? She was by many intents and purposes, an orphaned child. What kind of man did that to his own child? Mary pitied him for his lose, but hated him for his actions. There was no excuse for abandoning his only child to a life of emotional neglect and personal misery.

Mary's previous apprehension over taking the job had vanished while listening to Anna and Ms. Hughes explain the girl's situation and her absentee father. She would do anything she could to ensure this child, who had lost her entire family at a lamentable young age, that she was loved and important. She would be the type of caretaker that the girl deserved—present, loving, attentive, and nourishing. Mary would see her smile. Mary would hear her laugh.

"Where is she?" Mary asked, determination coating her words, "I'd very much like to meet her." Mary rose from her chair and slung her bag back across her body, clearly signifying that she did not want to wait any longer. Both women hesitated in their chairs momentary, no doubt taken aback by Mary's sudden change in demeanor. Mary looked at them expectantly, neither had follow her lead and risen, and Mary started looking about the house and down the dark corridor, determined to find the girl by herself if need be. Seeing her impatient persistence, both women rose quickly before Mary could start knocking on doors and opening them at random.

Ms. Hughes spoke breathlessly to Mary's turned, searching backside, "Well…we thought we would show you the rest of the house…"

"I'd really like to meet her first," Mary nearly shouted at her, whipping around to look her at her full on. Mary saw the shock on the older woman's face and the small, impressed smirk on the younger woman's face. Mary quickly amended her outburst, "Forgive me," she spoke softer, in a more measured tone, "I just think that seeing the girl I'll be caring for is far more important than taking a tour." Mary meant the statement to be firm, but she hoped that she hadn't come across as too demanding. The women had been wonderful hosts and she didn't want to ruin the good rapport that she had established with them over the past half hour.

"I quite agree," Anna consented, "Don't you Elsie?" Anna spoke to Ms. Hughes but gave Mary a knowing smile. Mary felt that, in Anna, she would find a kindred spirit. "We'll first go and see Quinn, then show Mary the rest of the house, and then, if we all feel that it would be a good idea," looking at Mary then back to Ms. Hughes, "Mary can go and talk with Mr. Crawley."

Mary desperately hoped that she would have a chance to speak to Mr. Crawley. She wanted the job for the girl's sake and would thus be on her best behavior, when she spoke with him. She would placate him to his face and curse his spinelessness behind his back. If the conversation turned in a way were she was sure she would not be getting the position, Mary would truly give him a piece of her mind. She knew why Ms. Hughes and Anna where reluctant to stand up to him, but she would be proud to be escorted out of The Pearl by armed guards on the girls behalf. Mary smiled at image in her mind. Her arms cuffed behind her walking through the posh lobby of The Pearl, surrounded by four or five men dressed in black suits with earpieces in their left ears and guns slung to their right hips, emerging like a heroic villain through the swinging glass doors, people would cheer in the streets knowing that she had stood up for the helpless, and Mary knew the first thing she would do once the men took the heavy cuffs off her wrists would be to look up to the Crawley penthouse, place a triumphant smirk on her face, raise her right hand to the sky, and stick up her middle finger at him, everyone on the streets would know that it was meant for him, and he would see her do it, perched in his glass tower, and feel physically burned by the public insult…

Ok…Mary knew that that would never happen, but the image made her smile. The altercation with the man would probably not get that public, but she knew, that it would at least be passionate.

Mary nodded her compliance to Anna, and Anna responded by saying, "Why don't you follow me this way," she walked out of the kitchen and moved to stand in the corridor, turning her body to face the way they had came, towards the dinning room, and continued, "and we can introduce you to Quinn." She smiled at Mary and looked swiftly to a still slightly stunned Ms. Hughes. Mary moved quickly to follow Anna as she walked through the dinning room and back into the enormous living room. After a moment's pause, Mary heard Ms. Hughes light footsteps behind her, having finally unthawed from where she stood in the kitchen.

They passed the billiards table, the double-sided fireplace, the large double doors that Mary had entered through, the sitting area, and the grand piano, Anna leading, Mary trailing her, and Ms. Hughes bringing up the rear. Anna hung a sharp right past the sitting area, revealing an enormous out door patio to her left and another dark corridor directly in front of her. Mary calculated that they were now on the southern side of the penthouse and she only had a moment to take in the patio. The area was about the size of the dinning room and was furnished with the same kind of block-furniture that was in the living room. Though while the frames of the three outdoor chairs and two outdoor couches matched the cool grey of their counterparts in the living room, their cushions were an off-white color, their throw pillows were a cool, steely blue, and their fabric, whether it be stretched over square frames or filled with soft cotton was noticeably shinier and tougher looking—surely signifying it's ability to repel water. The patio furniture was also arranged in a square shape, though this time centered around an outdoor, open fireplace, it's walls composed of black and grey stone. Mary was pleased to find that the railings around the patio were at least four feet high, and, perhaps another three feet in front of the railings, stood a solid sheet of eight foot tall glass (connected somehow to the building though Mary could not see how from inside) giving an unobstructed view of the southern city skyline all while ensuring that no child, or even determined adult, could fall off its sides.

After passing the sunlit brightness of the patio, the women crossed the threshold of the dark hallway. Their combined footfalls sounded loud on the hardwood floors of this condensed space. Mary thought that it would be fun to run down this long hall with clean socks on, stop suddenly, and see how far she could slide only using her momentum. Random pieces of artwork hung along the inner, whitewashed walls to Mary's right and an assortment of heavy looking, dark wooden doors were placed along the wall to her left. They immediately passed two doors, separated only by about four feet, and then another fifteen steps down the hall, Anna came to a stop at another identical looking door. Mary stopped abruptly a couple feet behind her, knowing that this was their destination.

Anna let out her own slightly nervous breath, turned to Mary and said in a whispered voice, "Remember, she's a sweet girl, she's just crippled by insecurity. I don't know how the other children that you cared for responded to you when you first met them…but I'm sure Quinn will be much different." Mary was sure of that too. She had always bonded with the kids that she watched fairly quickly. They were all loved and nourished children and thus where able to give and express love easily. Eli Little crawled onto her lap within the first five minutes of meeting her, and gave her a detailed account of his day of school, a well thought out explanation for why his teddy bear, Jo, was able to keep him safe at night, and a valid argument for why he should have SpaghettiO's every night for dinner. She fell in love with him instantly and he looked at her like she was the sun and the moon. Mary knew that she was already slightly in love with Quinn Crawley but she needed to accept that her affections might never be returned.

"I understand." Mary responded truthfully to Anna, whose left hand rested on the doors curved handle.

Anna looked at her knowingly, and asked, "Ready then?" Mary nodded silently, her eyes on Anna's left hand, waiting with determined impatience for her to turn the handle. Mary felt the tension of all three of them in the air. Their senses were acutely aware of their surroundings and their muscles were tightly bunched, as if they were going into battle not merely entering the bedroom of a five-year old girl.

Anna took in a deep breath, raised her right hand and knocked once on the door, before turning the handle and opening it. She stepped into the bright room first and Mary, taking another moment's pause, entered in slowly after her.

Mary knew that it was inappropriate to be jealous of a five year old but standing just past the doorway of Quinn's room awakened her inner adolescent, and she found herself envious of the child's bedroom. Mary's eyes widened as she took in room around her, and an opened mouth smile broke across her face as she let out a string of corresponding light-hearted chuckles. The girl's bedroom looked to be straight out of a modern fairy tale, and Mary idly wondered if the girl had any talking animals that doubled as a loyal sidekick.

When Mary crossed the threshold of the room behind Anna, she found herself in a short corridor. Though she quickly walked through it, she noticed that the door to her left held an en suite bathroom, complete with a small vanity, toilet, and a fairly large bathtub which doubled as a shower, and the door to her right held a walk in closest, which contained a large assortment of clothes and shoes to the left and enough toys to fill a small toy shop to the right. Both doors, and the captivating spaces behind them, were only the start to Mary's envy. Once past the small corridor, the whole expanse of the room was before her. The floor was covered in a plush white carpet and the room was decorated in a variety of purples and greens. Directly in front of Mary was the same glass wall that covered all of the exterior walls of the penthouse, though this wall came with a set of spring green floor-to-ceiling curtains, which were currently bunched in the right-hand corner of the room. Mary was pleased to see the curtains, glad that the girl could sleep without fear of getting sunburnt. To the immediate right was a double bed set on a white, wrought iron canopy bed frame. The frame was adorned with many small white roses placed on winding ivy, bent and shaped by a skilled craftsman. A thin, soft, looking fabric, the color of pale purple, hung atop the bed and along the two corners at the foot of the bed. Her comforter was a slightly deeper purple and the pillows were the same spring green as the curtains, though they were hard to see under a hoard of stuff animals. The bed was placed in between two white bedside tables, a reading-lamp and digital clock were placed on the one to the right, and a small picture frame and an oversized neon-green plastic teddy bear, which Mary knew would emanate a soft glow in the night, were on the table to the left. In the right hand corner of the room, in front of the curtains, were two small chairs and a table, on which lay a variety of coloring books, colored construction paper, glue sticks, child's scissors, markers, crayons, and pencils. Mary saw a few finished drawings, pinned to a cork-board behind the desk and was deeply curious to see what the girl's imagination had conjured.

To the left sat the focus of the bulk of Mary's jealously. Taking up nearly the entire left wall, stood the most impressive playhouse Mary had ever seen. It was like someone had taken a beautiful Victorian style house, shrunk it several sizes smaller, and placed it in the girl's bedroom. It was probably at least eight feet tall and was well over twelve feet long. Its siding (Is that real siding? Yes) was beige, it's two front windows had light purple shutters on each side, and the door, placed in between the windows and dividing the house down the middle, was painted a mint-green color. The house's roof was covered with real shingles and it looked to have functioning gutters. Mary wondered sarcastically if Quinn got much rain in the summer. The roof peaked in middle, and slightly above the miniature door, was a small circular window, which led Mary to believe that the playhouse held a loft within it. To the right of the small window, stretched long the spine of the roof was a perfectly squared, red-bricked chimney. In front of the lower windows, stretching their length, were two rectangular, eggplant colored flower boxes, filled with, to Mary's surprise, fake pink and yellow tulips. Adding even more realism to the tiny home was its small wooden front porch, which was lined with a white-picket fence and featured a kissing-gate. Lastly, Mary noticed a doorbell to the right of the door, lit up to a soft glow, and, to the left of the kissing-gate, a tiny mailbox with its flag up. Mary searched for the perfect word to describe the space, and after some brief pondering, settled on enchanting.

Mary was pleased to see a small library and cozy-looking rocking chair in the left hand corner of the room just past the playhouse. At this Mary's curiosity overtook her, and she walked past Anna and headed for the reading area. Her hand brushed over the cool polished wood of the rocking chair's right arm and landed on its back, off-white, cushioning. Mary realized with pleasure that it was made out of crushed velvet, which was soft, and delightfully warm to the touch. The cushion covered the hard, wooden frame of the chair's back and seat, making it an ideal place to curl up with a good book. The child's library was fairly impressive. It offered, what appeared to be, a complete collection of Dr. Seuss and Berenstain Bears books, worn copies of The Giving Tree and Charlotte's Web, new copies of Corduroy and Love You Forever, and a variety of modern and classic children's books. She also found a variety of adult classics, like A Tale of Two Cities and Sense and Sensibility, mixed in with the children's books.

Mary's heart leaped when her eyes landed on her favorite book as a child, The Velveteen Rabbit. She picked up the old edition quickly and started slowly thumbing through its worn pages. A flood of lovely memories rushed through Mary's mind at seeing the same words on the old paper. She settled on her most prized memory of book—her father reading it to her one stormy night when she was six or seven years old. Her father, like her grandfather, was an apposing physical specimen. He stood well over six feet tall and had a well-built, strong body. When he spoke, his voice deep and resonate, people listened. Others knew him to be tough, measured, and business-like, though those hard qualities crumpled in the presence of his three daughters. As a child, Mary was deathly afraid of the dark, and so one spring night, when a horrible thunderstorm knocked out their power, her father read her The Velveteen Rabbit three times by flickering candle-light before she was finally able to drift off to sleep. Each time he read the book, it was like Mary was hearing for the first time. When she woke the next morning, to a clear blue sky, she discovered her father was still in the rocking chair by the side of her bed. He was asleep at an awkward angle, his right leg resting on her bed and his head slung to the left. The candle at her beside had been blown out hours ago but her father remained present in the dark, mere inches away from her if she needed him.

With this memory of her loyal and steadfast father, Mary remembered the little girl who was ignored by her own. Mary took in the enchanting room around her and thought of how, when she first entered it and gazed upon its splendor, considered the room to be every child's fantasy come true. How painfully wrong she had been. She remembered that the little girl, who called this space her own, would trade it all gladly for the daily love and attention of the only person she had left. Mary's temper again rose at the thought of Mr. Crawley, no doubt at this moment tirelessly working for pointless reasons to make more money that he did not need.

Mary's attention refocused on the task at hand and the child who needed her. She looked around the room again, wondering if she had missed the child somewhere. Scanning over the empty bed, art desk, and reading corner, Mary's eyes settled on the only other place that the girl could be. She slowly started walking towards the playhouse but hesitated a few feet from its small porch. She looked back at Anna and Ms. Hughes who were both watching her nervously in the doorway, and asked them quietly, "Does she know that I'm coming today? Does she know why I'm here?" Both women nodded their heads slowly nearly in unison. Mary would have laughed at the looks on their faces under normal circumstances, both standing as still as statues, barley breathing, and both sets of eyes bulging out of their skulls, but she understood their anxiety. Mary then suddenly wondered why the two women were so nervous. Did they want Mary to get the job has badly as she wanted it? True, they had hit it off well, but there was no need for them to be pulling so hard on her behalf. Were there no other candidates? That idea was nearly impossible. There must be hundreds of nannies in the Chicago area and all of them dying to be paid what Mr. Crawley was offering. Mary pushed the thought to the side for now, she would think it over later, the current matter at hand was much more pressing.

Mary looked down at the small porch extending off the front of Quinn's playhouse and wondered whether it would support her weight. Without giving it too much further thought, she stepped onto it, her heals cracking on its wooden frame. 'Of course it had a real wooden porch,' Mary thought to herself. It was well capable of not only taking her weight but probably the combined weight of the other two women as well. She knew that Quinn had probably been watching her since she had first entered her room and wondered what the girl thought of her. Mary hardly ever troubled over what others thought of her, she liked the way she was and if others didn't then so be it, but she found herself obsessed with how the little girl had perceived her initially. Mary walked the two paces to the small green door, her heals rubbing unpleasantly on the unpolished wood, creating an awful sound that made her back teeth hurt. Once in front of the door, she bent at the waist and slightly at the knees so that her head was just slight lower than the top of the four foot door, placed her left hand on her knee to better support her upper body, raised her right hand, and gave two soft knocks.

Mary could only hear her own shallow breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth…in through the nose, out through the mouth. After a moment's pause, heavy with anticipation, Mary first hear then saw the small silver door handle of the house turn to the right. A second later, the door opened only a few inches wide, and Mary saw only one half of an angel's face; skin as fair as white silk, curly soft hair the color of a warm sunset, and (though she hated paying him a compliment) dazzling eyes as crystal blue and clear has her fathers, before she tilted her head and eyes down to her feet. Mary remembered Ms. Hughes's words from earlier, 'She hardly looks anyone in the eyes…' Mary leaned a little to the right, trying to get a better look at the girl, but the child made no move to open the door further. Mary pressed on, undeterred by the girl's shyness.

"Hello, I'm Mary." Mary introduced herself to the child about the same way she would introduce herself to anyone. She found, during her many years of being a nanny, that around the age of four or five, children no longer responded to baby talk. You couldn't engage them in conversation like an adult, but she found that she got a better response from of them just talking to them in a plain and simple way. Since, Quinn already knew she was coming today and understood well enough why she was there, Mary decided to forgo any explanation to the girl, and went for a different tactic altogether.

"You know," Mary continued kindly, "I noticed your drawling table over there and I'd really like to draw a picture but I didn't want to use your things without asking you first."

The girl raised her head slightly and looked to her drawing table in the corner of the room.

"So, what do you think? May I use your supplies and draw a picture?"

Quinn, still looking at her drawing table through the crack in the door, took a moment and pondered Mary's request. Mary was tense with anticipation but tried to keep a calm exterior; she had no other plan if the girl denied her request. After a long moment, Quinn nodded her head once, her small pink mouth set in a hard line, and then lowered her head again and continued staring at her bare toes.

Mary acted as if the girl was behaving perfectly normally and responded to the silent approval by saying through a kind smile that coated her words with friendliness, "Thank you Quinn. That's very nice of you." Mary said no more as she stood to her full height, turned, and walked across the room to the miniature art studio. Midway through her assent across the room, Mary heard the door of the playhouse slowly creak open more widely, and he felt the girl's eyes on her as reached the small table. Mary acted as if she was unaware of Quinn's large blue eyes on her as she slung her bag over her shoulder and onto the floor and settled herself at one of the two tiny chairs. Mary felt comical sitting there; she was squished, her knees were a good three inches taller than the table and nearly as high as her breasts, and her bottom hung a little off both sides of the tiny chair. But again, Mary acted as if it were nothing and started thumbing through the colorful stack of construction paper sat in the middle of the table. Placing a slight look of irritation across her face, Mary turned her head to the right and called to Quinn in a somewhat pleading tone

"Quinn, do you think you could help me find a yellow piece of paper?" Mary turned back to the stack of paper in front of her and shuffled them again, "I can't seem to find one."

Mary continued to shuffle the stack, though her ears were acutely listening for the sound of Quinn's footsteps. Mary knew perfectly well that there was a bight yellow piece of paper not five sheets deep from the top, but she needed to draw Quinn out of the playhouse in order to engage her. Finally, after a few moments that felt like a lifetime, Mary heard the slow, soft footfalls of the girl's bare feet on the soft carpet. A second later, Quinn was beside Mary, and while Mary was seated so low in the tiny chair, the two were about at the same eye level. Mary still sensed the girl's eyes on her, appraising her silently. Mary paid it no mind and only handed Quinn the top half of the stack. "Here," Mary handed over the stack without looking at her, knowing that it would only cause to the girl to look away in the same instant, "If you could look through this half for me?" Mary felt the papers being slowly pulled from her fingers and once they were gone, she refocused her efforts on her own portion. For a short while, there was only the sound of two sets of hands, one significantly smaller than the other, shuffling through bunches of paper. By the time Mary exhaled for a sixth time, she saw a small hand outstretched, grasping a bright piece of yellow construction paper.

Once Mary saw this, she took a risk and glanced at Quinn. She met the girl's eyes for the briefest of moments, before Quinn quickly looked away from her. Standing out in the open, Mary noticed that the girl wore a yellow sundress, approximately the same color of the piece of paper clutched in her hand, and it was embroidered with the white silhouettes of a Mother duck and three ducklings. Her round face was angelic and her strawberry blonde ringlets hung down just past her shoulders. She was a beautiful and tragically tormented child.

"Thank you Quinn." Mary spoke the words softly and sweetly as she gingerly took the paper from Quinn's grasp. She looked away from the girl and focused her attention on the paper in front of her. Mary grabbed a brown crayon off the table and started doodling the outline of what was sure to be a poorly drawn dog. She had to curve her back towards her legs and nearly put her chest to her knees in order to reach the miniature table. Mary noticed that Quinn was watching her hand as it moved across the paper, the brown crayon making black marks across the yellow paper. They stayed like that for a minute or two, Quinn still standing silently beside her, the girl's breathing deep and rhythmic, Mary turning the page this way and that to get better angles for her hand to draw. Several crayons were spread across the table, a red one being the closest to where Quinn stood.

"Could you please hand me the red crayon?" Mary asked her without looking at her, still appearing to be engrossed in her creation. She saw Quinn pick up the crayon out of the corner of her eye, and Mary raised her hand, palm up and flat. She felt the smooth sides of crayon and cool, small fingertips touch her skin. Quinn let go quickly and moved her hand swiftly down her side. "Thanks" Mary told her still without looking up and directly at her, hoping to make the girl feel comfortable in her presence.

Mary dropped the red crayon to her left and asked Quinn if she could hand her the blue one… then the green one…and then the purple one. They stayed like this for a while; Mary adding more and more marks to her page with Quinn's silent assistance. The only sounds in the room were Mary's requests to the girl followed by the sound of waxy crayon hitting paper, over and over again. After what had probably been five minutes of Quinn handing Mary crayons, Mary thought it was time to implement the next part of her plan. She stretched her right leg out underneath the table, enjoying the tingling sensation of blood returning to her foot after her leg had been bent so tightly for so long, and nudged the other small chair, pushing it away from the table and slightly opening up to where Quinn stood. Anna and Ms. Hughes had repeatedly told Mary that the girl was kind and polite, and thus she hoped those qualities would ensure that the girl would not turn her down.

With her eyes still on her paper, Mary said in a quite but clear voice, "Why don't you have a set and draw with me?" Mary held her breath as Quinn pondered her request. After a moment's pause Mary felt her leave her side as the child came to sit in the chair across from her. Mary stole another glance at the girl and saw her take a pink page of construction paper and immediately put a blue crayon to its smooth surface. Mary shifted her gaze slightly and noticed Anna and Ms. Hughes still standing like statues in the doorway. The four of them stayed like this for another five or ten minutes, the girl immersed in her drawing, the three women immersed in her. Mary kept a watchful eye on Quinn, noticing that she looked slightly less haunted. She seemed to be content sitting there with Mary next to her. Mary continued doodling on her paper, and started humming quietly to herself hoping to portray to Quinn that she too was very pleased to be in her presence. She wanted to emphasize to Quinn, in a subtle way, that she was truly enjoying spending time with her.

When it looked as if Quinn was getting close to finishing her drawing, a multi-colored rainbow with a puffy cloud on each end and a bright yellow sun drawn on the edge of the paper, Mary took another risk. She adjusted her position, so that she was leaning across the table even more, and fixed her eyes on Quinn's drawing.

"Wow…that it really well done." Quinn's crayon, which had been coloring in one of the clouds, slowly stilled and the girl looked up at Mary from under her brow. Mary pushed on, "Do you think I could have it?...I like it a lot better than mine." Quinn's eyes returned to her paper, her crayon still pressed to the same spot where she had paused. Mary again held her breath and a moment later Quinn's crayon started up again, finishing the cloud, as if she hadn't even heard her. Mary's heart sunk. She knew that this was a clear 'no' and she felt a stinging pain of disappointment. She was sure her plan to just be present with the girl, doing an activity that she enjoyed, not trying to force her into interaction (something that would have surely intimidated her), would be an excellent way for Mary gradually insert herself into Quinn's life as a caretaker. But the girl had failed to respond to her. She looked over to Anna and Ms. Hughes still standing in the doorway, both of their eyes glued to the floor and their shoulder's slumped forward in defeat. Mary was so ashamed that she had let everyone down and she was so busy trying to think of another nanny that could possibly try his or her luck in an attempt to win over Quinn Crawley that she did not see the pink paper raised in offering.

A flash of pink hit the corner of Mary's left eye, and she slowly turned her head and saw Quinn holding her creation out to her. Mary's heart leapt as she realized that perhaps all was not lost. Quinn's arm was still outstretched to her when Mary noticed the girl's eyes were looking longingly at her own paper, which featured a rather pathetic rendering of a happy dog with a bone and red ball at its paws.

"Perhaps…" Mary spoke, gathering her own page in her hand, "We should trade drawings. That way we'll always have something to remember each other by." Then putting as much truth behind her words as possible, Mary leaned even closer to Quinn and whispered, so that only she could hear, "I've really enjoyed spending time with you today Quinn."

Then, as slowly as the sun sets, Quinn raised her head and her bright blue eyes meet Mary's. Mary was slightly taken aback at her stare, it was so hauntingly beautiful…just as her father's had been. She looked at Mary plainly, and Mary saw the sense of knowing in her eyes. Her gaze was not one of a child, but rather one of an adult who has seen too much heartache. Her eyes held amazing depth and spoke volumes of the life she had lived and the one's she had lost. She was apprising Mary with her silent stare. Mary held her gaze, though she did not stare back at her as boldly as she had stared upon her father. She tried to soften her eyes, and pleaded silently that the girl would see the sincerity of her words, etched across her face. Then, in a movement so quick that Mary hardly caught it, she looked away.

Mary raised her hand and slowly withdrew the paper from Quinn's fingertips. Once the paper was gone, Quinn's palm flattened, a clear invitation for Mary to slide her own picture into the girl's grasp. Once the exchanged was complete, Quinn leaned back in her chair, held Mary's picture up to her face with both hands, and let her eyes slowly wander across the flat surface.

Mary knew that it was time to leave Quinn be, not wanting to over crowd her too much in their first meeting, but she still had one last strategy to implement. Mary met the eyes of Anna and Ms. Hughes briefly before turning back to Quinn one last time. The girl still held Mary's drawing to her face, so Mary spoke to the back of the bright yellow paper.

"Thank you so much for your drawing. It really is lovely and I really have enjoyed spending time with you…Maybe, I could come back and draw with you again in a couple days?" Mary finished her request with a silent prayer to the heavens and held her breath as Quinn pondered her proposal.

Mary heard the girl's slow, shallow breathing and wondered whether it was possible to die from anticipation. The unseen clock chimed again once somewhere in the house and Mary saw a helicopter flying low over the city in the distance. Her mind raced, trying to think of another tactic to win the girl's favor if this one had failed. Mary cast her eyes about the room, hoping to see something that would give her inspiration.

Then, just as Mary was beginning to think that the girl wasn't going to respond to her in anyway, Quinn let out a small and clear, "Okay." Her voice was high and sweet, and beautiful music to Mary's ears. The one word reverberated through her mind like the beautiful prose of poetry. The voice matched her angel's face and the moment Mary heard her speak, she was determined to hear it again. Mary sighed with sudden relief, unaware of the tension in her shoulders and back until it had gone. Though she still did not look at Mary, though she still was crippled by insecurity and doubt, and though she was still very much a victim of her father's neglect, Mary felt as if she and girl had overcame an enormous obstacle today.

Mary rose, Quinn's drawing clutched in her hand, bent to pick up her bag and slung it over her head. "Okay, I'll see you in a couple days." Mary turned and headed toward the door, noticing with a small shock that only Anna stood there. Once she reached the door, Mary turned and looked once more upon the small child, but the girl's angel face was still buried in the yellow paper, blocking Mary's view.

Once in the hall again, and after Anna had shut the door, Mary let out a loud sigh of relief and placed her entire backside against the inner wall of the corridor, sagging her weight against it. She was suddenly very tired and her body felt heavy, as if she had just finished a strenuous workout. She let out a few relieved chuckles before addressing Anna.

"I'm sorry, I know it wasn't much, but I feel like I've just ran a marathon."

"No that was impressive." Anna looked at Mary wondrously. "Direct eye contact and a single word answer from Quinn is something to be really proud of…You must really know what you're doing."

"Not really. I mean," not wanting to sound too proud, "I am a good nanny and I know what to do in normal circumstances…but I just kind of went with what felt right." Mary met Anna's eye seriously, shifting the dynamic of the conversation. "Your right about her though. She's a very sweet girl…it's a tragedy to the world that she's been forgotten."

Anna and Mary shared a silent moment, heavy with understanding. Eventually, Anna broke the silence, "Well, shall I show you the rest of the house then?"

"Of course, of course." Mary rose from her slumped position against the wall, and then, suddenly remembering her absence asked, "Where's Ms. Hughes?"

"She went to have a chat with Mr. Crawley. He…ugh…wanted to know how your interaction with Quinn went to before he took the time to meet with you… Not wanting to waste time if it hadn't gone well." Anna looked at the floor, ashamed of her boss.

Mary laughed it off, truly not caring if Mr. Crawley didn't want to spend time with her. Her only beef with the man was that he didn't want to spend time with his adolescent daughter. "Well I guess he'll have to meet with me now if what you say is true about my successful interaction with his daughter."

"It was, and he will." Anna smirked at her and continued, "But, before you have to go head to head with Mr. Crawley, let me show you the rest of the house, which, for your purposes, really isn't too much more." Anna took a deep breath before launching into an architectural description of the penthouse. "Ok, we are currently on the sixty-second floor of The Pearl. As you can obviously tell, the entire outer walls are made out of a tinted glass, which gives us a spectacular 360-degree view of the city and lake, without baking us like a potato. The basic layout of the penthouse is very simple. It's really only a square, or perhaps rectangle is more accurate, with an elevator shaft in the very middle, and living area everywhere else. This hall," Anna indicated the corridor they were currently standing in, " and the hall that the kitchen is off of, are the sides of penthouse that are slightly longer than other two sides. With me so far?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

"Good. So, like I said, you've already seen half of the penthouse, and I will really only be showing you in one more room before you meet with Mr. Crawley in his office. You've seen the living room, that's the big room we were in when you first came, you've seen the dinning room, kitchen, family room, that was the room off the kitchen, and we passed by the porch on our way to Quinn's room." Anna paused, gathered her breath, and pointed back down the hall to the two doors they had passed on their way to meet Quinn. "That first door, the one closest to the porch, is a powder room…not too much to be said about that, and the door next to it, the one closer to us, is a laundry room, which you won't be using too much, if at all, because Elsie and I take care of all the laundry. However, the laundry room also is the entrance to a panic room which has never been used, and hopefully will never have to be used." This information caught Mary off guard, the idea of needing such a room shocking her, but she didn't have long to ponder on it because Anna suddenly pivoted and started walking deeper down the hall, and Mary had to walk briskly to keep up with her.

About three-fourths of the way down the hall Anna paused again in front of another door. "This," she explained, "Is the master bedroom, it's enormous, taking up almost twenty-five percent of the entire penthouse, and it's beautiful, but it's not relevant for your purposes so Ms. Hughes told me not to show it to you…sorry. Anyway," Anna continued walking, and after another ten or fifteen feet, turned right down another corridor, heading toward a solitary door placed half way down the hall, "the master bedroom sits on the southwest corner and takes up a good portion of the area on the other side of this wall." Anna indicated the wall to their left. The walls of this short corridor were also adorned with a variety of paintings and artistic photographs and Mary hoped that she would have the chance to really look at them all sometime. This penthouse featured more art than a lot of the gallery shows she had been to.

After another moment, Anna came to pause in front of the lone door. "Ok, this is the door to the larger guest room and will be where you sleep when you stay the night."

Mary cut in suddenly, "I told Ms. Hughes that I really don't like idea of staying over and working weekends. I'll always be present when I'm required, but I dislike the idea of 'being on call'. I need to have my own time and, once school starts up again, time to do my work and study. If it's only once or twice, or under a very special circumstance, that won't be a problem, but it can't be a regular thing."

"Well you can certainly try to negotiated something out with him but, just fair warning, he normally gets his way…so good luck." Mary thought she saw Anna roll her eyes as if saying that Mary would never get her way, but Anna didn't know that Mary was normally on the winning side of most arguments, whether they be in the bar or in the classroom.

"Still," Anna pressed on, "let's take a look, shall we?" She pressed her right shoulder against the door and slightly pushed against it while turning the curved handle and opening the door. Mary wondered whether she would ever get use to the assault of light on her corneas. Though she soon realized that this room seemed especially bright because it was decorated mostly in pure whites, rich, bright yellows, and deep browns. Again, the first thing Mary noticed was the breath taking view. This room sat on the northwest corner of the penthouse and offered her a clear view of most of the Chicago "Loop." Mary was quickly able to determine that this room had the best view in the house and she had no doubt that she could spend hours watching the city flow underneath her.

The room was grand and spacious and was outfitted with a king size bed, which sat against a wall to her left. The bed was adorned with a bright white down-comforter, white, oversized sleeping pillows, and variety of yellow throw pillows. Slightly above the bed, looking as if it were suppose to be a large headboard, hung an enormous photograph of a field of tall sunflowers at sunset. The picture stretched the entire length of the bed and stood three feet tall. The image was stretched across canvas, taken slightly above eye level, and was so crystal clear that Mary felt as if she were looking through a window into another realm. There was a small dark brown bedside table to the left of the bed and matching set of dark brown dresser and drawers sat against the inner wall to Mary's immediate right. Around the corner of the inner wall, along the northern side of the room, was a luxurious sitting area that featured a small but well stocked library, its selves built into the inner wall, a large three-person white couch and matching love set, and an enormous flat-screen TV set upon a dark brown open-entertainment center.

Mary noticed a break in the wall to the right of the bed and walked over to it, finding that it was the entrance to an enormous en suite bathroom. The bathroom was nearly the size of the bedroom and held all of the luxuries that Mary hoped would adorn her dream bathroom one day. The tile beneath her feet was checkered, alternating steel gray and black. The walls to her right were still made completely of glass, though its tint was much darker, leading Mary to assume that no one would be able to see into it even at night with the bathroom lights on. A double sink vanity set into dark marble countertops sat upon the wall to her left, and further down the same wall, a narrow door stood opened to reveal a privacy toilet and bidet. Still further down to the left, another door stood open revealing a large, empty walk in closet. Against the back wall was a large ivory colored Jacuzzi tub and an enormous rainfall, glass shower. The shower was placed into the corner of the back wall, the tub to its right and the glass window wall to its left making up one of its sides, so that when someone was in it, they could look directly out the window and down to the city streets below. Mary found this idea both thrilling and terrifying. Naked and showering, only a foot of glass separating her from a fall that would easily kill her.

Perhaps Mary wouldn't mind staying here more than every once in awhile. It would be like staying in a luxury hotel…it would be exactly like staying in a luxury hotel. Mary quickly pushed that thought aside. She must insist on having a clear time frame set for work and a clear time frame set for herself.

Mary turned and found that not only was Anna observing her, but Ms. Hughes was as well. Mary closed her mouth, unaware that it had opened in aw while observing the space. "This place…this whole house is absolutely stunning…Mr. Crawley has acquired a lot of worldly possessions." Mary hoped they understood her compliment and her insult. She knew that Anna did based on her small smirk but Ms. Hughes face revealed nothing. The older woman appeared to be lost in her own thoughts but she was the one that spoke next.

"Mary, I've just spoke to Mr. Crawley and he is ready to see you now." The atmosphere of the room shifted and Mary knew that this was really the moment that everything had been building up to. Her muscles tensed suddenly and she gave a quite gasp as her throat constricted. She knew that she wanted to give him a piece of her mind and scold him for ignoring his daughter, but now, actually facing the opportunity of being able to do so, Mary found her resolve faltering. She had looked into his eyes for mere moments and knew that he would be a very intimidating man. Ms. Hughes continued, "He's just in his study next door. We'll show you the way." Both women turned suddenly and before Mary knew what her feet were doing, she was following closely behind them.

They exited the bathroom and then the bedroom, continuing down the short hall before making another sharp right. Mary found herself to be growing more and more nervous with every step that she took. Her heart was pounding in her ears and despite desperately trying to think of things to say to him, her mind was perfectly, irritatingly blank. Mary saw in the distance the edge of the dinning room table, and knew that they were back on the northern side of the house. Ms. Hughes and Anna came to a sudden stop at the first door on the left. Mary finally found the unseen grandfather clock, which she had heard twice before. It stood to the right of the door. It was a foot taller than see was, made out of polished cherry wood, and its inner mechanics, face, and hands were all the color of the finest gold.

Ms. Hughes turned and address Mary in a quite, slightly trembling voice, revealing that she was perhaps just was nervous as Mary was. "This is Mr. Crawley's office. He'll have the final say in whether or not you get the position, although, I clearly expressed to him that I thought you would do a fabulous job."

Mary chest softened slightly as she was taken aback by the woman's kindness. "Thank you for that."

"Don't mention it my dear. I wouldn't have told him so, if I didn't believe it." The older woman smiled kindly at Mary and she felt a little more of the tension roll off her body.

"Good luck Mary." Anna spoke now and her voice was clear and confident, which again eased the tension in Mary's shoulders slightly. "I'm really pulling for you." Mary knew that Anna spoke the truth and her small smile produced a equally small smile from Mary as well. Before Mary could thank them again, the women turned at the same time and started walking down the hallway, before they turned left and disappeared into what Mary believed to be the kitchen.

Alone…Mary was alone. She felt the same crushing loneliness and escalating panic that she had felt as she exited the elevator, leaving William behind. In Anna and Ms. Hughes absence, the stress of the situation hit Mary like a truck. Again she had to tell herself to take slow, steadying breaths. She stood outside his door, as still as a statue, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only thing revealing that she was alive. Deeply in….slowly out…deeply in…slowly out. She tired to think of things that would ease her mind but failed miserably in the process. Deeply in…slowly out…deeply in…slowly out, just as Quinn had breathed over her shoulder while handing her crayon after crayon. Quinn…her angel's face permanently glued to her feet. Her small mouth never smiling, her beautiful clear eyes never sparkling with joy. Quinn, who needed her father but would have to settle for Mary in his absence. Quinn, who needed someone…who needed her. Quinn…

Mary's determination returned to her stronger than ever. She felt taller, lighter, and though her heart still hammered in her chest, it was from adrenaline not from fear. The man behind this door would not deny her the opportunity to care for his abandoned child. She lifted her right hand and gave two loud knocks, letting her enemy know that she was ready to battle him. She didn't bother taking in anymore steadying breaths because she no longer needed them. Her breathing was even, her head was held high.

She heard him loudly call to her on the other side of the door to come in. She didn't waste longer than a moment realizing how his deep voice felt like cool silk against her ears drums, before turning the door and entering into his office like she owned the place. He was standing next to a large mahogany desk, about thirty feet from where she stood in the doorway, and he was looking down at a several papers, fanned out in both of his large hands. She flung the door shut behind her, which issued a loud bang. It was much louder than she had intended it to be but the shock of it would not falter her determination and the pure purpose that drove her so confidently into the room.

Mr. Crawley looked up suddenly at the loud bang of the shutting door. Mary knew without a doubt that she hated the man. She hated him more passionately than she ever knew she was capable of. The feeling invigorated her and sickened her. Her skin tightened over her muscles and bones. Her breathing remained deep and even. She was a predator and he was her prey. She hated him. She hated his cowardice. She hated his wealth. She hated his superiority. She hated his weakness, his aversion, his vacancy, his selfishness.

As he looked up at her, his deep crystal blue eyes easily finding hers once more, Mary's bitter hatred of him, which had been surer than the morning mere moments before, wavered slightly. She hated him…she hated him…she…hated him? She knew that this was one of her defining life moments, something that would change her permanently, whether it be for the better or for the worse. Despite her valiant efforts to fight it, his intense gaze undid her where she stood. Her knees quaked, her breath caught, and Mary's heart caught fire in her chest.