"You can count on me to be careful"

Friday morning was an unusually hectic one in the Everett household. The entire family was up before dawn, due to Butch's impatience and anxiety about being properly packed and ready for the scout bus pick up. He was determined not to be left behind, and woke everyone up at four in the morning when his attempt at fixing breakfast filled the entire kitchen with smoke. Luckily Nanny had been at Butch's and the kitchen's rescue, her efficient and perky self neatly dressed and groomed while she chased smoke out the back door and the kitchen window.

The Professor, on the other hand, barely managed to stagger down the stairs, blurry-eyed and panicked, carrying the half-asleep Prudence with an anxious Hal on his heels. The strong smell of smoke had reached the second floor, and suspecting the worst the Professor had gathered the children and was prepared to flee the house.

"Crisis averted, Professor," Nanny told him while flapping a dish towel at the remaining smoke. "No fires to put out, but I'm afraid we've lost another frying pan to Butch's underdeveloped culinary skills."

The Professor signed and Hal groaned.

"Oh, brother," the thirteen-year-old said as he headed out of the kitchen. "Come on, Prudence," he told his sister, "we might as well get ready for the day."

As Prudence took hold of her oldest brother's hand she remarked to Butch, "Don't wake us up by burning the eggs again, Butch. It doesn't smell so good and it upsets Daddy." She was interrupted by Waldo's barking. "And Waldo." The cuckoo clock began to cuckoo on the hour and Prudence turned to Butch again, "and the cuckoo."

The Professor sat down heavily on a kitchen chair and called the contrite Butch to his side. He then delivered a brief lecture on not using the stove without adult supervision. Butch nodded and swallowed hard, afraid of what his punishment might entail.

"But I can still go camping, can't I Dad? I mean, it really was an accident," the boy's eyes were huge and suspiciously bright.

"I know it was Butch, but you've got to be more careful," the Professor was rubbing his tired eyes and nodded his thanks when Nanny set a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

"I've tried to tell you that thinking before you act and being accountable for your actions is a way of proving to me that you are ready for more responsibility. Now," the Professor's voice was stern, but gentle, "do you think I can allow you to go away for two whole nights and not worry you'll get into this kind of mischief again?" He waved his hand to include the still smoky air in the kitchen. "Can you tell me I don't have to worry about you?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Dad!" Butch's eyes were sincere. "You can count on me to be careful."

The Professor looked at his son for a long moment, and then nodded.

"Alright then, Butch. Finish getting ready," he smiled at the boy and tousled his blond hair.

"Thanks Dad!" Butch hugged his father briefly then raced out of the room and pounded up the stairs.

The Professor sighed, smiling briefly at Nanny as she sat down at the table next to him.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm sure you are, Professor," Nanny smiled back encouragingly. "I believe scouting is an excellent place for Butch to prove his ability to be responsible. He's just overly enthusiastic at times, and that's what gets him into trouble."

"I suspect," the Professor mused," that's what gets all of us into trouble at one time or another. Acting without thinking, rushing forward enthusiastically without considering consequences, seeing something we want and grabbing an opportunity…" He was gesturing with one hand stretched towards her, and noticing the movement stopped and dropped his hand to the table self-consciously.

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat and took another sip of coffee. He was suddenly aware he had rushed downstairs without a robe or slippers and was sitting at the table talking to Nanny in disheveled, thin, cotton pajamas and barefooted. It was intimate and disconcerting in the pre-dawn.

"I'd better get dressed and ready for work," the Professor said, rising from the table and taking his coffee cup with him.

"Oh, you have hours left to sleep Professor," Nanny told him. "I can get the boys off for scouting and Prudence ready for school."

"No," he murmured, seemingly lost in thought. "I think the sooner I'm out and off to work today the better." Answering Nanny's near frown, he replied, "Lots of work to do today. It promises to be a long day and I wouldn't want to be late for an excellent dinner." Then he winked at her in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and headed for his room.

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The day that had promised to be a long one for Harold Everett held its promise. He had been acting chair for his department during the short medical absence of Professor Fairbanks. And throughout that time, he found that whatever envy he'd held for the man for beating him out of the department chair position had vanished. In the ten days or so of covering for Fairbanks, an abundance of administrative headaches and hang-ups had surfaced that he'd only had glimpses of before. And the political aspects of the position held no glamour for him. Professor Everett found he would rather face a roomful of angry students challenging their grades, or even his teaching methods, than face one positioning colleague trying to manipulate his favor. Even the fact that his day couldn't end with his last class tried his patience considerably.

Professor Everett generally attended department functions with good grace, but after making his rounds and saying whatever was appropriate for the occasion he would slip out unnoticed. Not so when he was acting chair. His long day prolonged into the early evening hours as he was expected to stay, at least until the Dean and the guest of honor left, and so far neither showed any signs of making an early departure.

Now Harold Everett found himself smiling politely at the guest of honor, listening as the man droned on about his new position at U.C.L.A., and how hard it was for his wife handling all of the details of their relocation. The Professor sipped his drink and grinned to himself thinking: "Nanny could handle all of those details and take on endearing herself to the new neighbors and the new faculty before we'd even settled in. I'm…we're lucky to have her."

The thought of Nanny and the special dinner she was preparing for him raised his anticipation of wanting to leave as soon as possible. Discreetly, he glanced at his watch, but evidently not discreetly enough.

"Hey, Hal," Don Stinson slapped him on the back as he approached, and leaned a heavy hand on the Professor's shoulder. "Looking to leave early, old man? Got a special date?" The parapsychologist winked at him and then turned to their departing colleague.

"This guy's a regular "Swinging Sam", Stinson said, referring to the visiting psychology professor who had been and gone the year before. "Swinging Sam" had quite the reputation as a womanizer, and Harold Everett still disliked recalling that the man had briefly dated Nanny.

"Got a new girl every few weeks, don't you Hal?" Don eyed the crowd. "Is there a new prospect lurking here? I hear Marge is still interested, even after you cooled it with her."

"No, no, no one," Professor Everett forced a grin and finished his drink a bit too quickly. "Kids at home, you know. Just wanted to say goodnight to my daughter and…"

"…and to the cute, little housekeeper" Don Stinson finished. To their departing colleague he said sotto voce, "Hal's kids have got the cutest little nanny. She's got a British accent and everything. I guess if I had a doll like that waiting at home for me…"

"Don!" Harold Everett shrugged off his friend's hand. "I think you've had enough to drink. Sorry Ed," he said to the guest of honor, "maybe I'd better leave now and see that Don gets home alright. Best of luck to you." He escorted Don towards the exit murmuring apologies and goodbyes as he did so, angry at his friend's rude comments and yet grateful to him for giving him an excuse to leave. The man's reputation might get a bit tarnished, but after what he had implied tonight about Nanny, Don deserved the metaphorical black eye.

"But all I said was…" Stinson protested as they left. To the Professor's continued annoyance, Don did prove too drunk to drive himself home, so by the time he brought his friend to his door and started for home himself, it was later than he'd hoped.

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It was nearly eight o'clock when the Professor let himself in the house and locked the door behind him. The delicious smell of coq co vin filled the foyer, making his mouth water. The house was dimly lit and uncharacteristically quiet. He reminded himself that only Nanny and Prudence were at home. The Professor went into the kitchen, expecting to find them there, but the kitchen was empty and the dining area lit with only one lamp.

He saw that the table was set beautifully for two, with the best china, silver, wine glasses and linen napkins. This was definitely not the usual table setting when feeding three growing, active children. And the centerpiece was freshly cut red roses from Nanny's garden. His garden. Whatever. The Professor found at times he couldn't tell what belonged to him anymore and what in fact, was her domain. Generally he thought of things as "theirs". Even the children. Shaking his head with a rueful grin, he realized there was also a bottle of wine on the table as well as unlit candles. Roses, wine, candlelight…no, not a usual table setting at all.

On his way upstairs to clean up for dinner and say goodnight to Prudence, the Professor passed the living room and stopped. It might be just a whim, but he decided to lay preparations for a fire in the fireplace and angle one loveseat in full view of the potential fire. He also moved the other loveseat against one wall, leaving plenty of floor space near the hi-fi. Telling himself he was being foolish, he nonetheless glanced through the records stored near the phonograph. He selected soft, quiet music, suitable for slow dancing and placed the records on the turntable. Just in case Nanny indulged his suggestion of practicing their dancing skills, he thought it might be best to be prepared.

Taking the steps two at a time to the second floor, the Professor could hear Nanny's soft, musical voice reading a bedtime story to Prudence. He smiled to himself. Prudence adored Nanny, as did Hal and Butch. But Prudence had lost her mother at such an early age he worried she may be the most affected by the loss. And being a girl, she may feel the need for a mother more acutely than the boys. Not for the first time a stab of guilt hit the Professor, and he wondered if by allowing Nanny to take the role of his children's mother he had not sought hard enough to find them – and him - a woman to permanently fill the role of wife and mother in the home.

Again, he could hear Nanny's gentle voice coming from down the hall, and thinking about the potentialities of the evening, the evenings, ahead, he smiled to himself and pushed any other anxieties from his thoughts.

Professor Everett surprised himself by taking a quick shower and shaving carefully instead of just changing clothes. Then he dressed casually in a dark blue pullover and dark slacks, not forgetting to splash on a little aftershave. He told himself it had been an uncommonly long and stressful day, and he wanted to be refreshed and comfortable when enjoying his dinner. What he didn't tell himself was that he wanted to be at his best for what he wouldn't admit to himself was a date.

Leaving his room, he made his way down the hall to Prudence's room. Nanny was sitting on the child's bed, her soft voice even softer, signaling the little girl was nearly asleep. For a moment, the Professor watched them both in silence, Nanny's eyes downcast on the page she was reading, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her flawless, peaches and cream skin. Her hair was pulled back in a wide bow, and she was wearing a high-collared lacy blouse and a long skirt, both cream colored. She looked lovely, as always, but the Professor almost mourned the fact that her shapely legs were covered by the long skirt, and in fact that so much of her was covered by the modest clothes she favored. Then he chided himself for his musings. That she was a beautiful woman was certain and that he was attracted to her was a fact, but anything developing between them was a complete unknown, something he doubted even Nanny could intuit.

Sensing his presence, both Nanny and Prudence looked towards him and smiled in tandem. He was struck by how much they looked like mother and daughter and could sense the ease and the love between them. Did all nannies and their charges share this loving bond? The Professor didn't know the answer to that question; he only counted himself fortunate that his children shared love with this particular and remarkable nanny.

"Daddy," Prudence lifted her arms to him for an embrace and a kiss goodnight.

As he hugged her, Prudence remarked "I missed you tonight, Daddy. Nanny said you're going to have a special dinner tonight. Why Daddy? Is it your birthday?"

"No, Darling. It isn't my birthday." The Professor tucked the covers around his daughter tightly. "Nanny is just being nice and made me a dinner you and the boys wouldn't like."

Prudence made a face. "It isn't octopus again, is it Nanny?"

"No, Sweetheart," Nanny answered her, laughing. "It is chicken, but in a sauce make with wine."

"Oh, is that what I smelled"? The child wrinkled her nose. "No wonder you need roses and candles on the table – to hide the smell."

"Something like that, Prudence," her father told her. When he bent closely to kiss his daughter's forehead she moved to kiss his cheek.

"You smell nice, Daddy. Like when you go out," she said. "And your cheeks are smooth like in the morning and not rough like at night." Her eyes were closing and she was starting to fall asleep. "Are you going out, Daddy?"

"No, Darling. I'm staying home and having dinner here with Nanny."

"Good." Prudence's eyes were closed as she snuggled into her pillow and hugged her doll tightly. "Nanny smells real nice too. You go ahead and smell her Daddy, if you don't believe me.

Nanny and the Professor looked at one another and smiled. Then Nanny rose from the bed, kissed the sleeping child's cheek and turned off her bedside lamp. Now the room was illuminated by only a small, nightlight glowing near the floorboard. They both exited Prudence's room and when Nanny closed the door quietly, she turned to find the Professor standing very close to her. As he leaned even closer, she found herself holding her breath fighting both the urge to pull back and the urge to lean towards him. Instead, she stood very still while the Professor took in a deep breath.

"Prudence was right," he said softly. He was looking into her eyes, but in the dim hallway his deep blue eyes were unreadable. "You do smell nice. Very nice. Lilac?" he guessed.

"Lavender," she replied, slightly breathless. Then she slipped past him and led their way down the stairs.

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