“You said you knew my aunt,” she states. “I haven’t heard about you.” “Yes, we’ve been friends for a few years.” “Hmm. My dad told me you were a ballerina.” Her voice is heavy with disbelief. “I am, yeah. I’ve danced since I was Sam’s age. I’ve been performing with the New York Ballet.” “Well, not now. Now you’re a nanny.” I grit my teeth. She’s still speaking without looking at me, her voice dismissive. It’s not hard to imagine why other nannies have struggled. “Yes. I injured my hip quite badly and it needs rest before I can perform again.” That makes her turn. Hazel eyes sweep appraisingly
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