Chapter 2

Our lives settled into a comfortable routine. The kids adored Aimee, and she was obviously very good with them. Jake and Ethan still called her "Cookie Lady," but eventually Beth gave up trying to figure out why. Aimee picked them up from preschool around 2:00 each day (except Fridays), and took them to the park, or one of the local playgrounds, or just went home and watched TV with them 'til Beth or I got home.

I didn't see Aimee very much. Beth worked as a dental hygienist at an office only ten minutes from our house. My job, on the other hand, was at a Department of Transportation office thirty minutes away. So, most days, Beth got home and Aimee headed back to Colby-Sawyer well before I arrived.

A few times, I saw her driving back down our street in her red Honda, and she'd wave enthusiastically to me as we passed.

Three weeks after Aimee started working for us, I left work early. I'd finished up a project review meeting at 2:15, and just didn't feel like going back to my desk. It was a rainy Tuesday, and I simply wanted to go home.

And, of course, I couldn't lie, at least not to myself. I also wanted to see Aimee.

When I got home, the rain still pouring down in sheets, I was treated to the most adorable sight in my family room. Ethan was curled up in my recliner, fast asleep. Jakie was asleep too, under an afghan on the couch, his head resting on Aimee's lap. She was watching "Oprah" on TV and didn't hear me come in.

I watched her, gently stroking my son's hair, engrossed in the television program. She was wearing a black skirt which had ridden an inch or two above her knees. Her long legs were stretched out, bare ankles crossed gracefully on top of a pile of magazines on the coffee table.

"Hi Aimee," I said softly.

She started at the sound of my voice, though not enough to wake Jake. "Hi, Jim. You're home early."

I nodded. "Couldn't take any more meetings. How're the boys today?"

"Wonderful, as always. You and Beth have done a great job with them."

I nodded, thinking to myself, the boys were the only thing Beth and I ever did well.

Aimee eased herself off the couch, setting Jake's head gently down onto the cushions. He stirred briefly but stayed asleep. Aimee stood and stretched, her breasts moving marvelously under her loose top. The shirt rode up just enough to show off a stretch of smooth belly marred only by her pierced navel.

She crouched down to pick up her sandals from under the coffee table, and I got a brief but entrancing view down her shirt, the upper swells of her breasts visible for just a moment. She stood back up and winked at me, my face reddening as I realized she knew just where I was looking.

"I guess I should go home," she said quietly, squeezing past me into the hallway, her bare arm brushing against my left sleeve.

I followed her back down the hall. "Wait, Aimee. You don't have to go home - I mean, I don't mind if you stay for a while. We can talk," I said, gesturing to the kitchen table.

She looked at me for a few seconds without speaking, and I nervously wondered if I'd pushed my luck too far. Finally, she spoke up. "Okay," she said, and she swiveled and headed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

I pulled my tie off and tossed it on the kitchen counter. Opening the fridge, I said to Aimee, "I sure could use a beer - how about you?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I cursed myself. Offering a beer to my kids' babysitter? My gorgeous yet underage, kids' babysitter? I was playing into every older-man-seduces-younger-girl cliché in the book.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Jim..." Aimee said. Something in her tone, though, made me think she was only refusing for propriety's sake.

"Come on," I said, pulling two bottles of Sam Adams Octoberfest out of the refrigerator. "Beth won't be home for another two hours," I said, glancing at the clock. "I promise, I won't tell her."

I popped the tops off both icy-cold bottles and handed one to Aimee. She cocked her head and looked at me. "No, I suppose you wouldn't tell her, now, would you? You never told her that we'd met," she said, her last sentence clearly not a question.

I sputtered and choked, nearly spitting out the swig of beer I'd just taken. Finally, I managed to swallow it, and shook my head vehemently. "No way. In the first place, it would just seem too weird, I don't know if she'd believe it was just a coincidence."

"And in the second place, she'd never have hired you if she knew you were to blame for the fudgesicles."

Aimee giggled, a musical, lilting sound that made me smile. "No, I suppose you're right. And I figured you hadn't told her when she kept asking me how the kids gave me my nickname."

My smile widened, and I sat down at the table across from her. "No, I haven't. I professed ignorance. She at first thought you were bribing them with cookies or something. But since they haven't been hyper - at least, any more hyper than usual - she gave up on it."

Aimee took a long draft from her beer and set it back down on the table. "So, Jim, tell me your life story."

Over the next hour, and one more beer apiece, Aimee and I got to know each other better. I told her about growing up in Rhode Island, and a little about my years at Boston College, where I got my bachelor's and master's degrees in civil engineering.

She told me about her family life - she was from Maine, but came to New Hampshire for Colby-Sawyer's art school. She'd started out as a graphic design major before shifting to child development. Her parents were still married, and she had a sister still in high school.

I told her about my disastrous first marriage to Kira. "She was basically my first serious girlfriend, the first girl I lived with, my first - well, she was my first in a lot of ways, and I didn't really know what I wanted in a partner. We got married just after I got my undergrad, and she made my two years of graduate school a living nightmare."

"As soon as I got my master's, we divorced and I left Boston as quickly as possible."

"So you ended up here?" Aimee asked.

"Yep. Took the job with NH Dot that summer and I lived in a little tiny apartment for three years, basically as a hermit. After Kira, I really didn't want to date anyone else."

Then, I told her about how I'd met Beth at the dentist's office where she used to work.

"I thought she was cute right away. It's hard to ask someone out when they've got metal implements jammed in your mouth," I said, smiling at the memory. "My question probably came out as 'Wffll eww gllout wif me?' but Beth got the idea."

"Anyway," I said, continuing. "We dated for about eight months, and I was just thinking if I should ask Beth to move in with me. I wasn't sure if I should, but then - well, then the situation changed."

"Why? What happened?" Aimee asked. She was either really fascinated by my story, or an excellent faker.

I hesitated, not sure what to say next. My silence was broken by "Daddy!" as Ethan walked into the room, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

"Hi, Eth. We were just talking about you," I said, my eyes widening as I realized I'd let the cat out of the bag. I picked him up and swung him into my lap, blushing as I looked back at Aimee.

Her face was a mirror image of my own, her mouth open. "Oh... I see," she said, softly.

Ethan rubbed his face on the soft cotton of my dress shirt, and I rubbed his back. "Did you have a nice nap, Ethan?" He was cranky, like he often was after just waking up, and he didn't answer, continuing to rub his face on my shirt.

Aimee looked at me quietly, a sad expression on her face. "I guess I should go home," she said quietly. She finished her beer and stood up. "Oh - one more thing. I thought I might take the kids to the park tomorrow, if this weather clears up," she said, nodding at the rain-streaked windows.

"The park, Eth - did you hear that?" I asked him. He grunted into my shoulder.

Aimee smiled at him affectionately. "Anyway, Beth always asks me to call her if I'm not coming straight home with the boys. I always feel so bad to interrupt her if she's with a patient. Would it be better if I called you instead?"

Now, it was my turn to stare ahead in silence. Aimee looked at me impassively, only the slightest hint of a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth.

My mind raced. Was it just an excuse to get my cell phone number? But it sounded like, and certainly could be, a legitimate request.

In the end, that's all that mattered. I shifted the still-logy Ethan to my other shoulder, and pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. I extracted a business card from inside. Grabbing a pen off the table, I scribbled a number on the back and handed the card to Aimee.

"That's my office line on the front, answered by the main receptionist. Obviously, if I'm in a meeting or something, and it's an emergency, she can interrupt me. But the number on the back is my cell. You're welcome to call that to let me know what your plans are for Jakie and Ethan each day."

Silently, I wondered - "Did I just ask Aimee to call me every day?"

She turned the card over in her hands, reading the printed side. "Senior Transportation Engineer II - ooh, sounds important," she said, winking at me.

"Don't let it fool you. It just means I can be blamed for traffic jams," I said.

Beth was thrilled to hear that I'd given my number to Aimee. The thought that I (or Aimee) might have ulterior motives never crossed her mind.

"That's great, Jim. This way I won't have to worry about getting calls and leaving my patients in the chair. I really appreciate that," she said, kissing me on the lips as we washed dishes that evening.

And apparently, she really did appreciate it. We had sex later that night for the first time in a few months. It was standard, uninspired, missionary-position sex with the lights out - the same as it had always been with Beth. But, as I learned long ago, there's no such thing as bad sex; only sex and better sex.

The next day, true to her word, Aimee called me from the park. "Jim Robinson," I answered.

"Hello, Jim Robinson, this is the babysitter of your dreams," Aimee said, before dissolving into peals of laughter.

"Hi, Aimee. Where are the kids?" I asked, fearful that they would have heard (and comprehended) what she just said to me.

"On the swings," she said. "Don't worry, I'm watching them."

"I'm sure you are," I said. "Listen, about yesterday. I - well, it's just that I - " I stammered, trying to apologize for the revelation about Beth's premarital pregnancy.

"Don't worry about it," Aimee said smoothly. "I enjoyed drinking a couple of cold ones with you - maybe we can do it again sometime?"

"I'd like that," I said sincerely.

"Me too," she said quietly. "Okay, Jimbo, I gotta go. Ethan wants me to push him on the swing. Bye for now."

"Bye," I said as the phone disconnected. Glancing down at my cell phone, I saw her number still displayed on the caller ID banner, and I stored it in my phone.

"Just in case," I told myself. "For emergencies - after all, she is my kids' babysitter."

The next day, she called me again, around 3:00. "Hi big Jim, how are you today?"

I grinned. Her light-hearted attitude was infectious, and it cheered me up a bit from the lousy day I was having at work. "Much better now. How's my favorite 'cookie lady'?" Suddenly afraid I'd been too bold, I added, "And how are my boys?"

She laughed brightly. "We're all fine. I took the boys by the park again today, now they're taking naps upstairs."

"So," she continued, her voice deepening. "What are you wearing?"

I laughed, but felt a stirring in my loins from her voice. "Well, of course I'm stark naked, like all the other engineers here."

She laughed again, louder. "Oh god, Jim, don't make me picture an office full of naked engineers. Unless they all look like you or - " she said, stopping abruptly.

Even though she couldn't see me, my blush deepened. "So, uh, what are YOU wearing?" I asked, trying to imitate her husky voice from earlier.

"Well, a pair of jeans," she said, "and a white C-S t-shirt, and my blue Cons. Oh, and because Jake likes to play in water fountains, half of my T-shirt is pretty drenched."

I swallowed hard, picturing Aimee in a wet, white t-shirt. "Yeah, um... he does like to play with water," I said, my mind racing.

"Anyway," I said, "I hate for you to sit around in a wet shirt. Why don't you go upstairs to our room and get one of my T-shirts. Tall dresser, third drawer."

"Oh no, Jim, I couldn't..."

"Of course. It's no problem. My shirts'll be big on you, but I can't really offer you one of Beth's. I think she might be annoyed if I let you - or anyone else - wear something of hers."