My chest tightened. “But a monster whose money you gladly took?”
“She owes me.” Mark’s jaw clenched. “She didn’t fight hard enough for me.”
“You were eight,” I said softly. “You wouldn’t have known whether she fought or not.”
Mark stood abruptly. “Don’t defend her. It’s over. She’s gone.”
He headed to our bedroom.
But it didn’t feel over for me.
“She owes me.”
***
The following morning, after Mark left for work, I called the nanny agency.
“Margaret?” the coordinator confirmed. “Yes, she’s been with us for six years. Excellent record. Families request her by name.”
“Has there ever been a complaint?”
“No, ma’am. She’s one of our most trusted caregivers.”
That didn’t fit the picture Mark had painted.
I called the nanny agency.
I found her number in the employee paperwork she’d signed. I shouldn’t have called her without telling Mark. I knew that. But if I hadn’t, I would’ve spent the rest of my life wondering.
Margaret agreed to meet me at a nearby restaurant the same day.
I brought the twins along.
“Thank you for reaching out,” she said gently.
“I need to hear your side,” I replied.