Rogue

“I needed the air,” Maxine said, smiling at her. Zelda was plump and round faced, wore her hair in a thick braid, and was the same age as Maxine. She had never married, and had been a nanny since she was eighteen. Maxine followed her into the kitchen, where Sam was working on a drawing at the kitchen table, already in clean pajamas after a bath. Zelda quickly handed her employer a cup of tea. It was always comforting coming home to her, and knowing that everything was in control. Like Max, she was obsessively neat, and spent her life cleaning up after the kids, cooking for them, and chauffeuring them everywhere when their mother was at work. Maxine took over on the weekends. Officially, Zelda was off then, and she loved going to the theater whenever she could, but she usually stayed in her room behind the kitchen relaxing and reading. Her full loyalty was to the children and their mother. She had been their nanny for twelve years and was part of the family. She didn't think much of Blake, whom she considered handsome and spoiled, and a lousy father to the kids. She had always felt they deserved better than they got from him, and Maxine couldn't tell her she was wrong. She loved him. Zelda didn't.

The kitchen was decorated in bleached woods, with beige granite counters and a light hardwood floor. It was a cozy room they all congregated in, and there was a couch and a TV, where Zelda watched her soaps and talk shows. She quoted from them liberally, whenever the opportunity arose.

“Hi, Mom,” Sam said, hard at work with a purple crayon, looking up as his mother walked in.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?” She kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

“Good. Stevie threw up in school,” he said matter-of-factly, switching the purple crayon for green. He was drawing a house, a cowboy, and a rainbow. Maxine didn't read anything into it, he was a normal, happy kid. He missed his father less than the others, since he had never lived with him. His two older siblings were slightly more aware of their loss.

“That's too bad,” Maxine commented on the unfortunate Stevie. She hoped it was something he ate, not a new flu going around school. “You feel okay?”

“Yup.” Sam nodded, as Zelda looked into the oven and checked on dinner, and Daphne walked into the room. At thirteen, her body was developing new curves, and she had just started eighth grade. All three of them went to Dalton, and Maxine loved the school.

“Can I borrow your black sweater?” Daphne asked, helping herself to a slice of an apple Sam had been eating.

“Which one?” Maxine eyed her with caution.

“The one with the white fur on it? Emma's giving a party tonight,” Daphne said nonchalantly, trying to look like she didn't care, but it was obvious to her mother that she did. It was Friday, and lately there were parties almost every weekend.

“That's a pretty jazzy sweater for a party at Emma's. What kind of party? Boys?”

“Mmm … yeah … maybe …,” Daphne said, and Maxine smiled. “Maybe,” my eye, she thought. She knew perfectly well that Daphne would know all the details. And in Maxine's new Valentino sweater, she was trying to impress someone, for sure an eighth-grade boy.

“Don't you think that sweater's too old for you? What about something else?” She hadn't even worn it yet herself. She was making suggestions, when Jack walked in, still wearing cleats. Zelda screamed the minute she saw them and pointed to his feet.

“Get those things off my floor! Take them off right now!” she ordered, as he sat down on the floor, and took them off with a grin. Zelda kept them all in good order, there was no worry about that.

“You didn't play today, did you?” Maxine inquired, as she stooped to kiss her son. He was either playing sports or glued to his computer. He was the family computer expert, and always helped Maxine and his sister with theirs. No problem daunted him, and he could solve them all with ease.

“They canceled because of the rain.”

“I figured they would.” Since she had all of them present, she told them about Blake's Thanksgiving plans. “He wants you all for dinner Thanksgiving night. I think he'll be here for the weekend. You can stay there if you want,” she said casually. Blake had done fabulous rooms for them in his fiftieth-floor penthouse, full of terrific contemporary art, and state-of-the-art video and stereo equipment. They had an incredible view of the city from their rooms, a theater where they could watch movies, and a game room with a pool table and every electronic game made. They loved staying with him.

“Are you coming too?” Sam asked, looking up at her from his drawing. He liked it better when she was there. In many ways, his father was a stranger to him, and he was happier with his mother near at hand. He seldom spent the night, although Jack and Daphne did.

“I might come for dinner, if you want me to. We're going to Grandma and Grampa's for lunch, so I'll be turkeyed out. You'll have a good time with your dad.”