The Billionaire's Nanny: A BWWM Romantic Comedy by Mia Caldwell Page A
Authors: Mia Caldwell
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Beacon Hill society formal party ever, you could just double it.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re lucky. White tie, gowns, the works. And, by about ninety minutes into the reception, Elise’s dad had realized who my dad was. He stormed up to my father’s table. ‘You’re Edward Corbin Pierce, aren’t you?’ And my dad was like, ‘yeah, we’ve met, maybe you should sit down.’”
Corbin is getting into the telling of the story, he’s slurring speech and giving a grand performance.
"’Edward Corbin Pierce, editor of the Harvard Crimson in 1968?’ And my dad says ‘Yes?’ and Charles punches him. Right in the face."
“What? Why?”
"Because in 1968, the Harvard-Yale football game ended in a 29-29 tie when Harvard came from behind in the last minute. The Crimson , my father, published the headline ’ Harvard Defeats Yale 29-29.’"
“That’s really funny!”
“Yes, to most people, but to Charles Hamilton, Yale Quarterback, it was slander. It festered in his small mind for what, almost forty years? And then he punched his daughter’s father-in-law in the face at her wedding.”
“Let me guess, Elise took his side?”
“You’re a quick study. So I spent my wedding night on the pull out couch of the bridal suite.”
“Pft, should’ve made her take the couch.”
“Oh I would, now, as a 32 year old, having–as they say–been through some shit. But I wasn’t always the preening alpha male you see before you.”
I can see his smile in the moonlight and I return it.
“No, I was 21 and just trying to make things go well. For once. On the up side, she did get to have the most talked-about wedding of the season. Just like she wanted.”
“I’ll bet. I assume things did not get better?”
“No. To be fair, our honeymoon trip was pleasant enough. We spent a month taking the train around Europe, staying in nice hotels, eating good food, seeing great art. Even Elise didn’t have a lot to complain about once she got past the lack of ice cubes. But as soon as we came back and I started working, she was worse than ever. She’d decided not to get a job right away because all that sightseeing had convinced her she should open a gallery. But she wanted to make our house perfect first and she threw herself into that, tormenting every carpenter and tradesman in Boston. Nothing was ever good enough.”
Corbin sighs, and I can see that his shoulders are a bit slumped again. It’s clear that getting this story out is hard work and I squeeze his hand. He turns and gives me a small smile before continuing on.
"After the recession in 2008, there was a big push for textile companies to move back to America. So I was looking into closing the factories that had moved to India in the 70s and reopening them in South Carolina, where other companies had gone. So I started taking trips to India, to see what would be involved in that. When you get to see India, you’ll know what it means when I say that India was a nice break from all the noise in our house. The constant hammering and sawing and Elise barking orders and her mother there all the time, badgering the workmen. Yeah, the Gujarat cacophony was welcome ."
“Wow.”
“Yeah. But eventually Elise got fed up with my travel. Once the house was more or less to her liking, she threw herself into opening her gallery. And once she had that going, she wanted to entertain various art dealers and it annoyed her when I wasn’t home to present the front of the Perfect Couple. I claimed I had to be in India so often so that the move would go smoothly, but in truth I was dragging my feet so that I could spend more time there. So, she announced she was pregnant and that I had to stop travelling because the stress wasn’t good for the baby. When I told her we’d need to move to South Carolina, to open the new plant, she refused. She told me, again, that I should work for her father. And I refused. So we fought, every day. We fought in childbirth class. The
“I can’t.”
“You’re lucky. White tie, gowns, the works. And, by about ninety minutes into the reception, Elise’s dad had realized who my dad was. He stormed up to my father’s table. ‘You’re Edward Corbin Pierce, aren’t you?’ And my dad was like, ‘yeah, we’ve met, maybe you should sit down.’”
Corbin is getting into the telling of the story, he’s slurring speech and giving a grand performance.
"’Edward Corbin Pierce, editor of the Harvard Crimson in 1968?’ And my dad says ‘Yes?’ and Charles punches him. Right in the face."
“What? Why?”
"Because in 1968, the Harvard-Yale football game ended in a 29-29 tie when Harvard came from behind in the last minute. The Crimson , my father, published the headline ’ Harvard Defeats Yale 29-29.’"
“That’s really funny!”
“Yes, to most people, but to Charles Hamilton, Yale Quarterback, it was slander. It festered in his small mind for what, almost forty years? And then he punched his daughter’s father-in-law in the face at her wedding.”
“Let me guess, Elise took his side?”
“You’re a quick study. So I spent my wedding night on the pull out couch of the bridal suite.”
“Pft, should’ve made her take the couch.”
“Oh I would, now, as a 32 year old, having–as they say–been through some shit. But I wasn’t always the preening alpha male you see before you.”
I can see his smile in the moonlight and I return it.
“No, I was 21 and just trying to make things go well. For once. On the up side, she did get to have the most talked-about wedding of the season. Just like she wanted.”
“I’ll bet. I assume things did not get better?”
“No. To be fair, our honeymoon trip was pleasant enough. We spent a month taking the train around Europe, staying in nice hotels, eating good food, seeing great art. Even Elise didn’t have a lot to complain about once she got past the lack of ice cubes. But as soon as we came back and I started working, she was worse than ever. She’d decided not to get a job right away because all that sightseeing had convinced her she should open a gallery. But she wanted to make our house perfect first and she threw herself into that, tormenting every carpenter and tradesman in Boston. Nothing was ever good enough.”
Corbin sighs, and I can see that his shoulders are a bit slumped again. It’s clear that getting this story out is hard work and I squeeze his hand. He turns and gives me a small smile before continuing on.
"After the recession in 2008, there was a big push for textile companies to move back to America. So I was looking into closing the factories that had moved to India in the 70s and reopening them in South Carolina, where other companies had gone. So I started taking trips to India, to see what would be involved in that. When you get to see India, you’ll know what it means when I say that India was a nice break from all the noise in our house. The constant hammering and sawing and Elise barking orders and her mother there all the time, badgering the workmen. Yeah, the Gujarat cacophony was welcome ."
“Wow.”
“Yeah. But eventually Elise got fed up with my travel. Once the house was more or less to her liking, she threw herself into opening her gallery. And once she had that going, she wanted to entertain various art dealers and it annoyed her when I wasn’t home to present the front of the Perfect Couple. I claimed I had to be in India so often so that the move would go smoothly, but in truth I was dragging my feet so that I could spend more time there. So, she announced she was pregnant and that I had to stop travelling because the stress wasn’t good for the baby. When I told her we’d need to move to South Carolina, to open the new plant, she refused. She told me, again, that I should work for her father. And I refused. So we fought, every day. We fought in childbirth class. The
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