THE BLACKWOOD ESTATE (1)

IVY’S POV

There were no security guards in front of Blackwood estate. There wasn’t any intercom either.

I stood in front of the giant iron gates, looking around and trying to figure out how to get inside.

Was I really supposed to knock on this heavy metal? I looked around the gate again and when I found no way open it, my answer came back to me. Yes, I was.

As I stepped forward to try knocking, a computerized voice spoke from a hidden speaker near the stone wall, making me jump.

"Welcome to the Blackwood Estate. Please scan your entry code now."

My eyes widened. An entry code?

That was when I remembered the text message Mrs. Gable had sent me this morning about a code I needed.

I quickly pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolled to her message and held the QR code up to a glass panel on the wall. A red laser scanned it with a quick beep.

"Code accepted. Access granted to Ivy Hayes," the electronic voice announced.

With a heavy hiss, the gates slowly swung open.

"Wow," I muttered to myself as I watched them slide open. "So people really live like this in this world? Fuck poverty."

I let out a deep breath and started walking up the winding driveway. When I rounded the corner and saw the actual mansion, my breath caught.

The house was spectacular.

It was built with smooth gray stones, soaring glass windows, and steep roofs. Perfectly manicured gardens were spread out everywhere just like it was in those luxury homes I used to see on I*******m.

In front of the house were a row of shiny cars I knew cost more than I would ever make in this lifetime. The whole place was also quiet and the only audible sound was the water splashing from the marble water fountain.

I looked down at the black tank top I’d tucked into a boyfriend jeans and my white sneakers. They were the best clothes I had but I still felt completely out of place.

But any doubts about whether I belonged here vanished when my mind reminded me of my reality. With Helen Carter trying to chase me out of town, this job was my only option to survive.

I walked up the stone steps and pressed the silver doorbell. Just as I was about to ring it a second time, the door swung open.

An elderly woman stood in the doorway. She was dressed in a neat gray dress and a crisp white apron and her brown hair was resting loosely around her shoulders, a few stray pieces framing her face.

She leaned slightly against the doorframe, her hands trembling just a bit as she straightened her posture to look at me.

Mrs. Gable was right. This woman was too old to handle this housekeeping job.

At first, her eyes were strict as they ran down my cheap clothes, assessing me. But as soon as she realized who I was, her expression softened into a warm smile.

"You must be Ivy," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Come in, dear. I’ve been expecting you."

"Thank you, ma'am," I told her as I stepped inside the house.

The entrance hall was just as beautiful as the outside. The floors were a polished white marble that reflected the light from a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. It was beautiful but it was also so quiet that I could hear my own breathing.

"I just realized I didn’t introduce myself. I am Mrs. Reynolds, the head housekeeper," she said as we kept walking.

“I’m Ivy Hayes”. I told her, still looking around the house.

“Yeah. Mrs. Gable told me. Come this way. Let’s talk in the small sitting room."

I followed her down a long hallway lined with oil paintings into a cozy room with leather chairs and a roaring fireplace. Mrs. Reynolds motioned for me to sit and took the chair across from me and then picked up a manila folder.

"So, Ivy," She began, opening the folder. "Mrs. Gable spoke very highly of you. She told me you are hardworking, honest, and very patient. How old are you, dear?"

"I'm twenty," I answered, sitting up a little straighter to try and look professional.

She nodded, noting it down on the paper in the folder. "Twenty. You are still quite young. Tell me honestly, have you ever worked as a full-time nanny before?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't,"

“What about babysitting?”

“No”. I said, trying to keep my voice steady so I don’t sound defensive, even as a frown crossed her features. "I’ve only worked at Mrs. Gable’s diner but I used to look after the regular customers' kids sometimes. I’m also a very fast learner”.

Mrs. Reynolds tapped her pen against the folder, studying my face for a few seconds. "While I appreciate your honesty, I want you to understand that taking care of a one year old child isn’t going to be as easy as it sounds. Especially for someone who has no experience with kids. I need to be sure that you’ll know how to handle her getting sick in the middle of the night or crying for hours nonstop”.

"Okay, I know I’ve never dealt with a baby before but this is something I can do," I admitted, looking straight into her eyes. “If she won't stop crying, I’d probably check the basics first. See if she needs a diaper change or a bottle or something. But if she feels hot or seems like she's in pain, I wouldn't hesisate to draw Mr. Blackwood’s attention to it. I’m going to do my very best to make sure she’s comfortable and happy”.

Mrs. Reynolds stopped tapping her pen. Her expression didn't change right away but she nodded slowly and wrote something down.

"How do I know you’re not lying, dear? What if all you want is the money and you will only pretend to care for her when Mr. Blackwood is around? Why should I trust you, Miss Hayes?”