The Mafia's Nanny
She just looked at me for one long, silent moment, and then she was gone.
The next morning started at 6:30 AM with the sound of little feet running past my door. I got dressed quickly in jeans and a soft sweater, practical, approachable. In the kitchen, I found a woman in her sixties with a kind face and wary eyes scrambling eggs.
“You must be Bella,” she said. “I’m Maria. I cook and… well, I try to help with the little ones since the last nanny left.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Maria.” I could see Luca already in his booster seat, banging a spoon. Sophia sat beside him, methodically arranging cereal pieces in a line.