Ha, no wonder Mr. Raymond didn’t mind her wearing dirty clothes to the interview, didn’t bother doing a thorough background check, and set such high requirements…
Well, Jolene felt a bit troubled—this kid was really hard to handle…
Help! She didn’t know how to take care of children!
While eating, she racked her brain for a solution. She couldn’t just let mother and daughter eat their fill while leaving Ben outside to fend for himself—if Mr. Raymond saw that, she’d be in big trouble.
“Emma, come eat with Mom on the lawn,” Jolene suddenly said.
She had no choice. Even if she couldn’t get Ben to eat on his own, she could have Emma do an eating show right in front of him.
Not eating, huh? She’d have a child Ben’s age—one who looked even smaller than him—do a live demonstration, silently telling him: “Look, even this little girl can feed herself. Are you going to make an adult spoon-feed you?”
Emma looked down timidly at Jolene, reluctance in her big eyes, but she didn’t say a word. She obediently picked up her plate and slowly walked toward the glass door.
Jolene sighed. It seemed Ben’s words had really gotten to the child.
Mother and daughter exchanged a glance, sat down not far from Ben, said nothing, and started eating.
For a mother and daughter who hadn’t had enough to eat for days and had been surviving on dry bread, this plate of rich, meaty, sauce-coated pasta was practically a feast from heaven.
Unlike Jolene, who at least had been a noodle-lover in her past life and could resist the temptation of good food somewhat, five-year-old Emma—who’d spent her whole life hungry—couldn’t resist at all. Besides, Mom said the food here was free, and this job came with room and board. If this little boy didn’t behave and Mom lost her job, they’d never get to eat like this again.
So from Ben’s perspective, Emma looked like a child who hadn’t eaten in ages. She expertly twirled the pasta with her fork, eating so eagerly that tomato sauce smeared all over her mouth.
Not just sauce on her lips—Emma also made loud “slurping” noises as she sucked up the noodles.
After finishing the pasta, Emma scraped the remaining sauce into her mouth with her fork, not wasting a single drop.
Not only that—after she finished, Emma stood up, licked her lips, and said softly, “Mom, Emma is done. I’ll go wash the dishes.”
“Oh, the sink is a bit high. Just leave it there, and Mom will wash them together.” After saying that, Jolene felt like the child’s eyes still said she wasn’t full.
Right—Giovanni had given Emma a small portion, since she looked so tiny.
“Are you still hungry?” Jolene suddenly asked.
“I—I’m full,” Emma said quietly, looking at her clean plate.
“Emma, have you ever heard that children who lie get very, very long noses?” Jolene said slowly, frowning.
The child probably didn’t want to cause trouble for her mom, which was why she didn’t dare say she was still hungry.
“Really?” Emma’s head shot up, eyes wide with disbelief. She showed her little teeth, blinked, bit her lower lip, and said shyly, “Mom, Uncle Giovanni’s pasta is so good. Can Emma have another plate? As big as Mom’s?”
Jolene: “…Ahem, uh, Emma, how about another plate the same size as before? If little kids eat too much at once, they can’t digest it, and their tummies might hurt.”
Hearing that, Emma nodded. “Okay, I’ll listen to Mom.”
“Mhm, good girl. Emma really is the best little treasure in the whole world!” Jolene beamed and said loudly.
Emma lifted her head, a big smile finally spreading across her face, and straightened her back even more. She carried her own plate to the kitchen.
Giovanni had long since noticed the commotion and had heard Emma compliment his cooking. He immediately beamed and served her another plate.
So little Emma sat in front of Ben again, eating her second plate of spaghetti with loud “slurp, slurp” sounds.
Ben: “…”
Kids get hungry easily. Even though he ate pasta every day and didn’t think it was anything special, he couldn’t fight off physical hunger.
Besides, this little girl—who was a whole head shorter than him—could actually eat that much?
Ben had been frowning at this strange mother-daughter pair the whole time, wanting to chase them out of his house like he’d done with the others. But his brother had already told him last time that they had to have a nanny to look after him. At most, his brother would just keep hiring new ones until Ben was satisfied.
Ben was upset, but there was nothing he could do. This nanny had a kid with her, around his age—maybe she’d be more interesting than the nannies without children.
Ben thought it over for a long, long time. In the end, hunger won—his stomach was starting to feel uncomfortable. His brother always came home very, very late anyway, and even when he did, he’d just go straight to his room to work.
Watching mother and daughter eat so happily made Ben a little angry. He frowned and said to Jolene, “Aren’t you my nanny? Aren’t you going to make sure I eat? I’m hungry now—go get me some food!”
Jolene looked up, thought for a moment, and smiled slightly. “Although I’m only responsible for taking you to school, helping with homework, and playing with you—Giovanni handles meals—if you don’t eat, you won’t be able to join our reading activity later. That would be a real shame. So, I’ll let Uncle Giovanni know you want to eat.”
Jolene’s words were a bit roundabout, and as a young child, Ben didn’t really follow all of it—but he understood the gist: it wasn’t her job, but she’d help him anyway.
Standing up, Jolene went inside and asked Giovanni to bring over a plate of food.
“You’re amazing. He dragged it out until 9 o’clock yesterday before he ate,” Giovanni said, giving Jolene a silent thumbs-up of approval.
“It’s mainly because Emma ate so enthusiastically. Kids usually like to imitate other kids,” Jolene explained quietly.
Watching Uncle Giovanni bring the pasta to Ben, Emma kept eating while staring at him with wide eyes.
Her expression was easy to read—it seemed to say: This big brother is so old, and he can’t even get his own food? That’s kind of silly…
Ben: “…”
Ben was annoyed. He lowered his head, forked up some pasta, and started eating with a vengeance, as if he were competing with Emma.
The two kids were locked in an unspoken competition, eating at full speed.
When they finished, both children had red tomato sauce smeared around their mouths.
Jolene had already gotten used to Emma’s impressive ability to take care of herself. Besides, she’d never raised a child before—how would she know what a normal five-year-old should act like?
So, looking at Emma, Jolene casually said, “Emma, wipe your mouth clean. After Mom finishes eating, we can take a walk on the lawn to help digestion. Then we’ll find a place to read—oh wait, we don’t have any picture books yet. We’ll have to buy some first. Ah, there’s so much to do…”
Originally, Jolene had planned to establish a routine: read with the child every night, have meals at fixed times, with Giovanni as a witness and the child’s own testimony. That way, she could prove she was capable of taking good care of the child—and despite her past, she was actively improving—which should get Child Protective Services to drop the charges against her.
But she’d forgotten that she only had a few dollars on her. Books were too expensive here; she simply couldn’t afford them.
Suddenly, Jolene truly understood what it meant to be destitute.
Back in her past life, as a full-time author for years, even in her poorest moments, she’d only cut back on a few packs of snail noodles and a few cups of milk tea. She’d never experienced anything like this…
Since this was her first time being a mother to a five-year-old, Jolene had no idea that when talking to a child—especially when giving instructions—it was best to say only one thing at a time. Otherwise, they wouldn’t remember everything.
That was why so many people got frustrated with “disobedient” kids—they’d actually given too many instructions at once.
But for Emma, the original owner had also often rattled off many things in one breath, so she tried hard to remember everything her mom had just said: wipe her mouth, take a walk, read a story—but they didn’t have books, so she’d go wipe her mouth first.
Emma used to wipe her mouth casually with her sleeve, but after Jolene had corrected her once, she’d learned to find a tissue instead.
So Emma obediently put her plate back in the kitchen and said to Giovanni, “Uncle, Mom said she’ll wash the dishes together later. Emma will wipe her mouth first.”
With that, she found the tissue box on the table, wiped her mouth clean, and threw the tissue in the trash.
Giovanni had a smile on his face the whole time. No one could dislike such a well-behaved and adorable child. Plus, this little girl not only said his cooking was delicious but also ate two whole plates—how could anyone not like her?
After Jolene finished washing the dishes, she took Emma for a walk on the lawn.
The lawn was very spacious. If it were her own home, Jolene would probably set up an inflatable pool for Emma, or a trampoline, or get a dog with a doghouse, and arrange some lounge chairs and a beach umbrella—anything to keep the backyard from being so bare.
Mother and daughter strolled along, chatting casually.
“Mom, when are we going to buy books?” Emma asked.
“After Mom gets paid. Books are a bit expensive, and Mom doesn’t have any money right now.”
“Mom, when am I going to school?”
“Once the paperwork is done. When Mr. Raymond comes home, Mom will ask him about it.”
“Mom, why are we walking?”
“After a meal, walking helps digestion. For little kids, it prevents tummy aches. For grown-ups, it keeps blood sugar from getting too high.” Jolene really liked Emma’s endless “why” questions—it was much better than her staying silent.
It also showed the child was willing to talk to her and trusted her. She couldn’t let that trust down, so she tried her best to answer each question thoroughly, without brushing them off.
After the walk, Jolene noticed Ben sitting by the glass door, having finished his meal.
“Ben, do you have any picture books?” Jolene suddenly asked, and before Ben could answer, she explained earnestly, “I haven’t gotten paid yet, so I don’t have enough money to buy Emma a picture book. If you lend me one, I can pay you rent after I get my salary. How much would you charge me?”
Ben: “…” He’d been about to refuse, but this nanny was so weird—she actually asked how much rent he wanted…
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