The Sitter by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

and forth to the city. I can’t wait till the end of June . . . my vacation,” he repeated.
    I realized he was studying me again. “Are you from here?” he asked.
    “No. I’m from Wisconsin, actually. Madison. We don’t have much ocean in Wisconsin.”
    He snickered. Then he shouted again. “Hey, Abby. Where are you? The new sitter is here.”
    Abby appeared on the balcony. She leaned over the side and waved to me. “Hi, Ellie. I’ll be right down.”
    I watched her come down the stairs. I hadn’t really seen her clearly in the store. For one thing, she had that bandanna around her head. And when she started talking about a job, I was too startled to see anything!
    She was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean like a fashion model or something. She had her black hair cut short, parted in the middle, very shiny, very stylish.
    She had dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and that awesome tan, real or not. She wore a brightly colored flowery beach cover-up over a key lime one-piece bathing suit. Coral-colored plastic bracelets jangled on her wrist as she walked.
    She flashed me a warm smile and took my hand in both of hers. “Ellie, hi. Thanks for coming out. As I told you in town, Chip and I are really desperate to hire a new nanny.”
    She eased herself down on one of the white leather couches and motioned for me to sit beside her. “I see Chip has helped himself. Can I get you anything to drink? A Diet Coke or something?”
    “No. No thanks. I’m fine.”
    She glanced up at her husband. “What are you drinking?”
    “Gin and tonic. Want one?”
    She glanced at the silver clock on the end table. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”
    Chip laughed. “Are you scolding me? I need one for the road.” He sat down across from us in a wicker chair and rattled the ice in his glass. He grinned at me. “I’m not an alcoholic—I just
love
to drink!” He laughed.
    Abby shook her head. “Chip, no one ever laughs at that joke. No one else thinks it’s funny.”
    “It’s funny,” he muttered. He winked at me. “You think it’s funny,
don’t
you, Ellie?”
    I cleared my throat. I didn’t reply.
    Abby took my hand. “So, Ellie, tell me all about yourself. Do you really want this job?”
    “Well . . . yes,” I said. And then I started my sales pitch, the pitch I had been rehearsing all through lunch. I’m very good with kids, and kids always love me yada yada yada . . .
    Abby listened intently, her dark eyes never leaving mine. She played with her plastic bracelets as I talked. “What are you doing now?” she asked. “Do you have to give notice somewhere?”
    “No. I’m only temping. I moved to New York last year, and I’ve been temping since I got here.”
    “She’s from Wisconsin,” Chip chimed in. “I don’t think she’s ever seen the ocean before!”
    “Well, actually, I have. My aunt used to have a house on the Jersey shore, so my family visited her several summers.”
    “That’s not like the Hamptons,” Chip said, shaking his head. “That’s like, ‘Let’s go hang out at the tattoo parlor and drink a couple of Budweisers.’ ”
    “Don’t listen to Mr. Snob,” Abby said playfully. “A few years ago, he’d have been
thrilled
with the Jersey shore.”
    Chip rubbed his stubble of beard and muttered something into his glass.
    “Ellie, where did you go to college?” Abby asked.
    Should I lie?
    Should I tell the truth?
    Yes. They seem really nice. Maybe the truth.
    I mean, part of the truth. Only part.
    “I didn’t go to college,” I said softly. “I was accepted at a bunch of colleges. But I had to go to work. My father got sick, and I had to help support my family.”
    Okay. That part is a lie.
    I mean, I really was all set to go to school at the university in Madison.
    And then Will—
    The thing with Will—
    It changed everything. And I could barely face the world, barely drag myself out of bed each morning.
    It took so long to get on with my life. So many years . . .
    So many