Chapter 2 - The Price of My Hotel Room
Our first full morning at the resort began beautifully.
Daniel had gone back upstairs because he'd forgotten his sunglasses, while Macy and I took the children toward the beach.
The youngest, Oliver, was four.
His sister Sophie was six.
Their older brother, Caleb, was eight.
I adored all three.
Being their grandmother was one of the great joys of my life.
But being their grandmother was different from being their full-time nanny.
I didn't understand that Macy had already decided I would be the second one.
She walked toward me carrying a beach bag.
“Here.”
She handed it to me.
I took it automatically.
Then another bag.
Then Oliver's inflatable toys.
“Macy?”
She was already spreading her towel across a lounge chair.
“Can you put sunscreen on them?”
“Sure.”
I didn't think anything of it.
Grandmothers help.
I covered three squirming children in sunscreen while Macy ordered herself a drink.
Daniel still hadn't returned.
Afterward, I stood and brushed sand from my knees.
“I think I'll walk down to the water.”
Macy looked at me.
“Actually, I need you to stay with the kids.”
“Oh.”
I glanced at them.
“Sure. For a little while?”
She removed her sunglasses.
There was something strange in her expression.
“Maybe Daniel forgot to explain.”
“Explain what?”
She sat up.
“You're here to watch the children.”
I smiled uncertainly.
“I know I'll help.”
“No, Evelyn. I mean that's why you're here.”
The smile left my face.
“I don't understand.”
Macy sighed as if I were being difficult.
“Taking care of the kids during this vacation is entirely your responsibility.”
For several seconds, all I heard was the ocean.
Children laughed nearby.
A gull flew overhead.
I looked at Macy, waiting for the joke.
There wasn't one.
“Macy, nobody told me that.”
“Well, I'm telling you now.”
“I thought this was a family vacation.”
“It is.”
“Then perhaps we could split things. I'll happily help with the children, and you and Daniel can have some time together. But I'd like a little time to relax too.”
She laughed.
Not a warm laugh.
A short, dismissive one.
Then she said words I would remember for the rest of my life.
“Know your place, Evelyn.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“My husband paid for your hotel room.”
“Daniel offered.”
“Exactly. Do you know how expensive this resort is?”
“I told him I couldn't afford it.”
“And he paid anyway. So consider watching the kids your way of earning back the money we spent on you.”
Something inside me sank.
I wanted to defend myself.
Instead, decades of habit took over.
Don't cause trouble.
Don't make people uncomfortable.
Be grateful.
Help.
So I nodded.
“All right.”
Macy immediately relaxed.
“Great.”
She put her sunglasses back on.
Then she walked toward the water.
I remained beneath the umbrella with three children.
Caleb wanted to swim.
Sophie wanted a snack.
Oliver needed the bathroom.
By the time I handled all three, Macy had returned and was lying on her towel.
Daniel appeared shortly afterward.
“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn't find my sunglasses.”
Macy smiled.
“Your mom and I have everything handled.”
I looked at her.
She looked back.
And I said nothing.
That became the pattern.
At breakfast the next morning, Macy pushed the children's plates toward me.
At the pool, she handed me their towels.
At lunch, she and Daniel sat together while I cut Oliver's food.
Whenever Daniel looked away, Macy gave me another instruction.
“Take Sophie to the bathroom.”
“Oliver needs changing.”
“Caleb wants to swim.”
“Get them ice cream.”
“Watch them while I lie down.”
I barely touched the water.
On the third afternoon, I stood ankle-deep in the Atlantic for perhaps thirty seconds.
Then Oliver shouted.
“Grandma!”
I turned.
He needed me.
I walked back.
That evening, Daniel asked, “Having fun?”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
It wasn't exactly a lie.
I loved my grandchildren.
But each night, I looked at the ocean from my balcony and wondered why I felt so sad.
On the fourth morning, Sophie climbed onto my bed while I was getting ready.
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“Why don't you swim?”
“I haven't gotten around to it.”
“Mommy said you don't like swimming.”
I stopped.
“She did?”
Sophie nodded.
“She said that's why you watch us.”
I sat beside her.
“Did she?”
Sophie leaned against me.
“I want you to have fun too.”
That nearly broke me.
I kissed her forehead.
“I have fun whenever I'm with you.”
It was true.
But after she left, I remained sitting there.
Something had changed.
For the first time, I allowed myself to admit the obvious.
I was being used.
Still, I didn't intend to tell Daniel.
Then that afternoon, while I sat beneath an umbrella surrounded by beach toys, Daniel suddenly appeared.
He wasn't smiling.
He looked at the children.
Then at me.
Then toward Macy, who was relaxing near the pool.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you always with the kids?”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven't done anything.”
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.”
“Daniel—”
“You've been here four days and haven't even gone swimming.”
I looked down.
He crouched beside my chair.
“Mom, what's going on?”
I could have lied.
I almost did.
Then I remembered Sophie's words.
I want you to have fun too.
So I told my son the truth.
May you like
And when I repeated the words “know your place,” something in Daniel's face changed.
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