Chapter Text
Sometimes there are days when Mike feels slightly tired of being a nanny. It's not the kids. The kids are fantastic, tiny overachievers and Mike adores them. It's the parents. Over the past nine years he's worked for three different Upper East Side families, all a variation on a very similar, very boring theme. They hire him because the wife (second wife) has become tired of worrying if the husband she barely sees is working the nanny like he worked her before she became the wife. Hiring Mike gives her time to do the important things, like facials, manicures and heading up events for charities while wearing conflict diamonds. They hire him to show off to their friends just how progressive they are, and isn't it just so cute that they've hired a male, gay nanny. If Mike sounds slightly bitter, it's because he is.
He spends more time with these kids than their own parents do. Once they get old enough to attend school full time, they're sent to Chapin, Dalton, or some European boarding school. With the first two, Mike's hours are cut down to the point where he has no choice but to find a new job, usually with no warning. With the last one, he's at least given the courtesy of a few weeks notice. Mike doesn't hate rich people, he finds them a little weird and sometimes kind of disturbing, but he doesn't hate them. He just wishes they'd spend half as much time thinking about their kids as they do thinking about the flowers in their foyers.
Mrs Clifton informed him today that she'll be sending Paige to Switzerland in August to 'best acclimate her to the area' before she starts school there. Seven years ago, Mike would've questioned how parents can send their child to live halfway around the world for schooling. Now he just smiles, assures Mrs Clifton it's been a pleasure working for her and prepares to say goodbye to Paige.
A quick re-write of his standard advert has been pinned up in the regular places and Mike is ready to let his voicemail be assaulted by UES parents with kids called things like Archibald Sutton the Third. Just once he'd like to look after a boy whose name doesn't end in a number. He'd also like to meet parents who take an active interest in their kids, move his gram somewhere nicer, watch a movie that doesn't involve Dora and get laid regularly. Everyone has dreams.
--
“Juliet Elizabeth Specter, you come here now!”
“No.”
Harvey rolled his eyes. Why, of all things, did his daughter have to inherit his stubbornness? “You come here now and explain this or else I won't let Aunty Donna come to your soccer game this weekend.”
Juliet sulked out of her room with a pout on her face and, much like the kitchen floor, covered in flour. “I didn't do anything.”
“Really? Because the amount of flour on the floor says otherwise. Jules, you know if you tell the truth I listen,” Harvey lifted her up on to the counter, brushed the flour off her face and fixed his eyes on her. “Now. What happened?”
“Pancakes.”
“Pancakes?”
“I wan'ed pancakes,” She pointed an accusing finger at her father “You were busy.”
“So you tried to get the ingredients yourself?”
Juliet nodded “I can do it, Dad, I watch you all the time. An' I know to be careful with the pan.”
“Honey, you can't even lift the pan,” Harvey smiled at her “How were you gonna flip them?”
“You do that part. You always do that part.”
“That I do. Right, Jules, you know what happens when you get this dirty, don't you?”
Juliet scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at Harvey “Washing. Blergh.”
“Such a flattering look on you,” Harvey lifted her off the counter and set her down on the floor “Go on, I'll be there in a minute.”
“I'll count!”
Harvey watched her go, a fond smile on his face. Somehow he still found himself surprised at the mischief Juliet could get herself into when he wasn't in the room. He glanced at the kitchen floor and sighed, pancakes were more trouble than they were worth.
“Daddy! It's been a minute!”
“Be right there, Jules.”
Due to the emergency pancake clean up, Harvey had to rush to get Juliet ready, fix breakfast, clean up the flour and then get himself ready. Ray was waiting for them when they finally got out of the main doors.
“Raaaaay!” Juliet yelled at ear splitting volume as she darted towards the driver.
“Miss Juliet,” Ray crouched down, bracing himself for the hug. “Good morning!”
Juliet let go and grinned “Good one?”
“It was. A 9/10.”
“Not 10/10?”
Harvey came up behind her “Jules, Ray has been scoring your hugs since you were two. He's given you plenty of perfect scores. Don't be greedy. In the car.”
--
The Cliftons have given Mike a week's notice, and Paige has termed the week “Goodbye New York!”. Mike has been listening to her list of ideas for what she wants to do during it. While it's a little obsessive, Mike is reassured that she seems to be handling it well. It hadn't been that long since the tiniest bit of change in her life was cause for a tantrum. Mike is still haunted by her reaction to discovering the playroom had been painted while she'd been away. Screams that loud should never come out of someone so small.
Much to Mike's delight, Paige has decided that she absolutely must say goodbye to Mike's grandmother. He can't really blame her, she's awesome. All the kids Mike has looked after have fallen in love with his gram. As the cab reached the house, Mike just about managed to pay the driver before Paige bolted out of the cab, ran up the steps and knocked on the door with her fist.
“Paige!” Mike reached her, gently catching her fist before she could knock again “You know I have a key, what's with the banging?”
“Sorry, I'm just 'cited.”
“'Cited? You know that's not how you say it.”
“Excited.”
“Full words. Excellent.” Mike high fived her and opened the door, ushering Paige in.
“Grammy Ross! Grammy Ross!” Paige called as she ran into the kitchen.
“Paige, what a lovely surprise,” Mary put down her book and smiled “Now, surely you can't be here alone, where's my grandson?”
“Here, gram,” Mike joined them in the kitchen, bending to kiss Mary on the cheek “How are you?”
“I'm fine, Michael. I'd like to know how this young lady is doing. Make yourself useful and fix us a snack. There's fresh cookies in the fox tin.”
Mike shook his head. The fox tin creeped him out as a child and it still creeped him out now. The thing is just too realistic, it's beady little eyes stare at you as soon as you come into the kitchen. After his parents died and he came to live with Gram, she put it in a cupboard so he wouldn't have to see it every day. She never stopped keeping cookies in it, though. Mike has a sneaking suspicion she did that on purpose.
Sandwiches first, though. Then he'd face the fox tin. As he raided the fridge, he listened to Paige and Gram talk.
“I haveta tell you something, Grammy Ross.”
“Is it about the zoo?”
Paige laughed “No, it's about me!”
“Have you written a book?”
“Grammy Ross, stop being silly.”
Mary exchanged a grin with her grandson over Paige's head. “But, Paige, being silly is fun.”
“But this is serious!”
“Ok, sweetheart, why don't you tell me what's going on.”
“I'm going away.”
“Where are you going?”
“Switzerland. Mummy said I'm going to school there an' I'm staying with Auntie Helen and Cousin Marty and Cousin Lila. Have you been to Switzerland, Grammy Ross?”
“No Paige, I've never been to Switzerland. I went to Russia once, with a nice young man.”
Mike placed a plate of PB&J sandwiches on the table. “And that is a story you don't need to hear right now, Paige.”
“Is it a grown up story?”
“Yes. It's a grown up story. You want juice?”
“Please.”
“Eat up. You can have cookies afterwards.”
--
Harvey arrived at work in a bad mood. Their usual routine, which always concluded with dropping Juliet at Adele's, was disrupted when Adele pulled Harvey aside. Her husband was being transferred to Boston and she was going with him. It gave Harvey an instant headache. Adele had provided child care for Juliet since she was a baby, and Juliet loved her dearly. Harvey had been blind-sided by being told he had a baby girl, and when he found out Christine didn't want her, he'd struggled. He wasn't too proud to admit that. But after seeing her it had taken Harvey all of a minute to decide he couldn't give Juliet up.
Harvey recalled every minute of that day. Christine had called the office, wanting to see him. It had been well over a year since he'd last seen her, and it piqued his curiosity that she'd called. They'd met in a coffee shop not far from Pearson Hardman. Whatever Harvey had been expecting, Christine with a baby had not been it. Christine had been apologetic, sorry that she didn't tell him about Juliet. Harvey brushed the apologies aside, he knew why she didn't. No one would ever peg Harvey Specter for reliable Dad material. He knew his reputation, he didn't blame her for not wanting him involved.
“The thing is, Harvey, I'm a crappy mom. I can't be what she needs. I thought I could do it, but it's not me. It's not who I am. I've had to turn down a promotion at work already because of her and I feel myself resenting her for it. That's not right.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“This is for Juliet. You're her Dad, you're on the birth certificate and I need you to sign away parental rights so I can put her up for adoption.”
Harvey had looked at the kid – Juliet – his daughter. “You're putting her up for adoption?”
“It's the best thing for her, Harvey. If I keep her, she'll be fucked up by the time she's two. I'm no good for her.”
“Chrissy, can I – can I hold her?”
“Oh,” Christine had looked at him, confused before nodding and handing Juliet over. “Of course.”
Juliet had happily settled in his arms, her wide eyes looking up at him. Harvey suppressed the urge to smile at her as his mind raced through the bombshells of the past ten minutes.
“Harvey? Did I lose you?” Christine was watching him with a concerned look on her face. “You are ok with this, right?”
“What? Yes. Look, Christine, what would happen if -” Harvey took a breath. “If I wanted to keep her?”
“You? Why would you want to – Harvey, are you even aware of how much effort this would be? You'd be alone in this, a single parent.”
“But if I wanted her, if I didn't want to give her up, would you be willing to make that happen?”
Christine had sat quietly, watching Harvey calm Juliet down as she started to fuss. “You really want her? You're not going to change your mind in a month? Because if you are, Harvey, then don't do this, let me find her a real family. Something stable.”
“I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't sure. We didn't exactly spend much time talking when we were together, so I'm going to tell you something. My family is important to me. Juliet is my blood. My daughter. I don't turn my back on that.”
“Are you implying that I am?”
“No. Christine, I respect your decision. I understand why you're doing it, I'm just telling you I can't do it. I want the opportunity to raise my kid, and I'd like to do it in a nice way.”
“A nice way?”
“With your co-operation. Not with force.”
Jessica had been unable to keep the look of surprise off her face when Harvey had come to her with his plans. Once an expedited paternity test had been done, he and Christine quickly came to an agreement and plans were made for Harvey to take Juliet home with him. The first night he had Juliet, he stood looking out at the city with her in his arms and swore he'd always do the best he could for her.
For the first month, Jessica was the only one who knew. Donna found out, because that was what Donna did, and she'd been suspicious when he'd come back to work smelling of baby powder. Once he was back at the firm, Jessica and Donna watched him try to cope with balancing the demands of a 5 month old child and his career for a week before they both took pity on him. They staged an intervention at his condo, introducing him to Adele, telling him that as much as they both loved the sight of the great Harvey Specter being overwhelmed, he needed help.
Harvey had sat on the sofa, Juliet curled on his chest, napping quietly. He glared at them both, which had only made Donna laugh. Jessica just shook her head and told him to stop being stupid, Adele was her college room-mate's daughter and loved kids. Harvey discovered that Adele was kind, she gushed over Juliet and, eventually, Harvey felt he could trust her. She'd been a permanent fixture ever since.
Almost five years later, she was leaving and Harvey didn't know where to begin with looking for a new nanny. He had two weeks. Two weeks to find someone who he was willing to trust with the most important person in his life. Harvey was screwed.
Donna walked into his office, noting the look on his face as she dropped some messages on his desk. “Juliet play snakes with your ties again?”
“Funny. And no. Adele's leaving.”
“Ouch. When?”
“Two weeks,” Harvey sighed “Kevin's been transferred to Boston. She's going with him.”
“Harvey, you can't keep a woman from her husband. It's wrong.”
“Donna.”
“I just know how much you and Juliet love Adele. You need ground rules.”
“I'm not in the habit of kidnapping women, Donna. Even if it's going to be a goddamn pain trying to find someone else. Where do you even go for a nanny?”
“Anywhere but Craigslist. You'll end up with a hooker or a junkie looking after Juliet and, honestly, bailing you out for murder isn't in my job description.”
“Actually, I think it is.”
“No, I took it out of the contract. For a lawyer, you trust me way too much.”
Harvey smirked “You know what is in your job description?”
“Already on it,” Donna turned to leave. “I'll track down some candidates for you.”
--
After visiting Mary, Paige and Mike had headed back into the city. Mike called the town car service The Cliftons used and went through his voicemails as Paige napped next to him. As he listened to them, the urge to smack his head against the car window rose. ”This is Betsy Miller calling for Michael Ross. We're looking for someone to be a nanny to our 4 year old son, Parker...” “...our daughter, Sienna is currently aiming for Juilliard, so we would need someone to encourage her daily practice...” “...while Grayson has been diagnosed with ADD, we do try not to let labels define him...”.
Mike forced himself not to delete all the messages and kept the ones from parents who sounded the least objectionable, but none of them sounded particularly promising. He ran a hand through Paige's hair and hoped for better responses soon. Living off the bonus The Cliftons would give him at the end of the week was possible, but Mike didn't want to risk being without work.
“Paige, sweetie, time to wake up.”
Paige blinked, sleepily “Home?”
“Yep, home,” Mike lifted her up and balanced her on his hip. “Have a good nap?”
“Uh huh. Can we do painting?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I wanna do a picture of Grammy Ross to take with me.”
Mike was momentarily lost for words. He nodded to Josh, the doorman as he let them in. “That's really nice, Paige. When we get upstairs, you can get into your painting clothes and I'll set it all up, ok?”
“Ok. Can I press the button?”
“As long as you know where we're going.”
“Silly Mike. Of course I know what floor we're going to!”
“You sure?”
“Yes! I know it!”
“Well then, I'm in your hands, aren't I?”
Paige giggled and clung to his neck as Mike raced into the elevator. He turned so she could press the button, and smiled when she waved to Josh before the doors closed on them.
--
Before Harvey left the office, Donna handed him a folder. After Juliet went to bed, finally exhausted having chewed Harvey's ear off about getting a puppy throughout dinner, he poured himself a scotch and started going through the files.
Because Donna was Donna, and therefore terrifyingly efficient, the folder contained far more than basic information. It was a selection of dossiers. Everything Donna could find out about any nannies who had an advert up in Manhattan. There were side notes scattered throughout (“I think this one sleeps with the fathers, either that or she steals. Too few references for the amount of jobs she's had” “has a brother in rehab” “her grandmother voted for Bush – I mean, really?” “went to Florida State, how does she even dress herself?”). Sometimes Donna really scared him. Harvey rubbed a hand over his face and continued sifting through the files.
It was late before he managed to narrow it down to four candidates. That would have to be enough for interviews. Harvey put the files in his briefcase, tomorrow he'd get Donna to schedule the interviews. On his way to bed he paused by Juliet's room, like he did every night to look in at her. She was sprawled across her bed, her right hand grasping the ear of Cyrus, the stuffed monkey Donna had insisted on buying her during Juliet's first trip to the zoo. Juliet loved Cyrus more than any stuffed toy Harvey had bought her. Donna, of course, never let him forget that.
--
Having spent the morning escorting Paige to her ballet lesson, Mrs Clifton had given Mike the afternoon off so she could take Paige shopping for her 'new Switzerland wardrobe'. If there was one activity the UES mothers would always find time for, it was shopping. Mike took the opportunity to run back to his ridiculously overpriced box room to do all the things he kept putting off. Having sorted out his laundry and arranged for a pick up, he looked in his fridge for food and found what looked like fuzzy pizza and half a carton of something that could've been orange juice. Grocery run it was. Mrs Clifton wanted him back at work by 5, she and her husband were hosting a dinner and wanted Mike to keep Paige occupied for the evening. He looked at his watch, he had just enough time to pick up some food, eat and get back across town in time.
As Mike was heading out the door, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and didn't recognise the number. Groaning, he answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mike Ross?”
“Yes. Do I know you?”
“My name's Donna, I'm calling on behalf of my boss. You have an advert up on the Parent's League board, is this the same Mike Ross?”
“It is. Your boss needs a nanny?”
“He can generally look after himself.”
Mike laughed “Sorry, I mean, he needs to hire a nanny?”
“Yes, and you're on the shortlist. I'd like to arrange a time for you to come in for an interview.”
“Right. Well, I don't finish with my current family until Friday.”
“So, next week would work for you? Say, Monday at three?”
Mike mentally ran through his schedule “That would work. Uh, where is this interview taking place?”
“Mr. Specter would like you to come to his place of work, Pearson Hardman. You'll be on the visitor list, just give your name when you arrive.”
“Ok, great. See you then.”
The woman – Donna – said goodbye and hung up.
Mike stuffed his phone in his pocket and jogged down the stairs, glaring at his watch. He should've let it go to voicemail. No time for groceries, he resigned himself to living off take out until the weekend. As Mike navigated his way to the subway, he thought about the interview for next week. In all the years Mike had been working as a nanny, he'd never been contacted on behalf of, or by, a father. He was pretty sure no nanny who worked on the Upper East Side had been. Most UES families worked in the same way, the father took care of making the money, and the mother took care of spending the money and organising the childcare.
The most Mike saw of a father was during the few minutes they stopped at home to change for an event. The kids normally insisted on following their father around for the duration, trying desperately to press their existence upon him. Mike tried to keep out of the way whenever this happened, witnessing it just made him feel really depressed. The memories he had of his parents had become slightly fuzzy over time, but Mike always had a deep sense of love whenever he thought about them. Mike knew they'd loved him, encouraged him and had been there for him. Seeing the parents he worked for ignore their extraordinary children pained him. All he could do was hope they would realise how fantastic their children were before it was too late.
Still, it was interesting. There was always the possibility the man – Mr. Specter – was a widower, but in that world, Mike was fairly sure he would've heard about it. He couldn't remember ever having heard gossip about anyone with that surname, and the mothers could get awfully chatty after a few gins. They could get very handsy as well, but Mike tried not to think about that. After a few drinks, they seemed to forget he was gay. There had been many a night where he'd had to escape an overwhelming smell of alcohol and Chanel. The delicate balance between leaving quickly and firmly, but without offending her so much he'd be fired, was something he'd had to work on. Mike had it down to a fine art by now.