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notto arouse suspicion, we threw a suitable portion of the dinner she had prepared for us in the trash.
    â€œWill she notice the fried-food smell?” Nora fretted, so I made the rounds of the rooms spraying citrus deodorizer, while she implored me not to make her laugh because she’d go into labor.
    â€œLet me see if you have bits of shrimp between your teeth!” I ordered her.
    â€œIt’s not like she checks my mouth!”
    â€œThat woman sees everything.”
    Then I kissed her on the lips and slipped a hand into her neckline to feel the warmth under her nightgown. Together we searched out shadowy recesses where we could hide from Babette’s omnipresent gaze, which from above lit up everything like the sun at its zenith.
    _____
    By the time Emanuele was born, we were too spoiled to give up her attentions. Mrs. A. went from being Nora’s nurse to being our son’s nanny, as if there were a natural continuity between the two occupations, andalthough she had not cared for a newborn baby before that, she immediately proved to have very clear ideas—much clearer than ours—on what to do and what not to do.
    Her pay cut into the family budget, but not as much as it could have: she did not keep an exact accounting of the time she devoted to us, nor did we ever agree on an hourly rate. On Fridays she accepted without protest a sum that we considered appropriate, which Nora calculated based on a mysterious, extremely flexible schedule. Every weekday morning for over eight years, Mrs. A. showed up at our door, ringing the bell before opening with her bunch of keys, lest she catch us in a private moment. Sometimes she’d already done the shopping and would immediately hand us the receipt, standing there, not moving, until we reimbursed her for the full amount.
    On Emanuele’s first day of kindergarten, Nora and I were present, and so was Mrs. A. On the first day of elementary school, however, only two relatives per child were allowed, and I had to stay outside. When someone mistakenly referred to Babette as his“grandmother,” Emanuele did not correct her. Mrs. A. felt she held our child’s delicate heart in her hands, and indeed she did.
    You can imagine our disappointment, therefore, our bewilderment, when in early September of 2011, when we needed her more than ever to plan for the return to school, Mrs. A. announced her firm intention not to come anymore.
    â€œMay I ask why?” Nora asked her, more annoyed than sorry to hear it at that moment. There are rules, after all, to be followed regarding work: giving notice, letters of resignation sent by mail, keeping one’s word.
    â€œBecause I’m tired,” Mrs. A. said, but from her tone she seemed bitter if anything.
    The call ended very quickly: eight years of working together—one might almost say living together—dismissed with the vague excuse of being tired.
    _____
    She really doesn’t show up anymore. Of the three of us, Emanuele is the only one who has not yet learned that nothing lasts forever when it comes to human relationships. He is also the only one who doesn’t know thatthis is not necessarily a disadvantage. Still, in this specific situation, having to tell him that, out of the blue, his nanny has decided not to look after him anymore, it’s hard to see the advantageous aspects, so Nora and I stall for time. After a week it’s he who asks, “When is Babette coming?”
    â€œFor the moment she can’t come. Go put your pajamas on now.”
    Yet we, too, hurt and terrified at the thought that running the household has suddenly fallen upon us, ask ourselves what really happened, where we could have gone wrong. We talk about it endlessly, like a couple of orphans. Finally we pinpoint what we see as the most likely cause of Mrs. A.’s mutiny. About ten days prior to her notice, a handwritten note in block letters had appeared on our building’s buzzer