to keep his identity under wraps and it’d also fit in with his being able to afford Tabara for a long stay. She looked at him.
“How old are they?” she asked. He made it sound like she’d need car seats and safety gates, or pens of some sort.
“Eleven.”
“And the other one?”
“Um...eleven.” His forehead creased apologetically.
“Twins?”
“Identical. Didn’t I mention that?”
“You skipped that part.”
“Does it really make a difference? Two kids is two kids.”
Then why was that expression “double trouble” so well-known? Pippa studied him, then hugged her book and water bottle to her chest and got out of the jeep.
“Are they around? Maybe I should meet them before I make any final decisions.”
Dax glanced toward the lodge and cranked his neck to one side, then the other.
“Okay. I suppose that’s a good idea.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
“After you,” Pippa said.
He led the way back through the lodge’s foyer and to the dining area.
Alim stood next to a table where two girls sat, one wearing a purple headband and the other a green one. They were otherwise identical and quite pretty. She guessed, by the fact that their eyes were hazel and their dark blond hair was lighter than Dax’s, that they looked like their mother. E-readers were on the table next to three dessert plates—one in front of each girl and one between them—all piled with a powdered-sugar-covered mandazi. A small ramekin filled with chocolate dipping sauce, typically used with fruit, sat within their reach. That was a lot of fried dough—not to mention sugar—for two kids. What was their dad thinking?
“Enjoying your desserts, girls?” Dax said. There was an edge to his tone.
Both girls immediately sat up straight. Chocolate clung to their fingers and the corners of their mouths and powdered sugar spotted their cheeks and clothes. They wiped their mouths and put their hands neatly in their laps. Well behaved enough. This was going to be easy money.
“Um, yes. They’re delicious,” the one in green said, biting her lower lip.
“He brought them to us,” the one in purple quipped, pointing at Alim.
“They ordered them,” Alim quickly said, scowling down at the girls. “When you left, you told them to look at the menu. They said you had given them permission to have dessert. You were gone much longer than five minutes.”
“Three desserts?” Dax raised a brow. “I’m guessing the third wasn’t mine, considering it’s half-gone, too.”
“They said they were ordering for their sister. The one you left to go get from your room. I was explaining something to a new waiter and when I turned around, they were eating their sister’s dessert. I will have another brought out free of charge,” Alim said.
“You didn’t mention three girls. I’m positive you said I’d be helping with twins, not triplets,” Pippa said.
“I did. Interestingly, I’ve never met this sister of theirs and I’m pretty sure they haven’t, either. Alim, another dessert won’t be necessary. I apologize for taking longer than I expected,” Dax said, reaching into his wallet.
Alim shot the girls a disapproving look, then held out his palm. Dax put a bill in it. The palm remained extended. Dax frowned at the girls and gave Alim another bill. He’d paid a waiter to watch his kids? Overprotective much? At that age, Pippa had been climbing trees, working with elephants and disappearing into the tall savanna grasses on wild, exploratory adventures.
“Kuwa makini,” Alim muttered as he passed Pippa on his way back to the kitchen. Really?
“Ku-what?” Dax asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Pippa said. Alim had given her fair warning to be careful. But then, he never did like dealing with children at the dining tables. All things considered, she probably would have pulled a trick for extra dessert, too. Their dad moved the plates next to his half-eaten meal. Not exactly out of reach, but his message was clear. No more dessert.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he told the twins.
“Hi there. I’m Pippa.”
“Yes, sorry. Ivy and Fern, this is Miss Harper.”
“What are you reading?” Fern asked.
Pippa held up the cover of the book she was holding.
“A mystery I found in an antiques bookstore when I was in Spain. Apparently, it’s out of print and a rare find. I didn’t have a chance to start it until yesterday, but it’s such a page-turner, I’m already near the end. The best part of a mystery is when you finally get all the answers and all the pieces fall into place, isn’t it? What are you two reading?”
Pippa wasn’t big on e-readers. Having to rely on generators for power made printed books more convenient out here. And even though she read books on her computer on occasion and could have an e-reader now if she wanted, she preferred to feel and smell the pages. She wanted to be able to read perched on a boulder in the savanna without sun glaring off her screen or the battery dying and having to drive back to camp for a charge. Besides, she taught reading in the villages using print books and liked to be able to share. The Maasai children didn’t have electricity. Their children didn’t have modern distractions like cell phones or televisions or movie theaters. Just books.
“History of the Civil War. It’s for homework,” Ivy said.
“You two must be diligent students.”
“I told you they were smart,” Dax said. “Girls, Miss Pippa has agreed to help look after you for a while.”
Had she actually agreed? Pippa pressed her lips together and peered at him. He cocked his head and gave her a silent, pleading look. Like his future was in her hands. Okay, then. She was in it for the money. And the girls seemed pretty sweet, too. She’d be reducing their sugar intake drastically, though.
“I suppose we should exchange contact information,” she said.
“Yes. Absolutely. I don’t have business cards on me, but I can write down a number for when I’m not at the lodge. I should have a satellite phone on me most of the time and I brought one to leave in the bungalow, just in case I need to be reached. If it works. I’ve been warned reception is spotty.”
“It can be.”
Pippa set her book and water down on their table and pulled out her mini notebook.
“The bartender will have a pen,” she said.
Dax told the girls not to move and followed her to the bar at the end of the room. They scribbled down their info and swapped papers.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking you a few questions. I mean, since you’re going to be caring for my kids. Normally, I would interview anyone I planned to hire to watch my kids, but I figured if the lodge let you take off with the children of their guests, they know you pretty well.”
“Feel free to ask questions, but you already know my name. My vehicle. Where I work and, therefore, my references. I already told you my mom is a vet. She founded the Busara Elephant Research and Rescue Camp twenty-four years ago. The same year I was born. I’ll add that my father is a geneticist. I also have a large extended family that includes friends living at Busara or within a few hours of it. Anything else?”
“No wonder everyone seems to know you around here.”
There was an awkward moment of silence. Eye contact she wanted to break but couldn’t seem to. One of the twins calling out to her dad saved