Oscar had been asleep for about an hour. Dinner had been a lively experience of discovery. What Oscar liked, he put in his mouth; what Oscar didn't like he threw at the nearest person or on the floor. Or both. The nearest person just happened to be Ben, so another shower was in order. And though Mrs. Finnegan seemed to scowl more than usual, Ben found that ignoring her and letting Oscar have his fun was far more enjoyable. Over and again, the thought ran through his head - Maybe Charley is right. Maybe Mrs. F. is full of crap. He felt enlightened, as if let in on a deep, dark secret that the rest of the world seemed to know. That enlightenment made him feel powerful over the one formidable woman in his life that he felt the most powerless against. It was nearly exhilarating.

When peace found the house after Oscar's bath and bedtime story, another first for Ben, he'd showered for the second time that day and settled into his study for another snifter of brandy and a good book. It was his way of relaxing, and had been for a long time. The brandy was sipped, not gulped, this time.

Unfortunately, his chance to relax was a little disturbed by the sound of Mrs Finnegan speaking more than a little sharply to Charley in the laundry room. As soon as Charley had realized she was being followed with intent to snap, she'd left the door open, not wanting to be stuck in such a small space with an angry woman. And Mrs Finnegan was angry. She had disrupted Oscar's routine. She had disturbed Mr Blake. She had waltzed in and changed a structure that had been working perfectly well for years. She was an appalling role model, and she would be very lucky if she still had a job at the end of the week. All of which Charley put a sharp end to with one question snapped back at the old woman. "Does Mr Blake know that you hit his son?"

Loud voices were never heard before in the Blake household. Even at their worst, Ben and Sarah had never openly screamed at each other, or even argued in front of Oscar. So when the sound of Mrs. Finnegan in a fine turmoil began to float through the house, Ben put his book down to go see what the fuss was about. The brandy was forgotten in his haste to the source of the heated words. Why would I fire Charley" He wondered as he came close enough to make out distinct words. He came close to stepping into the room, but when he heard Charley lay down that accusation, he backed off and hid just outside of the door to hear Mrs. Finnegan's response. He held his breath, waiting to know which way to react. Nobody hits Oscar, he thought angrily.

In her defense, Mrs Finnegan didn't let the grass grow in a pause before she answered. "I discipline the child when he requires it -" "No, you hit him," Charley snapped, interrupting a little angrily herself. "You've provided me with a manual that contains four pages of detailed instructions on how, where, and what to hit him with if you feel he's in need of discipline. Oscar is afraid of you, you horrible old woman. I haven't even been here a full day, but if I ever hear of you raising a hand to him again, I will report you to the police. That's not discipline, it's abuse, and it has to stop."

"She's absolutely right," Ben stepped into the utility room and looked down at Mrs. Finnegan with a frown. "I never once said that striking Oscar was a viable option of discipline for my son, Mrs. Finnegan." He truly didn't know what to think. She'd never struck him as a child, not that he could remember. "I think you should stick to beating rugs, and leave the child care to somebody who knows what they're doing." His voice held no heat, the anger gone with the realization that Mrs. Finnegan wasn't as wonderful as his childhood memories colored her. "Now, if you'll please retire to your room for the evening, Mrs. Finnegan." He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and turned to walk out of the tiny, suffocating room.

If Charley had known that Mr Blake could hear them, she would never have brought it up. As it was, she was struck dumb by his sudden appearance, her mouth hanging open in horror at having upset the apple cart on her first day. Mrs Finnegan was also shocked, but there was venom in the glance she threw toward Charley as she demurred to Mr Blake's instruction, moving from the room without another word. Left alone, Charley turned back to finishing with the laundry that was her responsibility, wincing at what she'd just done. That was not the way anyone should learn of what had been going on under their nose.

Ben stopped just outside of the room and couldn't bring himself to look at Mrs. F when she rushed away. "Charley," he spoke, without realizing it. How did she see something that was right under my nose? He sighed and turned around. "I apologize for Mrs. Finnegan's behavior, Charley. I really didn't know." He hung his head, that feeling of being a bad father returning in spades as his shoulders slumped. He turned then, and finally did walk away from the utility room. He wanted to sit with his son and watch him sleep.

Startled to hear her name spoken, she turned to find her employer just outside the door, dark eyes wide with guilt for what had just happened. "God, no, Mr Blake, I'm sorry," she hurried to apologize, but too late. He was already walking away, leaving her alone with her guilt once again. Great, just great. First day here, and I created an atmosphere. Fantastic.

"You've done nothing but open my eyes," he sighed. "You've nothing to be sorry for. Finish your laundry and meet me in the study in an hour. We've things to discuss." What things, he didn't specify. He just wanted out of that area and up to Oscar. His pace quickened and he hastened up the steps to his son's room. It was quiet, dark and warm and Oscar was sleeping peacefully in the crib that had been Ben's. Settling into a rocking chair, he sat and watched his son sleep. It amazed him that there was a smile on Oscar's rosebud mouth.

In that hour, Charley got more than just the laundry done. She'd spent years working on how to get all her chores done in a timely fashion at the end of every day - by the time the specified time came around, she'd already finished unpacking her clothes. Glancing at the clock, she swallowed, a little concerned about what this impromptu chat was going to be about, and picked up the manual. Barefoot, she padded down the stairs, moving to the study. Okay. Maybe about to be fired, but at least Oscar won't be spanked anymore. She raised her hand and knocked, waiting patiently to be invited inside.

The new nanny jumped at the sudden violence, her eyes wide once more as she stared at him for a long moment. One more bad thing, she thought to herself. Well, I could probably help with that. Embarrassing myself is probably the one way to save his mood. "Uh ....would it be a bad thing to hear that you're an awesome father" And the whole easy on the eyes thing isn't gonna make my job any harder."

"Seriously?" He dropped his head and turned it at the same time to give her an incredulous look. Rubbing his forehead, he closed his eyes and laughed. "I appreciate the humor. I'm a big fan of sarcasm, myself. You've got balls the size of grapefruits, Charley."

"Not humor, not sarcasm," she assured him with a smile, glad he knew how to smile away from his son, even if it was because he'd missed the point of her comment. "If you weren't my boss, I'd totally be hitting on you right now."

"But I am your boss," he reminded her. And though he was flattered, and if it had been anybody else, he might have considered hitting on her, there was a line that couldn't be crossed. "And we'll maintain a professional modicum, won't we, Charley?" Ben sounded like a pompous *ss, and he knew it.

"Oh, absolutely," she agreed, nodding as she grinned. "There are no circumstances in this situation under which it would be acceptable for me to join you in the shower." Her grin deepened as she snickered a bit. "I'm getting way too personal, aren't I?"

"Where did you come from?" He couldn't help but laugh at her outlandishness. And maybe, just maybe, that stick that was lodged up his *ss moved a fraction. "Absolutely no circumstances, whatsoever." Perhaps it was the drink, the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but tease back. She was such a bad influence! "Oh no, not too personal. Discussing how many tampons you'll use on your period is too personal," he snickered.

"Birth control, the wonder of the modern world," she laughed back at him, rolling her eyes. "And I came from the Upper East Side. I'm a terrible example of a privileged upbringing failing to get me into university and beyond."

It'd been far too long since Ben had laughed this long and heartily. He was sure that their laughter was echoing through the house and more than a small part of him was hoping that Mrs. Finnegan was choking on it. He fell back against the arm of the couch and breathed in deeply. "I've had way too much to drink," he snorted. And though he didn't openly say it, his body and eyes were giving Charley the open up the door and come on in vibe.

And, oh, she'd love to take him up on that invitation. But he was her boss, and more than that, he was drunk. Charley chuckled, shaking her head. "Need a hand up to bed, Mr Blake?" she offered in a friendly manner. It wasn't a part of her job, but better that than leaving him to sleep it off down here.

"I'm not that drunk," he grinned. It was an erratic ballet of twisting, pushing and finally pulling to get him to first a seated position, and then standing. He wobbled a little, nearly fell over, and then finally stood on his own two feet. "See, I can do it," he nodded for emphasis. That was his biggest mistake. The closing of his eyes and movement of his head made him dizzy enough to sit right back where he'd started, and promptly.

"Uh, yeah, you are that drunk," Charley laughed, pushing herself onto her feet and moving over to help him up once again. "C'mon, Mr Blake, up we come. All you have to do is stay upright and walking, and remember the way to your room. I'll steer."

"Upsy daisy," he cheered as his arm went around her shoulders and supported some of his weight when they stood up. "It's just up the stairs and down the hall a little," he slurred and shuffled his way beside her. "And there's a really big bed behind door number one."

"Oh God ..." Struggling a little already but still laughing, Charley eased herself and her new boss out of the study and into the hall, holding that arm about her shoulders as the other arm wrapped around his back. "You know," she muttered as they tackled the stairs, stumbling all the way, "there have gotta be better ways of getting a girl into your bedroom."

"Oh, yeah," he challenged her with a grin. "This seems to be working out just fine, if ya ask me," he replied a bit belligerently. The stairs were a comedy of trips, bumps and falls that had him laughing again by the time they reached the top. "Um..." he glanced around, then looked down at her. "Wrong stairs."

"Wrong stairs?" Charley sighed, out of breath and already tired, shifting to lean him against a wall as she looked around. "There's more than one set of stairs in this place?" She groaned, shaking her head, and heaved him upright again. "Screw that, you can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the couch in Oscar's playroom."

"No," he answered her question with a laugh. "April Fool's!" He laughed and rolled to the side. Stumbling now to stay upright, he plunged forward and into the door at the end of the hall. It opened with a loud bang and he fell into his bedroom. "Made you look, made you look!" He laughed from the flat of his back.

"Shhh!" Hurrying after him, she pushed his legs into the room and shut the door. "You're gonna wake your son!" Charley looked down at her employer, laughing his *ss off on the floor, and sighed once again. "C'mon, big guy, up we come again." Leaning down, she hooked her arms under his and heaved, lurching toward the bed, hoping to get him onto it before his legs gave out from under him.

Somehow Ben made it into the large four poster bed without another incident. If he ever found out how childlike he'd acted this night, he'd be abhorred. Looking at her from his sprawl, he lifted a brow. "Still wanting to sleep in my bed, Charley?" He had it all wrong, twisting her words about him sleeping in her bed while she occupied the couch in her son's nursery.