2
Liam
"So, tell us about yourself."
I ask the woman sitting across from me the same opening question I've asked the last three candidates while I actively try not to stare at the piercing in her lip. She's probably in her mid-twenties, and is wearing entirely too much black stuff on her eyes. But according to her resume, she worked with her last family for almost five years. With a track record like that, I'm attempting to see past the metal in her face and the amount of skin she's currently showing, but my patience with this entire process is already very thin.
"Well, I worked with the Cunninghams for five years until their youngest went to kindergarten. Before that, I was in school for—"
"How about something that we don't see on your resume," I suggest. My tone drips with annoyance that isn't entirely meant for her. This is day two of interviews, and despite being at it for hours, I'm no closer to finding a new nanny for Ruthie than I was at the beginning of the week. I sit up straighter on the couch, attempting to perk myself up. "So we can get to know you better."
Erica fidgets in her seat, crossing and then uncrossing her legs again. "Uh, what do you want to know?"
My brother Levi, who I dragged into this mess for moral support—or to keep my sanity—leans forward and places his elbows onto his knees. "Whatever," he says casually. "What do you do for fun? What kind of music do you listen to? What goals do you have?"
"I like videography," she says quickly. "I do that as a side gig. But I don't really listen to music—punk, I guess, if I had to pick. And goals…" She nips at the silver ball in her bottom lip, and I try to disguise my wince as a smile. "Honestly, I'm just hoping my social media thing takes off."
"Oh, are you some sort of influencer?" I ask, my irritation resurfacing as the image of my very impressionable eleven-year-old pops to the forefront of my mind.
"Um…" Her cheeks blush as she looks down at her feet, then slowly drags them closer to the couch. "Yeah, sure." Erica wiggles her red-polished toenails, then grins. "Something like that."
I glance over at Levi, who is staring at her open-toed shoes like they're a puzzle he's trying to put together. He looks at me, then back down at her sandals and arches a brow either tauntingly or out of curiosity.
I roll my eyes back to Erica and sigh heavily. "Anything else?" I ask, mustering any leftover hope.
"I like to paint."
My ears perk up. "Do you?" I lean forward slightly, waiting for her response. Ruthie loves anything art related—drawing, crafting, jewelry mak—
"Totally. Body painting is like really big right now in electronic media."
I shake my head, furrowing my brow. "I'm sorry, did you say body painting?"
Erica nods, her round eyes blinking slowly. Mine grow wide as I tell Levi everything I need to say without any words at all.
Interpreting me perfectly, my brother clears his throat and takes over. "How about you tell us what you think an average day might look like for Ruthie."
Erica snaps the gum I didn't realize she was chewing and tilts her head sideways. "Who's Ruthie?"
"That's it." I pop up from the couch and wander over to the kitchen island. Levi says something about that being all for today, right before hisWe'll be in touchechoes off the cabinets.
Like hell we will.
Two sets of footsteps tap against the hardwood floor as my brother guides her out—Levi's socks and Erica's questionable, yet assumingly profitable sandals.
I stare down at the apparently useless resumes that riddle the marble, waiting for the door to shut. When it does, I heave a sigh of relief and drop my elbows to the counter, resting my forehead in my palms. "Is she gone?" I ask, my voice muffled by my hands.
"She's gone."
I drag my head up just in time to catch Levi smirk as he walks past me toward the coffeemaker. He opens the cabinet above him and pulls two mugs out before pouring the hot liquid into both.
"So whereismy niece today?" my brother asks, moving toward the fridge. He pulls the almond milk out and dumps a heavy splash into one before setting it in front of me.
"Wait, who?" I ask sarcastically. Levi laughs, and I round the island with my mug before plopping onto a stool. "She's with Nellie."
He pauses, then hesitantly slides the pot back under the machine and turns toward me slowly. "Hold on… The old nanny?" he asks, confused. "I thought she was doing art therapy now or something. Isn't that the whole reason we're in this situation?"
I nod, blowing into the caffeine, suddenly wishing my hockey coach of a brother would have offered smelling salts instead. "She is. But when I told her about this last week, she said the two clients she usually has after Ruthie canceled their sessions this afternoon—twin brothers. So, she offered to take her out for ice cream to catch up. And so that I could hopefully find her replacement."
