“I wanted to reiterate,” he said as he led me deeper into the house, “that the children are at school during the day, so we mostly need your help in the mornings and afternoons into the evening.”
“Yes, you mentioned that on the phone.” The poor man was trying to sell me on the position.
“While they’re at school, you’re welcome to use one of the upstairs rooms as an office or workspace.” He hesitated. “Or a temporary bedroom if needed between shifts.”
The children all looked at me now, curiosity shining on their faces.
Oh dear. This was the part where I tried to turn down a kind offer without giving any indication that I wasn’t human.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said gently. “But I already have accommodations.”
Which was technically true. Though, admittedly, “accommodations” sounded considerably more dignified than an extremely customized hearse with blackout windows parked discreetly beneath tree cover, where I intended to spend daylight hours inside a casket.
Once the children left for school each morning, I would retreat to the vehicle, inter myself for the day, then emerge before they arrived home from school. It certainly wasn’t glamorous, but it was effective.
Mr. Lawrence nodded, though confusion flickered across his face. “You’ll commute each day?”
“Yes.”
Billie tugged on my sleeve. “Do you live in a castle?”
Bianca scrunched her face in visible secondhand embarrassment.
“No,” I said.
“A haunted castle?” she guessed again.
“Billie,” Mr. Lawrence said tiredly.
“What? Some people live in castles.”
“Miss Carrington does not,” he said.
I tilted my head as I looked at the little girl. “Not currently.”
Billie gasped again, and her father looked alarmed. CJ, however, looked thoroughly entertained.
We continued through the house as Mr. Lawrence explained routines, school schedules, food preferences, emergency contacts, allergies, pickup procedures, and household systems. He was trying desperately not to appear desperate.
Unfortunately for him, I had met desperate people before.
Desperation often wore competence very convincingly. He spoke clearly and thoughtfully, but every few minutes, his gaze drifted unconsciously toward the children, as though to check they were still emotionally and physically intact. That told me far more than his words did.
The children followed behind us, CJ and Bianca observing my every movement. Billie was the only one who paid less attention to me and more to her surroundings. She touched nearly everything she passed. At one point, she picked up a decorative brass bird from a side table and asked, “If I swallowed this, would I die?”
“Billie,” her father said immediately.
“What? Hypothetically.”
“No,” I answered calmly. “But it would mean an inconvenient hospital visit.”
She nodded thoughtfully and put it back.
“Impressive vocabulary, young lady,” I added quickly.
Billie beamed. I had to stop myself from smiling, because Mr. Lawrence looked one minor incident away from a stress-induced collapse.
We eventually reached the kitchen, where tall windows sat over polished counters, and evidence of pancake batter still lingered near the sink.
