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Lindsay
The lobby of the Imperial building was as imposing as it was beautiful. It was obvious to me that I didn’t belong, and I was sure the others milling around the area realized it too. An older, portly gentleman opened the door for me, bending his head. “Good morning, miss.”
“Uh, hi.” I walked through the doorway and stood hesitantly for a moment. “I’m here to meet Mr. Hudson. I guess I’ll be staying here. I mean…” I trailed off with a shrug, not sure what else to say.
“Wonderful. My name is Bill, Miss…?”
“Valentine, but please call me Lindsay.”
He nodded again. “Thank you, Miss Lindsay. Go straight to the door marked Security down the hallway. I’m certain Mr. Hudson will have left the information with the office, and they’ll process you.”
That sounded official and slightly daunting. Managing a shaky smile, I thanked him and turned in the direction he pointed. I found the security office easily enough and opened the door gingerly. When I stepped inside, a blond man in a dark uniform looked up from his bank of monitors and frowned at me.
I cleared my throat. “Bill sent me here.”
He looked impatient. “I see that. For what?”
“Mr. Hudson is expecting me. I’m the new nanny, I guess.”
He arched a brow. “You guess?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s a done deal, but um… maybe it’s an interview.”
He slid his chair to reach a computer and typed for a moment. “Nope, looks like you got the job. Here you are. Mr. Hudson has requested the full-access package for you. Let’s get you set up. ID?”
He waved me over, and I spent the next few minutes obeying his instructions. He took a picture, recorded information about me, and finished up by having me place my hand on a panel. “What is this?”
“It’s taking a biometric print of your hand to allow you easy access through security checkpoints.”
Hesitantly, I pressed my palm fully against the black panel. “Will it hurt?”
“Nope.” He pressed a button on the computer.
With a brief flash of light that reminded me of the scanner on my computer at home, it zipped down the length of my palm. No pain.
“All set.”
I lifted my hand and had barely done so when he held out a plastic badge to me. I looked down at my picture, which wasn’t half as terrible as the one on my school ID card. My name was printed there, along with Mr. Hudson’s address and apartment number, and the designation of “Staff.”
“You can go on up. You’ll be able to access the elevators with your palm. Mr. Hudson lives on the sixty-sixth floor.”
“Sixty-six? The whole floor?” I asked, reading it from the ID card.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t seem inclined to answer and was already returning to his bank of security cameras. With a small shrug, I left the office and re-entered the lobby.
The bank of elevators was easy to find, and I figured out the biometric panel easily enough. When I stepped inside, the elevator was the nicest I’d ever seen, with its glossy black tile floors and chrome walls. There was a tasteful painting mounted to the wall, and an electronic billboard on the side that seemed to list monthly events at the Imperial—which was far too fancy to have handwritten signs or a corkboard in the lobby.
The ride was faster than I expected, even with stopping twice on different floors to collect passengers, and I was standing in front of sixty-six all too soon. The process of getting cleared by security had temporarily dispelled some of my nervousness, but it came back in spades as I lifted my hand to ring the bell.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and blotted my sweaty palm against the side of my black skirt before lifting my hand to try again. This time, my finger connected with the ringer, and I pressed it with another swallow. It had barely finished ringing when a young woman in a black and white uniform opened the ornate door. Her expression of relief was disconcerting.
“Oh, hello! You must be Ms. Valentine.”
“Yes.”
“Come in. Did you bring luggage? If so, I can put it in your room while you’re greeting Miss Elle.”
