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I go along the line and shake hands, smiling at everyone.
“Take a seat, Kiara.”
I take my seat on one side of the table, clasping my hands in my lap. God, can they see how nervous I am? A trickle of sweat runs down the back of my neck and I regret dressing in a full suit. My forearm itches, and I resist the urge to scratch it. Why is it so hot in here?
“Welcome, Kiara.” Max smiles at me. His eyes display warmth and encouragement, which spurs me on. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. I can do this.
“Okay, firstly, I’m very excited to be here. I completed my teaching degree back in 2008. Shortly after, I got pregnant with my daughter, which put my teaching plans on hold.” I’m rambling. I pause to take a breath and then continue. “I’ve been working as an assistant to the director at Holloworth Art Gallery for the last four years, but now I’m looking to get back into teaching.”
“Did you complete your teaching registration in 2008?” the superintendent, who I think is Rob, asks.
I nod. “Yes. At that stage I thought I would be back to teaching when Tilly was old enough.”
“And what happened?”
“Life happened,” I say.
I place my hands palms down in my lap. My voice shakes, but I know this needs to be said. I’m not after their pity, but I do need them to understand that I’m a strong person who has dealt with a lot. I focus on Max as I speak, studying the way his dark hair catches the soft glow of sunlight streaming though the narrow window above him.
“My fiancé was seriously injured in a car accident, which left him in a coma. He’s been in a coma for the last three years. I was left to care for my daughter alone. The position at the gallery came up and they were very flexible with my needs when it came to my daughter.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your fiancé,” Rob says, his face sympathetic. “Can I ask why the gallery is no longer suitable for you?”
“The previous director was a friend of my fiancé’s family. He understood and was sympathetic to my circumstances. The new director decided they needed to cut down on staff by having full-time positions only.”
“Right.” He nods. “Are you going to have any problems meeting the three days this position requires?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “My daughter is a student at this school. I don’t see any problem in fulfilling my expectations.”
“Good,” Max says, nodding. “Let’s move on. We have a few questions that we would like for you to answer, if that’s okay?”
I nod, smiling brightly. Inside, I’m dying. Scenario-type questions, like the ones Max and I went over last night, scare the hell out of me. For the first few, I stumble through my answers, cringing as I think about how unprofessional I sound. I catch Max’s eye and he nods encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, I refocus and remember what he said to me. They want to hear passion about teaching. Why do I want this? What can I offer that nobody else can?
By the end of the interview, things are going a hell of a lot better.
I’m thankful for all Max’s help. Without his preparations I’m sure I would’ve tanked the whole interview. I stand up, glad it’s over, but not overly confident I’ll be successful. Surely the other applicants have more experience than me? The only thing I have going for me is my relationship with Max.
“Thanks, Kiara, we’ll be in touch.” Max smiles.
I stand up, and he rises with me. I thank the panel and shake their hands, trying to look for a hint in their expressions. I get nothing.
Max stands and follows me out, edging the door closed behind him as we exit the conference room. Leaning over, he whispers just loud enough for me to hear, “You did well. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”
I nod, not fully processing what he’s saying. What lasted forty-five minutes felt like hours, but I got through it. I’m both relieved and proud of myself. I think I did well, but whether I did enough to secure the job? Time will tell.
As I’m leaving the parking lot, my phone rings. I frown when I see that it’s Heather. Running into her and Jim last night had been awkward to say the least, especially the way she was looking at Max. I knew exactly what was going on in her mind and it made me angry. Why wasn’t I allowed to go out with a friend? Who did she think she was, jumping to conclusions like that?
She had no idea the emotional battle I’d been fighting with myself over the feelings I have for another man. But maybe she knew me better than I knew myself, because as it turned out, she was right.
The kiss had confused things even more, because now not only was I lying to her about who Max was to me, I was lying to myself.
Sighing, I pull over, silently praying the phone will stop ringing by the time I press answer. No such luck.
“Hello?”
“Kiara,” she says, her tone clipped. “I was hoping you could come over. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
