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“Well...your time is limited.” She waved the phone at me. “So, it’s okay?”
I shrugged.Great, she’s one of those “work all the time” types. That’s a bit of a buzzkill.“I suppose that’s fine.”
“Good.” She unlocked the device, opened what I assumed was the tape recorder app, and stepped toward me. “So...since this is a profile on you, I’d like to talk about a wide range of topics. Help readers...get to know you.” She glanced around and furrowed her brow. “Let’s start with this property...it...makes a statement. How does having a house like this make you feel?”
I laughed.This is how she starts off an interview? With that kind of question?“A house like this?”
“Well, not exactlythis.But the property overall. How does having it make you feel?”
I spread a hand. I didn’t have much of an answer, or at least, not an answer I wanted to give her. I decided to let my pause do the talking for me.
“You live here alone,” Rebecca pressed when the silence began to grow awkward. “Seems like an awful lot of space for one man.”
“I assure you, it’s not.”
“Could have used the money for other things, right? Other than this.”
“Quite an opener for your profile, Rebecca.” She shifted her weight and I relished the fact I’d made her uncomfortable again. I'd regained some of the power in the room.Excellent. I need to keep doing that.
“I’m not the one who installed someone they’ve never met into their pool house.” She looked down at her device and the ticking stopwatch showed the app was keeping track of all we said. “So, like I said, how does having this house make you feel?”
“Good.”
“A simple answer for a guy who grew up in foster care.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve done the bare minimum of research.”
“I tried to track down more of the story, but I’m sorry to say, I didn’t find much.”
We stared at each other for a beat.
“I feel good about this house,” I finally said. “Great about it, in fact. And on that note, I’ll let you settle in.”
“Wonderful.” She stopped the recording app. “I assume we’ll pick this up tomorrow morning, like we scheduled?”
“If you’d like.” I considered the prospect for a moment. There was something drawing me to her, and I suddenly didn’t want to wait until the next day to see her again. My next words surprised me. “How about this—how about you join me for dinner on the veranda this evening? Should be a nice night.”
“Oh.” Rebecca wavered. It was fun catching her off guard. I suspected little did, and here I was, doing it almost effortlessly. “Okay.”
“I like to eat at seven.” I paused again. I had plenty of things on my agenda to get back to. Work never really stopped for me too. Especially given I rarely came “home” and yet...here I was. It was time to take back control, and something told me Rebecca Owens worked better that way, anyway. “Don’t be late.”
She said she wouldn’t; I handed her the key and then I left. Soon enough, I was back in my home office, a bank of computers in front of me, and a mountain of paperwork ahead. I had so much to do, so many last-minute things to consider, but all I could think about was the way Rebecca’s hair twisted in the clip on her head.
This wasn’t like me.
