AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The Keifers lived up in the hills along the winding roads and the estates that were built overlooking the ocean. It was a stunning home, without question, but it always felt somewhat cold and sterile in its gargantuan size. They had a maid that came three times a week, several gardeners, a pool, and sweeping views of the Pacific, and they hosted regular events on their property.
This house feels like a completely different, very tamable beast.
There’s an actual white picket fence that borders the grass along the sidewalk, a lawnmower tucked along a tiny path leading to the back, and a front porch with two rocking chairs.
It’s still on the large side with two stories and a wide lot, but it feels like people actually live here.
A family lives here.
This is the kind of home I want for myself someday.
Although, maybe a little bit smaller.
Slipping out of the front seat, I press my hands nervously along my black pants, trying to smooth the creases that popped up on the short drive from Leighton’s, then walk slowly to the front door.
Jorrine sent me a file about the family, but I haven’t taken a look at it yet, mostly because I didn’t want to find something that made me want to sabotage my interview. I’d rather be offered the job and then find out something crazy.
It’s definitely stupid, but I’m trying to go with my gut on this one, and my gut is saying, This is your one shot, honey—don’t fuck it up.
When I knock on the door, it opens quickly, a sweet-faced elderly gentleman opening it and giving me a warm smile.
I’m instantly put at ease.
“You must be Emily,” he says, reaching his hand out to shake mine. “Thrilled to meet you. I’m Roger, and this is my wife, Sharon.”
He gestures to his left, to a woman standing inches from him with her own wide smile.
“Nice to meet you both,” I say, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. “Thank you so much for inviting me over.”
Roger waves a hand to invite me in, and I step past him into the small entry that opens into…well, I’m assuming it’s the living room, but there’s no furniture, save for a large blue recliner in the corner.
“Don’t mind the state of the house, dear,” Sharon tells me with a reassuring smile. “The house is going through…a bit of a remodel. Can we get you anything? Water? Soda?”
I shake my head. “I’m good, but thank you for offering.”
She nods then motions for me to follow her.
I do, taking in as much of the house as I can. The living room is large with high ceilings open to the second floor above. It’s a spacious living area that leads into an expansive kitchen with a massive island in the center.
I think I assumed we would be chatting in the kitchen, so I’m surprised when we continue walking, out through the large sliding door to the back yard.
I have to say, it’s just as picturesque as the front. A large covered deck with a railing stretches along the back of the house, hosting a patio set and a covered grill. Two steps down from the deck is a large swathe of green grass leading away and then slowly sloping upward until it runs into the fence of the house behind it.
Off to the left and gated off in a separate section of the yard is a small pool surrounded by concrete and a few lounge chairs. And to the right, in the back corner, is the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen, with a tire swing hanging from a low branch, swaying in the breeze.
“It feels like something out of a movie,” I say, taking a seat at the patio table with Sharon and Roger. “I had friends growing up that lived in this neighborhood, and I was always jealous of how large the yards were.”
“Your background check says you’ve always lived in Sandalwood,” Sharon comments. “Any particular reason you’ve never ventured out?”
“I went to college in Santa Barbara,” I tease, garnering a deeper smile from her. Then I shrug. “I’m just happy here. I’m not a person who is constantly looking for the next thing that will ‘finally make me happy.’ I can travel when I want to explore, but I love living in the same place I grew up.”
Sharon seems to think that over for a moment before looking to Roger, who takes the lead.
“Thank you for interviewing with us today, Emily. We’ve read your file and references and are very impressed,” he says.
I blush. I know my file is exceptional, but it still feels a little strange to have someone point it out, especially when I know exactly what they’ve read about me.
“Thank you. Working with children is my heart’s passion,” I tell them, hoping to convey just how much I love it without sounding like a total nut.
