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CHAPTERONE
Hayley peeked her head behind the curtain, her black scrubs covered in little cartoon turkeys in honor of Thanksgiving approaching. “Can I get you anything?”
Mom barely stirred. “Thanks, but we’re good.”
Hayley nodded and checked my mom’s vital signs while she dozed in the oversized leather chair. She looked so small, so shrunken beneath the plush blanket. Her skin was pale, but her bright lipstick matched the colorful scarf wrapped around her head.
“Why don’t you grab some lunch?” Hayley said. “I can text you when she wakes up.”
I kept my attention on my computer screen, intent on finishing my lesson plans for next week. “I’m okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll check back in a little bit. Come find me if you need anything.”
I nodded, finally glancing up at her to smile. “Thank you, Hayley. I appreciate it.”
She lingered a moment then said, “It’s nice of you to keep her company. Having a support system has been shown to improve patients’ recovery.”
I’d seen that in my research, but even if I hadn’t, I’d still be here. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Hayley pumped the hand sanitizer unit on the wall and rubbed her hands together. “A few of us are going out tomorrow night. We’d love for you to join us.”
“Thanks, but, um—” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I can’t.”
“Okay. Well, text me if you change your mind.” She winked before disappearing once more.
A moment later, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pressed the button to connect the call, careful to keep my voice low so as not to disturb my mom or the other patients. “Hello?”
“Kendall?”
“Yes?”
“This is Staci from the Hartwell Agency. Do you have a minute?”
“Yes. Of course.” I switched my phone to my other ear and slung my purse over my shoulder. The strap was fraying, the leather worn from overuse. When my mom opened her eyes slowly and focused on me, I mouthed, “Be right back,” and stepped out of the room.
“Give me just a second,” I said to Staci as I wound through the hallways until I was stepping through the sliding doors to the parking lot, leaving stale air and the scent of antiseptic behind for a beautiful, sunny Southern California day.
For the first time in hours, I felt as if I could breathe fully again. The treatment center wasn’t as bad as a hospital, but it wasn’t much better either.
“Hey. Okay.” I inhaled deeply, calming myself. “I can talk now.”
“I’m calling because we may have a placement for you.”
“Oh.” I straightened, perking up at the prospect. “That’s great news.”
I’d signed up with the Hartwell Agency a month ago, and I’d been waiting for a placement ever since. They were a bespoke recruitment service that placed nannies, jet crew, and other household staff with wealthy clients around the world. My best friend, Emerson, was a nanny for the agency, and she’d suggested I apply.
“Now, I know you were hoping for translator or tutoring positions. But as I mentioned previously, they’re pretty rare.”
My heart sank. I’d really been hoping for something that would allow me to use my degrees and practice my French or Spanish. I got to do that for my online tutoring gig, but I was hoping for more of a challenge. Even so, I wasn’t terribly surprised. The Hartwell Agency had told me as much when I’d interviewed.
“That said,” Staci continued, “I found something else I think would be a good fit.”
“I’d love to hear about it,” I said, trying to infuse my voice with enthusiasm I didn’t feel. Between grad school loans and my mom’s medical bills, I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. My online tutoring gig helped pay the bills, but only just barely. What little savings we’d had had long since been depleted. I was barely making ends meet, let alone making a dent in our debt.
“One of our clients is looking for a house sitter.”
“House sitter?” I frowned.
