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I wasn’t entirely sure what that involved or how well it would or wouldn’t pay, but I’d specified no live-in positions. That was a big reason why it had taken so long to find me a placement. Most of the Hartwell Agency’s clients wanted someone full time for their yacht crew or a live-in nanny. And I couldn’t commit to something like that. Not when Mom was still undergoing treatment and needed me.
Even if I were available, I wasn’t interested in being a nanny. Emerson loved it. She adored kids. She wanted to be a mom someday. But me…well, I was just trying to survive. And if being a parent was anything like shouldering the responsibility of taking care of my mom since her diagnosis, I wasn’t sure I wanted to sign up for something like that.
Especially not if it meant being a single mom like mine. I saw what my dad leaving had cost her. I didn’t have many memories of him, but I remembered the effect of his absence—both on my mom and me. At least it had taught me a valuable life lesson—the only person I could rely on was myself.
“Between you and me,” Staci said, lowering her voice. “It’s one of the sweetest gigs we have. Placements like this are usually snatched up immediately.”
Yet she was presenting it to me. The fact that this one was available at all seemed like a pretty big red flag.
“You rarely interact with the client,” she continued, oblivious to my internal debate. “You get paid to live in a beautiful home, and the duties are typically pretty light.”
I frowned as more warning bells blared in my head. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she said in a light tone. “The main rule is that parties aren’t permitted under any circumstances. And some clients can be very particular about how the house is kept, but that’s understandable, considering the cost of the homes and furnishings.”
I nodded, thinking that wasn’t unreasonable.
“It sounds promising,” I finally admitted. “But—” I glanced back at the treatment center, my thoughts on my mom.
“Look,” Staci said in a firm but professional tone. “I know you’re not interested in live-in positions, but since there’s no childcare involved, you’d have a lot of flexibility. Plus, it’s in Holmby Hills. And it doesn’t start for another month or so.”
My jaw dropped, my mind still stuck on the location.
Wow. Holmby Hills wastheneighborhood of celebrities and legends. Walt Disney had once had a home there, as had Frank Sinatra. It was… I couldn’t even imagine who I might run into. Let alone how incredible the house would be. And I’d get to live there? It was definitely a step up from an air mattress in the corner of my mom’s living room.
“What would be expected of me?” I asked, mostly out of a perverse sense of curiosity. I couldn’t actually take the position, could I?
But my mind was already calculating ways to make this work. How far it would be to Mom’s condo, where I’d been living the past six months. The logistics of getting her to and from her appointments.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Holmby Hills wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. And Stacihadsaid it was flexible.
“I can email you the details for this client’s specifications. The house is currently undergoing renovations, so you’d help supervise those.”
“But I don’t have construction experience.”
“You don’t need to. The designer will handle all that, but you’d let in the contractors who need to work. Plus, you’d help manage the cleaning crew and grounds team, coordinate pool maintenance and deliveries. But generally, you’d have the place to yourself.”
Pool maintenance? That meant there was a pool. I’d always dreamed of living in a house with a pool.
That was a big selling point. Not to mention the fact that it would bring in some more cash. And the rest of the requirements didn’t sound so bad.
“Can I think about it?”
“I need an answer by the end of the day, or I’ll have to call the next person on my list.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
We ended the call, and I gazed up at the sky. I closed my eyes and allowed the warmth of the sun to permeate my skin. I imagined what it would be like to lounge by the pool at a celebrity’s mansion in Holmby Hills. I pictured how nice it would be to pretend that was my life, even if only for a moment.
A life filled with staff who took care of everything. Where I wasn’t constantly on the go. Where I wasn’t exhausted with worry. Where…
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I frowned and opened my eyes, the fantasy fading instantly. A calendar reminder popped up on the screen, telling me to schedule a refill for one of my mom’s prescriptions. I sighed and headed back inside, my shoulders hunching the moment the sterile air hit my face.
When I returned to Mom’s side, she opened her eyes and peered at me briefly before shutting them again. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, crossing my legs. “It was the Hartwell Agency.”
She opened her eyes again, hope replacing fatigue. “They found you a placement?”
