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“Nor would Noah permit such a person anywhere near him. Your lack of qualifications in that arena is an asset, for our intents and purposes.”
“Being underqualified is a good thing?”
Lucien chuckled, though it was a refined chuckle. “I have interviewed and hired six professional assistants in the last nine weeks. All of them quit or were dismissed by Noah shortly thereafter. None of those six interviews were quite like this one.”
“Maybe that’s because I didn’t know this was a job interview,” I offered with a weak laugh. “I mean…why me?”
“Because, Miss Conroy, I require—Noahrequires—someone with tenacity and compassion, who is able to see through the rough veneer to the suffering young man beneath. Someone who will treat Noah with kindness despite the fact that he might never return a fraction of the same courtesy to you.”
“He won’t? What’s wrong with him? Besides the blindness, I mean.”
“The accident stole more than Noah’s sight. It stripped him of all of the joy and happiness he’d possessed from doing what he loved most, leaving bitterness and anger behind.” Lucien leaned forward in earnest. “He is suffering, Miss Conroy, and I fear that unless he can begin to find acceptance, that suffering will consume him, and the vibrant young man I knew will be lost.”
“I…don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing yet.” Lucien pulled out a business card from a sleek silver case and slid it over the table to me. “When you go home tonight, go online. Google his name and then call me after you have done so. Any hour this night and I will answer any questions you may have.”
There was a short silence. I took the card, turned it over and over in my hand. Lucien was looking at me with such hope in his kind blue eyes.
“Can I ask, at least, how much this job pays?”
“Of course, my apologies,” Lucien said with a short laugh. “The nitty-gritty, as you Americans are fond of saying. The salary is $40,000 per annum, plus a food allowance and full health care benefits.”
I nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yes, that sounds fine. Perfect. Great.”
Oh my God!Suddenly this conversation wasn’t so strange anymore; it was a gift dropped into my lap. I could hardly keep from flying out of my chair and throwing my arms around Lucien’s neck. He was like a fairy godfather, come to rescue me from noisy roommates and lousy tips.
“I must warn you, Miss Conroy,” Lucien said gravely, “what you will find when you research Noah’s accident will not be easy to see. But I need you to see it, so that when he is severe or harsh with you, you will know you are not the source of his pain.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “And then what?”
“If you’re willing to accept the post, you’ll meet with Noah—tomorrow, preferably. He demands approval of all new hires. A formality, more than anything else, but it’s only fair that he be afforded a bit of agency, even if he uses it to bully and torment.”
Bully and torment? That didn’t sound promising, but—I had to admit—the salary was dancing in my head with actual dollar signs around it. And benefits? Health care? That was icing on the cake to a girl like me who had to sit in a crowded clinic for four hours with a 103-degree fever last winter.
“I’m afraid I must go.” Lucien rose and offered his hand. “I leave you with this parting thought: I am hiring a personal assistant, Miss Conroy. That is the job on paper. But I have high hopes that if you take the post, you will become more to Noah. Someone he needs more than a maid or cook.”
“What does he need?”
He smiled sadly. “Someone who stays.”
chapter six
I was sorely tempted to get on my cell phone and google “Noah Lake” on the train home. But Lucien deserved that I give this my undivided attention. Not to mention, I was a little bit worried about what I was going to be looking at. “Gruesome details,” Lucien had said. Things about Noah that were “not easy to see.”
I got home close to four p.m. Emily wasn’t yet back from her nanny job, but she would be soon, demanding rent money I didn’t have. Forrest and Collin were there, hanging out in the living room because God forbid, I’d ever,everhave the place to myself for an hour.
I breezed past them with a muttered hello and locked myself in my room. I fired up my laptop and typed in “Noah Lake.”
A score of headlines popped up:
Extreme Sports Athlete In Coma After Acapulco Cliff Dive
Planet XJournalist/Photog Airlifted To Hospital Naval De Acapulco In Critical Condition
Extreme Sports Journalist, Noah Lake, 23, Arrives At UCLA
I clicked through a few more and then began reading. The gist was the same. Last July, Noah had been cliff diving off of a one hundred and thirty-foot outcropping in La Quebrada, Mexico. The cliffs were notoriously treacherous, allowing only an eleven foot safe-depth for divers for a few seconds at a time.
