Wiley Johns

by Ciana Stone

  “What?” She laughed. “This is ridiculous! You want me to be some kind of spy or something? Well, duh—take a good look. I’m not exactly trained for the James Bond-kind of thing.”

  Gaspar reached out to take one of her hands in both of his. “Not even if I told you that at least two of the stones and the housing device are hidden somewhere in this very city?”

  Nikki pulled her hand away and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Despite her suspicions, excitement rose within her. “And just what exactly would this ‘spy’ have to do, Mr. De Troyes?”

  “Please, call me Gaspar.” He smiled then asked, “Tell, me how are you at working with the handicapped?”

  Nikki’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  “Yes, that’s right. We’ll expect you. Goodbye.”

  “Who are we expecting?” Helen asked from behind Richard as he cradled the receiver.

  “Another candidate.”

  A member of the household staff woman entered the room behind Helen and placed a tea service on the table. “Shall I serve?”

  “No, thank you, Deborah. That will be all,” Helen took a seat and started pouring the tea herself. She handed Richard a cup. “Tell me about this new candidate.”

  “Nikki Morgan, a graduate student at the university who’s looking for summer employment.”

  “A graduate student?” Helen arched her eyebrows. “In what?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Hmmm. Well, at any rate, I think we need to rethink letting potential candidates meet Maxwell. Honestly, you’d think he could at least put forth some effort to appear — acceptable, for our sake. How are we ever supposed to locate appropriate help if he insists on behaving like some type of—well, you know.”

  In the middle of Helen’s complaint, Richard set his teacup on the table and rose from his chair. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him move to the buffet and pour himself a stiff drink.

  It was a constant source of annoyance to her the way he tuned her out when she was attempting to make a valid and legitimate point about something of importance. Not that she was surprised. He’d not been interested in what she thought for years. There was little reason to suppose that would change. But he could at least show enough courtesy to not turn his back on her while she was speaking.

  Sometimes she wondered if she’d made a monumental mistake staying with Richard. What joy might she have experienced if she had explored other paths?

  Immediately she chastised herself for such thoughts. Richard might not be attentive, and they might not have any type of intimate relationship, but he provided the lifestyle she craved. Without him, her social standing would be markedly diminished, and that was something she was not willing to risk, for anything.

  Richard returned to his chair and took a seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “Do you ever wonder what life might have been if he had not become—?”

  Helen looked sharply at him, surprised at the wistful tone in his voice. She’d pondered that question on numerous occasions.

  “Quite a bit less stressful, I would imagine.”

  Richard nodded. “Yes, quite a bit.”

  Neither of them noticed the motion from the door, as the silent eavesdropper moved soundlessly down the hall.

  Nikki turned into the elaborate entrance and stopped at the gate. A sudden queasy feeling took control of her stomach. The entrance to the Weston estate was like something out of picture book. There was no way in the world people with that much money were going to hire someone like her to take care of their child.

  She almost turned around and left, but couldn’t turn her back on the slim possibility that maybe they wouldn't boot her out as soon as they got a look at her, and maybe Gaspar wasn’t as crazy as he seemed. If there was a chance that one of the Stones or the housing device was hidden somewhere on the Weston estate, she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least consider the possibility and check it out.

  She rolled down her window and punched the call button beneath the speaker. A male voice came through the speaker.

  “Weston residence. How may I assist you?”

  “Hi, I’m Nikki Morgan. I have an appointment with the Westons about a job?”

  “Yes, Ms. Morgan. Please drive up.”

  A moment later, the massive iron gate swung open. Nikki pulled through, driving slowly and marveling at the beautiful landscaped grounds.

  An older man in a dark suit was standing outside the front door, his hands clasped in front of him. Nikki parked and got out, looking up at the mansion that reached three stories above her and seemed to spread out endlessly to either side.

  “Ms. Morgan, good afternoon. I’m Osgood Gaynor, the Weston’s butler. If you will please accompany me, I’ll show you to the sitting room.”

  Nikki smiled and followed him inside. She felt a little like the pauper who'd had suddenly wandered into the king’s castle. She followed Osgood through the foyer, down a hall wide enough to be a room and past an enormous arboretum. At last they stopped outside an opened door.

  “Ms. Nikki Morgan,” Osgood announced and stepped aside for Nikki to enter the room.

  “Thank you, Osgood.” Richard rose and walked to the door to meet Nikki. “Ms. Morgan, I’m Richard Weston. This is my wife, Helen. Please, come in.”

  Nikki glanced up at Richard, trying not to notice the way he was looking at her chest. She wondered just how rude it would be to pull her denim shirt together over her T-shirt.

  “Hello.” She looked at Helen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  Richard escorted her with his hand lightly against her back to a seat across from the divan on which Helen was perched. Helen looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. Nikki took a seat, quickly adjusting her shirt so that it covered the T-shirt underneath, wishing she had chosen something dressier.

  “Could we offer you something to drink, Ms. Morgan?” Helen asked. “Tea, a soft drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Nikki thought the best thing to do was get the interview over as quickly as possible. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she definitely didn’t fit into the Westons’ lifestyle. She pulled her resume from her scarred vinyl folio and extended it in their direction.

  Richard accepted it, pulled out his glasses, put them on, and quickly scanned down the page. Helen simply sat watching Nikki with her hands folded in her lap until Richard finished then reached out for the resume.

  “So, you’re a doctoral candidate.” Richard removed his glasses.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please don’t think me rude, Ms. Morgan.” Helen looked up from the resume. “But I noticed you list your age as twenty-eight. Isn’t that a bit…mature to be just now in graduate school?”

  The question caught Nikki off guard. “Well…I don’t know. I didn’t know there was a cut-off age for education.” She immediately gave herself a swift mental kick when she saw the flash of irritation on Helen Weston’s face. “I mean, umm—”

  Richard waved off the rest of her attempt. “I’m sure my wife didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Not at all,” Helen added in a tone that spoke to the contrary. “I simply was curious why your education was taking such an inordinately long period of time. According to your resume you’ve been in college for quite a number of years.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “And the reason?” Helen asked.

  Nikki felt a bit of ire bubble in the pit of her stomach. What difference did her choice of majors or number of years it was taking to finish make to her getting this job? “It’s taken me that long to pay for it.” Her answer held a bit more challenge than she would’ve wished, but her natural defense was armed against the obvious distaste Helen Weston held for her.

  “I see.” Helen placed the resume on the table. “Richard?”

  “Ah, yes.” He turned his attention to Nikki. “Have you any publications to date or received any research grants?”

  “Nothing noteworthy.
I’ve written several papers that’ve been published in academic works, and one article that was used in a book by Professor Christian Bernard. And grants are rarely given to doctoral candidates.”

  “I see. Well, religious archaeology and anthropology is a very interesting, if somewhat unusual field. I have interests in several scholarly publications, as well as research facilities and government programs, that sort of thing. Quite an interesting field. Now, Nikki—you don’t mind if I call you Nikki?”

  “No, sir, that’s fine.”

  “Excellent. Nikki, you mentioned during our phone conversation that the only experience you have in child care is a summer job in a…what was it?”

  “Day-care facility. I worked there for two summers and in the afternoons.”

  “Yes, of course. And you have no other experience?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Richard, pardon, darling, but if you don’t mind?” Helen waved her hand gracefully, palm up as she spoke.

  Richard inclined his head and Helen turned to Nikki with a small but brief smile.

  “Tell me, Nikki, if you’ve had virtually no experience in the field, what exactly makes you feel you’re equipped for such a position?”

  Nikki looked from her to Richard and back again. Her mind was racing, trying to find something she could say.

  “Actually, nothing, I guess, except that I take responsibility seriously and I’m pretty good at seeing things through.”

  “I see.” Helen turned to Richard with one delicate brow arched, before she looked at Nikki again. “Would you mind me asking, dear, why exactly you want this position?”

  “No, I don’t mind. The truth is, I need a job. I’d kind of like to keep a roof over my head and be able to eat.”

  “I take that to mean that you do not live at home?”

  “No, ma’am. My parents are both dead. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”

  “And worked your way through college?” Richard asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, that certainly demonstrates determination and responsibility, doesn’t it? I commend you. Not everyone possesses the kind of resolve necessary to accomplish such a goal. Aside from your lack of experience, have you ever had the occasion to associate with disabled or handicapped people, Nikki?”

  “Not really. Well, a little, I guess. I have friends with physical limitations, but I’ve never really thought of them as disabled.”

  “I think what Richard is referring to is along the lines of a mental disability,” Helen said. “You see, our Maxwell is a—unique boy. He isn’t involved in sports or such activities, but prefers to spend most of his time in his quarters with his little electronic toys. He does enjoy swimming from time to time and occasionally playing in the gym or attempting to swat at balls on the tennis courts. Primarily, he’s very drawn to television and films.”

  Nikki nodded. “I see. So, if you don’t mind me asking, exactly what would you need in terms of child care?”

  “Primarily we need someone to keep an eye on Maxwell when he’s out of doors, someone to occupy him with games and movies, outdoor activities and the like. The staff will see to his upkeep in terms of keeping his quarters tidy and preparing his meals. You, if you were offered the position, of course, would generally function in the role of companion.”

  “So it would be a more or less round-the-clock job?”

  “Oh, heavens no. Of course not. Maxwell is quite regimented. He goes to bed promptly at nine p.m. ever and wakens at precisely seven am. The housekeeper Louise sees to his breakfast. Your day would begin at eight. At noon Maxwell has lunch, followed by a two-hour nap. Dinner is at seven. Immediately after dinner, he bathes and is allowed to view a film or play with his computers until bedtime. You would be given Friday evening off after dinner and all day Sunday, during which time Osgood and Louise will see to Maxwell.”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound too difficult. But there is one thing I need to ask. I’m working on my thesis and there may be times I need to go to the university. Would that be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so,” Richard answered. “Providing, of course, it’s not a habitual occurrence. However, I’m sure the staff will work out an acceptable schedule with you. And I’ll be happy to provide you with online access to the university, as well as several other fine research facilities, if you like.”

  “Thanks.” Nikki smiled. “That’d be great.”

  “Marvelous. Are there any other questions?”

  “Yes. What does the job pay?”

  Richard chuckled as if amused. “Forgive me, my dear. Your lodging and meals will, of course, be provided. You’ll receive a weekly allowance of a thousand dollars for personal incidentals, and if you prove capable of remaining in the position until our scheduled return you will receive a lump sum of fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Fifteen thousand dollars?” When he said a thousand a week she was thrilled. But fifteen thousand?

  “Too little?” Helen asked in a somewhat catty tone.

  “Oh, no, no. That’s fine, just fine.”

  “Then if there’s nothing else,” Richard said.

  “Well, there is one other thing.” Nikki hated to push her luck, but it seemed to be part of her nature. “Would it be okay if I met Maxwell?”

  Richard quickly looked at Helen who spoke up rather hastily. “Actually, dear, Maxwell is probably napping. He had a rather hectic morning and was completely exhausted. I’m really not sure if he’s awakened yet.”

  Something about the tone of Helen’s voice and the way she and Richard looked at one another made alarm bells go off in Nikki’s head.

  “Well, maybe he’s ready to get up. And I really think it’d be better if we met. That way if he hates me on sight or something, I don’t have to waste any more of your time.”

  Helen and Richard shared another look and Richard nodded. Helen picked up the phone and punched in two numbers. She was silent for a long time. Nikki looked at Richard who smiled in what seemed a forced manner. Finally, Helen spoke into the phone. “Maxwell, please join us in my sitting room immediately.”

  She hung up the phone and smiled somewhat coldly at Nikki. When five minutes had passed, with the three of them making idle comments about the weather and such, Richard stood.

  “Nikki, would you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  Richard escorted Helen from the room. Nikki watched them leave. As soon as they were gone, she slumped back in her chair and let out a long breath. She felt like she’d been holding it forever. Something was quite odd about the Westons. Maybe Gaspar was right. Then again, maybe not. If the Westons really did have the Stones or the housing device stashed somewhere, it would be next to impossible to find it. The house was enormous and chances were, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to explore it freely.

  But then again, they were willing to pay a thousand dollars a week plus a bonus of fifteen thousand at the end of the summer. With her current situation, she’d be a fool to pass it up.

  After cutting a look at the door, she got up and wandered around the room. It was filled with very expensive artwork and the windows overlooked a beautiful garden. She wakled over to the window, looked outside then continued around the room, peaking behind pictures on the walls to see if there were hidden safes and checking the fireplace and mantle for anything that would resemble a hidden mechanism for a secret compartment.

  She felt a little foolish and told herself to not get too caught up in the secret-agent role. She also couldn’t help wondering what could be so unusual about the child that made the Westons so reluctant for people to meet him.

  As Richard and Helen made their way down the hall, Maxwell hurried across the arboretum and to the door of his mother’s sitting room. He knew they were interviewing another prospective “warden” for him and he wanted to get a look at the candidate without his parents being present.

  Since the last drone quit, they’d been rather frantic about finding a
replacement. Maxwell was accustomed to the succession of companions his parents hired to watch him, but he’d never seen them quite so urgent in their efforts before. He wasn’t sure what their motivation was, but it was definitely out of the ordinary.

  He made a mental note that he needed to upgrade his surveillance of his parents. Apparently, he wasn’t getting enough intelligence on what was going on because he’d been unable to discover what the sudden flurry of activity to hire someone was really about.

  He peeked inside the sitting room and saw Nikki standing by the window. She didn’t hear him when he slid inside and leaned against the doorframe to watch her.

  She was pretty, at least from what he could see. Her long hair was loose, hanging in a shining wave down her back, the light dancing on the silky strands like gems twinkling. Her skin was a little dark, like she had mixed blood—Indian or Middle Eastern, perhaps. And her figure was definitely appealing. The way her jeans clung to her displayed her shape nicely.

  Maxwell was intrigued but also confused. Surely this couldn’t be someone interviewing for the job. Helen and Richard would never hire someone so young and pretty. Who could she be? A neighbor who’d just moved into the area? No, her clothes weren’t expensive enough. The daughter of a friend? No, there again, the clothes were too cheap. How about someone who worked for his father? No, Richard never invited underlings to the estate.

  Suddenly Nikki turned and saw him. Maxwell got his first good look at her face, and it was like time had come to a screeching halt. She wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful. And a beauty that was intimately familiar.

  Nikki felt a powerful jolt when she turned and saw the man leaning against the doorframe. In the space of a heartbeat, she was completely oblivious to everything else around her. Every sense tuned completely on him. Here was the face of her dreams.

  Their eyes met and something she could not identify, something that affected every nerve ending in her body, took hold of her. It was as if for a moment, the laws of the universe were suddenly in flux and she along with them.