by Thea Dawson
She stood on the flagstone front porch under the wide portico, her heart racing as if she were about to go on stage. It wasn’t until Richard greeted her at the door that she realized how much she’d been braced for another hostile encounter. But his smile was pleasant and he even greeted the kids politely before ushering them into the house.
They’d barely crossed the threshold when Peyton appeared to whisk Lily away upstairs. At Peyton’s behest, Rosie was convinced to go with them. Lily rolled her eyes but didn’t object, and the three girls disappeared upstairs.
Celia took the opportunity to glance around the living room, taking in the tastefully coordinated rugs, drapes and upholstery and the overstuffed sofa and armchairs in front of the large fireplace. Not a scuff, stray toy, or crayon mark to be seen. She shuddered a little at the thought of the damage her own children could do to a room like this, but before she could dwell on it, she and Rowan were following Richard into the kitchen.
It was spotlessly clean; no surprise there. The walls were a warm ochre outlined in stenciled grape vines. The appliances were all shiny aluminum and the floors were a warm, honey-colored wood. Almost immediately, she spotted a Vitamix blender on the far counter (granite, by the look of it). She’s always wanted one but could never have justified the cost; she promised herself that if she got the job, she’d try it out.
The house, the decor, the appliances ... it must have all cost a fortune, she thought. Comfortable Class all the way. She slid into a seat at the large maple table in front of a sliding glass door, Rowan on her lap, as Richard sat down across from her. Celia tried to study him without being obvious about it. He was, if anything, even more attractive than he had been at the school festival; mainly, Celia thought, because he seemed more relaxed. He wasn’t frowning, and he seemed less stiff than he had then. He was dressed casually in jeans and a fleece hoodie, but even casual clothes looked expensive on him.
Probably because they were. Richard did not seem like the type who shopped at Walmart.
“And how old is this little guy?” Richard smiled at Rowan.
“He’ll be one in February,” she answered. The thought of Rowan’s birthday sent an odd combination of emotions through her. Rowan had been only a few weeks old when Brad had died, so his birthday meant that the anniversary of Brad’s death was also coming up.
“Hey, buddy, can we shake hands?” Richard reached out to take one of Rowan’s chubby hands in his. Rowan smiled then hid his face against Celia’s chest before looking back to see if he had Richard’s attention.
Richard laughed, a warm, baritone sound, and Celia smiled. “I think he likes you,” she said.
“I like him, too,” he replied. “Now, how about you? Can I get you some coffee? Tea?” he asked.
Celia shook her head. “I’m good, thank you.” She looked through the sliding glass doors out onto a flagstone-paved patio that surrounded a swimming pool that was covered for the winter. An elaborate play structure was set on the grass a little distance away. Even under the dull grey sky and dusted with the half-hearted snow that had fallen the night before, the beautifully landscaped garden was attractive. “What a lovely backyard.”
Richard nodded, looking, Celia thought, a little distracted. “Thanks. Not at its best right now, but it’s really nice in the summer. Maybe when it gets warmer, you all can bring your bathing suits and go swimming.”
Celia smiled again. This was good; he was talking like the job was a done deal. “We’d like that,” she replied.
Richard took a deep breath. For the first time, it occurred to Celia that he might be nervous as well. “Well,” he said, “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”
“Here. I brought a resumé.” Celia fished the envelope out of her tote bag. “It’s got contact information for a bunch of people I’ve worked for in case you want to check references.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, picking up the envelope that she slid over to him but not opening it.
“Besides that, let’s see. You know I have three kids. I’m from the Seattle suburbs originally, came to Silverweed for college. I never thought I’d stay, but I met my husband and ended up getting married and having kids and buying a house, so now I guess I’m stuck here.” She laughed a little but she knew was in danger of rambling and tried to rein herself in. “So ... well, you know my husband was killed in a car accident last March. I’m taking some classes, and I work part-time at the Co-op grocery store, which is great because they let me bring the kids. It’s been hard to find something that pays well enough to justify paying someone else to look after them. You know how it goes.” She shrugged.
He smiled politely back.
Of course he doesn’t know, she thought. He can’t even imagine. “So, anyway, um ...”
“Okay.” Richard nodded decisively. Maybe he just wanted her to shut up, she thought; her face got a bit warm. “Well, maybe we can help each other out. For the past year and a half, we’ve had a student from the university who’s been looking after Peyton in the afternoons. Angel. But she had enough credits to graduate early, and she’s going back to Eugene to look for a job. We’re good over the holidays, we’ll be going down to Bend to visit my parents, but once school starts again, we’re stuck. So if you could step in, it would be an enormous help.”
Celia nodded and tried not to sound too eager. “Yes, that would be great.”
“It’s just four days a week. On Wednesday afternoons, I supervise the Young Engineers Club at school, and I can take Peyton home myself.”
Young Engineers was one of several after-school activities that parent volunteers offered at the Academy. It had been on the fringes of Celia’s awareness at the beginning of the school year, but Lily hadn’t shown much interest in it and Celia had forgotten about it.
“Oh, it’s nice that you do that,” she said conversationally.
If he heard her, he gave no indication and simply continued with the interview. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“No, not at all.”
“Do you know CPR?”
It wasn’t a question she’d anticipated but fortunately she had an answer. “Yes,” she said, feeling as if she were on firm ground again. “I was a lifeguard in high school and college. It’s been a while since I was certified, but I know what to do.”
“Oh, that’s excellent,” he said, looking pleasantly surprised. “I do worry about the pool,” he confided. “Peyton’s not a bad swimmer for her age, but you just never know. And that reminds me, please be careful with your little ones. The pool has one of those covers that you can walk across, so it should be safe for them to play outside, but of course, once it gets warmer, we’ll open it up again.”
Celia nodded. “Of course,” she murmured but her thoughts had raced ahead to the spring. It sounded as if he expected her to still be working there. Another good sign.
“Been in any car accidents?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Clean record except for a couple of parking tickets.”
“Hm, let’s see. Before you had kids, were you working?”
Celia nodded. “Yes. My old supervisor’s contact information is on the resume if you want to talk to her. I used to administer a grant for the department of foreign languages, but once the grant period was over, the job ended, and I was pregnant with Rosie anyway and decided I wanted to try being a stay-at-home mom for a while, so ...” She stopped herself before she could start rambling again. It was technically the truth, but she was putting such a rosy spin on it that it felt like a lie.
It had all made sense at the time, of course; her salary would barely have covered childcare costs, and Brad had been adamant—wrongly, she’d found out later—that he could provide well for the whole family. But she had also dreaded the process of searching for a new job, had been exhausted from trying to work and look after the house, had felt a pang of guilt every time she dropped a still-sleepy Lily off at the before-care program at school. Being able to stay home with her f
amily had seemed like a luxury.
Too late, she’d realized it was a trap.
“Being a mom is the most important job in the world,” he assured her cheerfully.
“You’d think it would pay better,” she replied drily.
His brow furrowed as if he didn’t know how to take her remark. “Do you mind if I ask what you did your bachelor’s in?” he asked.
“Studio art. Not the most practical degree, I’m afraid.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. He nodded, apparently too polite to agree with her out loud. “That reminds me—I’m taking a graphic design class on Monday nights next semester. It starts at six, so I won’t be able to stay any later than 5:30 on Mondays.”
“That should be fine,” he assured her, not sounding terribly interested. There was a brief pause, then, “So, any questions for me?” he asked.
She racked her brain, trying to think of something to ask that would make her sound intelligent and responsible, but really, the job wasn’t rocket science. Before she’d had a chance to think it through, the question she really wanted to ask was falling out of her mouth. “What’s—” She stopped herself from saying, What’s the deal with your ex-wife? “Do you have sole custody of Peyton? I mean, does your— I mean, her mother, does she want to meet me, or ...?”
He leaned back slightly in his chair and Celia could almost see a wall of guardedness drop between them. “Good question. I don’t think it’ll be much of an issue.” His voice dropped and he leaned forward slightly again. Celia felt the wall dissolve slightly as he took her into his confidence. “To be perfectly honest, she’s hardly shown any interest in Peyton since she left. She’s moved up to Portland, and she’s made it pretty clear she won’t be moving back here. Basically, she has Peyton up to her place every so often for a weekend, takes her shopping, sends her home, and ignores her for another three months.”
“I’m sorry,” murmured Celia.
He acknowledged her sympathy with a curt nod. “Of course, I’ll tell her about you and make sure you have each other’s contact information and so forth, but I doubt you’ll deal with her at all.” He looked as though he wanted to say something else but he stopped.
Another pause, this one stretching out a shade too long. They both started to speak at once.
“Sorry.” Celia felt a blush creeping across her cheeks.
“No, no. Go ahead,” he replied.
Awkward. She hadn’t really had anything to say. She took a deep breath, stalling for time. “Maybe you could show me around the house a bit?” she suggested.
“Good idea.” He stood up abruptly, looking rather relieved. She stood up too, shifting Rowan’s weight.
Richard led her quickly through the house, giving disjointed instructions as they went. He showed her the back door which opened into a small mudroom next to the kitchen. “This is probably the easiest place for you to come in.” There was a playroom off one end of the kitchen, and a formal dining room that also enjoyed a glass door and view of the patio off the other. “No food outside the kitchen and no TV on school nights. Peyton likes to do homework in the living room, but otherwise, try to keep her to her room, the kitchen, or the play area.”
Richard led her up a rather grand staircase that lead to an immaculate upstairs. They passed the master bedroom, and Celia got a quick glance of a king-sized bed and a dark wooden chest of drawers. Then there was a guest room, a laundry room, and a study. Finally, they reached Peyton’s room, with an elaborate bunk bed, coordinated bed linens and curtains, and an abundance of toys neatly arranged on shelves.
So tidy. Celia had been hoping that Peyton’s room at least would be one she could feel at home in. She prayed she and her children wouldn’t leave this house messier than they’d found it.
Lily and Peyton were sitting on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of pieces of Lego, the only sign of disorder in the entire house. Peyton looked up at her father.
“We’re building a farm. Look, that’s where they keep the horses, and this is the fence, and the chickens live in this building—”
Lily interrupted. “Mom, can I take horseback riding lessons? Peyton does, and she says it’s lots of fun.”
Celia blanched. Riding lessons weren’t cheap. “We’ll see—”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Richard said. “Peyton has riding lessons on Tuesdays right after school, so I’ll need you to take her there. It’s out on the west edge of town, so it’s probably easier for you to stay rather than come back and go out again. The lesson’s forty-five minutes ...” He looked mildly apologetic. “I’ll pay you, of course, for the time you have to spend there, but it might be a bit of a bore for your kids.”
Celia caught the frown on Lily’s face. Lily understood. Forty-five minutes of waiting around, doing nothing, being the poor kid, while her friend did something fun and exciting.
“Please, Mom?” Lily asked.
“We’ll see, sweetheart.” She turned back to Richard. “Any other after-school activities?”
He shook his head. “She has ballet on Thursday evenings at six, but I should be home in time to get her to that. In the spring, she does soccer, but that’ll be evenings and weekends, so you’re off the hook there. Why don’t we go downstairs again?”
She followed him downstairs after a quick suggestion to Lily to help clean up as they’d be leaving soon. Lily, uncharacteristically obedient, began shoveling Legos back into the box.
“We don’t have to clean it all up yet.”
Celia could hear Peyton’s wistful voice as she followed Richard down the stairway. Peyton struck her as a bit lonely and she hated to end the playdate. Still, they’d be seeing plenty of each other soon. She hoped. The job wasn’t a done deal yet.
They reached the kitchen again. Richard turned to her just as Rowan buried a sticky fist in her hair and pulled hard.
“Ow! Honey, don’t do that—” She tried to keep her voice level.
“Well, what do you think? $150 a week? I think you’d be great for the job, you—” he watched her trying to disentangle herself from Rowan “--you obviously have experience with kids, and you’d be doing me a big favor ...” His voice trailed off and he looked at her appealingly.
“I’d love to,” she answered, finally separating her hair from Rowan’s tentacles. “But I was thinking more like $200 a week.”
He looked surprised. “That’s actually a bit more than I was paying Angel—”
Celia felt almost as surprised as he looked. She hadn’t really intended to negotiate, but the combination of being put on the spot about riding lessons and being asked to commit to the job while having her hair pulled out had brought out her ornery side. She knew she’d regret it later if she didn’t get the job, but at that moment, it seemed like a worthwhile risk.
“True, but I’ve got more experience in being a mom,” she said evenly. “Plus my schedule is pretty flexible, so you can consider me on call if Peyton has to go home sick or if you need help on the weekend.”
He contemplated her for a moment. “Actually, that could be useful,” he said, almost to himself.
He smiled, a big, genuine smile this time. Celia felt a bit badly for her snappish response. He seemed so nice, now, nothing like the arrogant man she’d met at the holiday party. And his smile made her aware all over again of how attractive he was.
“And I have to admire a woman who can negotiate while she’s having her hair pulled out.” He chuckled. “Okay, then. $200 a week. Starting the first school day after the break. I’ll make sure the school knows you’ll be picking her up, and I’ll send Peyton to school with a spare key for you. Before you go, I’ll show you how to turn off the alarm system and get into the house.”
“Fantastic,” Celia’s smile was warm and real this time. Their eyes met as they shook hands and Celia was struck by the feeling of his skin against hers. She put just a little extra firmness into her grip. “I think this will work out beautifully!”
5
Richard sat at the kit
chen table after Celia had gone, sipping his third cup of coffee of the morning and looking pensively out over the patio. Across from him, Peyton was absorbed in a picture she was drawing.
The interview had made him more nervous than he should have been, considering that it was him in the decision-making seat. Even now, almost an hour later, he found himself second guessing everything he’d said. Had she been offended by his remark about motherhood being the most important job in the world? In retrospect, that had probably sounded pretty condescending, especially since she was clearly struggling to make ends meet.
He’d been trying, in his own way, to make up for his rudeness on the night they’d met, but he wasn’t sure he’d done a great job. Should he have smiled more, socialized more, shown more interest in her or her children? He didn’t have a blueprint for this kind of interaction, and he was not good at improvising.
He found her disconcerting. For a man who prided himself on his ability to analyze and draw conclusions, it was unsettling to realize that he wasn’t sure why. Possibly because it felt odd to be hiring Celia, who was an adult and a fellow Academy parent—a peer, really—while Angel, as an undergraduate student half his age was more his idea of a typical babysitter.
But perhaps it was those disconcerting navy blue eyes of Celia’s that had made him feel slightly off-balance.
He frowned slightly. That was ridiculous. Celia was attractive, certainly—she had a lovely face, a nice figure and a wonderful smile—but she was not his type at all. She was sweet and bright, and obviously hard-working, but he’d always been drawn to more ambitious women, women like Melanie, who were as driven as he was.
Then again, it was Melanie’s ambition that had driven her away from her family and into the arms of another man. Maybe his attraction to Celia was some kind of reaction, a rebound—compounded by the fact that it had been almost two years since he’d last been intimate with Melanie. That was probably it. It was normal to be attracted to a woman as pretty as Celia, especially when she had the added appeal of being a little different. No doubt the novelty would wear off soon, and he’d feel more comfortable around her.