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I slide my thumb across the screen to answer and press the phone to my ear. “Is everything okay?”
Susan’s slightly nasal voice sounds through the earpiece. “Your father took a little tumble. I’ve given him some painkillers, and he seems okay, but I thought I should let you know—in case you were planning to take your time getting home.”
My hand tightens around the phone. She knows I don’t go gallivanting around the city for no reason. My social life has been mostly on hold since Dad’s condition worsened a couple of years ago. But I need her help, so rather than snap back, I keep my tone even.
“Okay, thank you for letting me know. Do you mind staying with him until I get home? I won’t be too much longer.”
She begrudgingly agrees, and with my stomach in knots, I hang up. It’s not Dad’s fault, but the timing of his fall couldn’t have been worse. There’s no way I’ll get this job now. Not after Lena’s comment about focus earlier.
I slip my phone back into my purse and give her an apologetic smile.
“Kids?” she asks, her tone laced with a thread of sympathy I wasn’t expecting.
“My father, actually.” I let out a sigh. “He has rheumatoid arthritis, and he fell.”
“You live at home with him?”
“Yes, I moved in a couple of years ago to help out.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry again for the interruption, and I understand if I’ve wasted your ti?—”
She holds up a hand. “Not so fast. You have someone depending on you at home. That’s understandable, and I’ve been there.”
“I appreciate that, but I assume the situation isn’t ideal.”
She shrugs. “No situation is ideal, and we all have people who rely on us—children, parents, even employees. To be honest, knowing you’ve stepped up to help your dad makes me like you even more.”
The knots in my stomach loosen a little.
“I do need to ask, though. Does this kind of thing happen frequently? Is it likely you’ll need to leave the office often in the middle of the workday?”
“No. Normally he’s very careful. This is only the second time he’s fallen since I moved in.”
“Okay.” She looks down at the notes in front of her. “You’re young. Probably younger than we’d normally consider for an executive assistant position. But your college transcript is impressive, the HR department from your last job gave you a glowing reference, and you’re caring for your father. All of that tells me you’re dedicated, hard-working, and, in my opinion”—she gives me a wry smile—“you have your priorities straight. Which is more than I can say forsomepeople in this building.”
The quirk of her lips makes me wonder if she’s talking about her boss.
She tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “I like you for this position, Chloe. I think you might be a much-needed breath of fresh air in the office. But if you get the job, you may have to work longer hours than you’re used to. With the responsibilities you have, would you be comfortable doing that?”
My mind whirrs, working overtime to weigh the intricacies of the situation. This job might have longer hours, but the pay is significantly better than what I made at Talon. If I get the position, I can afford Dad’s medication—and maybe even some of the more advanced treatments, which might help improve his independence. That has to be worth asking Susan to help out a little more often, even if she does annoy him. And I know she’ll be happy to take the extra money.
“I’m comfortable. I have a care arrangement in place, which should be able to accommodate early starts or staying late when needed.”
She smiles. “Okay. I have a couple more interviews to do this afternoon, so, I’ll let you know my decision at the end of the day or early tomorrow.”
“Of course, that’s fine.”
I’m feeling buoyed as I descend the steps outside King Plaza a few minutes later. This could be the break we need. But remembering Susan’s call, I pick up my pace. With his joints as stiff and painful as they are, a fall can take quite a toll on Dad.
Luckily, when I get home, his crotchety mood and Susan’s general irritation tell me everything’s okay. As I walk her to the door, I broach the subject of possibly working longer hours.
She grumbles a little but eventually agrees when I reassure her that she’ll be compensated appropriately. She’s retired and at home most of the day anyway. When she’s not checking in on Dad, she’s usually sitting by the window, indulging in her role as the unofficial neighborhood watch. At least this keeps her busy and helps break up her days.
After she’s gone, I fuss over Dad, making sure he’s comfortable. When I notice that his knee is puffy and warm to the touch, I grab a fresh icepack from the freezer and gently place it over the swollen joint. I make lunch, then sit on the end of the couch closest to his chair and tell him about the interview.
When I mention my brief exchange with my potential new boss, he frowns. “Are you sure you’d be okay working for someone like that?”
“Of course,” I reassure him. “No matter how driven and focused he might be, I’m sure he won’t be unreasonable. Lena’s worked for him for several years, and she seemed lovely.”
Dad doesn’t look convinced but nods anyway. “Okay, love, let’s keep our fingers crossed that you get the job, then.”