Page 3

Chapter three

Hazel James

It’s been three years since I last interviewed for a position. If my interview with Mikayla could even qualify as one. I had a few classes with her cousin in my final year of college, and he recommended me for the job. Then, when I arrived for the interview, Mikayla said she had a gut feeling I was the one right after she hugged me in greeting. We were strangers, but by the time the ‘interview’ was over, it felt like I’d known her for years.

So, I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing. I called Mikayla last night in a panic with half of my closet stacked on my bed because I didn’t know what to wear. I might have slept on a pile of laundry last night. I ended up choosing jeans and a pink top with ruffle accents. But now that I’m pulling up to a castle-like mansion, I’m wondering if I should have gone with the pencil skirt Mikayla said was ‘too formal.’

I climb out of my red Mini Cooper and tip my head back to take in the glory of the Foster home. The Lawsons’ house was lavish, but this place is on another level. It looks like a castle was shipped from England to Tennessee. The house is made entirely of pale gray bricks, with multiple turrets and a set of towering double doors at the top of a stone staircase. Behind me is a large stone fountain at the center of the circular driveway I parked in. The landscaping is impeccable, complete with crawling ivy that makes the estate look lived in.

I adjust the strap on my leather crossbody bag, then slowly make my way toward the stairs. My stomach tightens with nerves. I’m not terrible around people, but I am more introverted than extroverted. Suddenly I wish I would have taken Mikayla up on more of her countless invites to parties with the rich and famous of Nashville. Maybe I would have more experience talking to people who live in castles.

I search for a doorbell but don’t find one. The only way to alert anyone of my presence is to knock with my fist or use one of the large brass rings in the center of the door. I shrug, then reach up and lift the even-heavier-than-it-looks door knocker. It hits the door with a loud thud that makes me jump.

My heart picks up speed in my chest as I wait. Just as I’m about to try the knocker again, the door opens.

“These doors are ridiculous,” a woman huffs.

Slowly, a figure appears in the gap. An older woman with blonde hair and kind brown eyes tugs on the door with a frown. “I should have told you to come in through the garage. No one uses this entrance on account of how heavy these doors are.” I smile as she smooths out her short hair and then the pink gingham dress she’s wearing.

“Are you Mrs. Foster?” I ask, and she returns my smile with a bright one of her own.

“I am, but please, call me Bonnie. And you must be Hazel.”

“That’s me.” I stick out my hand to shake hers. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She takes my hand, squeezing it and patting it with the other instead of a regular handshake. “The pleasure is all mine. Why don’t you get out of this heat and we can talk inside over some sweet tea?”

I let out a small–hopefully too quiet for her to hear–sigh of relief. Bonnie seems really nice and welcoming. While sweet tea isn’t the same as matcha, it’s a gesture of goodwill here in the south that shows me I’m on the right track. I hope I can stay on it.

“How was your drive?” she asks. “I hope you didn’t get lost. I know we’re a bit out of the way.” Bonnie leads me through the foyer, beneath a sparkling chandelier, and into the kitchen.

“The directions you gave worked out great. Plus, it would be hard to miss a house like this.”

I turn my head to the left and right as we walk, taking in the beautiful Renaissance-style artwork on the walls and the lovely flower arrangement in the center of the kitchen island.

“I told Emmett when he showed me the blueprints that it was too much for a small family, but he insisted that June have the very best.”

“He must really love her.”

Oh, to have a man who would have your dream home built because he loved you.

“That little girl is his whole world.”

Bonnie pulls out a pitcher of tea.

I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, I was mistaken. I thought that you were referring to his wife June.”

Bonnie stiffens for a brief moment, then regains her composure. “Emmett is divorced. It’s just him and June. Well, my husband Edmond and I share the property too. We have a house a couple acres behind this one.”

I wince at my mishap. I knew I should have Googled Emmett before coming. I was worried it would have made me more nervous. And it would have, because the idea of working for a single dad is a lot different. I’m used to my closest relationship being with Mikayla. I don’t know what it will be like to not have that.

I accept a glass of tea and follow Bonnie past the formal dining room into the living room, which features a more modern sectional. It’s a rich cream color that somehow manages to fit in with the rest of the old-world decorating style instead of sticking out like a sore thumb.

“June’s mother is not in the picture,” Bonnie explains before I can gather a response. “That’s why we need you. Edmond and I are going to Europe soon, and Emmett needs someone to take care of June while he’s traveling and practicing.”

She sits on the sectional and I sit a cushion away from her, tucking a leg underneath me so I can face her when she does the same.

“You must be excited to go to Europe,” I comment, hoping that I don’t sound awkward. While I’m happy with how casual things are, it feels odd not having a formal structure.

Bonnie grins. “I am. I’ve never been, and really haven’t traveled much at all. But now that I’m getting older, I want to see the world before I die.” She takes a sip of her tea. “I’ve got everything planned out and ready to go. The only thing left is to make sure my little June-bug is in good hands.”

“I think I’d be a great fit. I’m used to the chaos of sports schedules, and I took care of twin girls from age three to six. I’ve done overnight stays, and since I have my education degree, I’m able to help with schoolwork. I even taught the twins at home instead of them going to preschool.”

She nods in what I hope is approval. “I reached out to the Lawsons before you came, and Mikayla highly recommended you. My main concern is that your schedule before–while certainly hectic–is lenient compared to the chaos of baseball season combined with the lack of a second parent in the home. Would you be willing to work longer hours?”

I consider her words. What she’s saying makes sense. My knowledge of baseball is limited, but I know from my dad that teams play over a hundred games a season. With Emmett being a single dad, I’m sure he’ll need a lot more support. Lucky for him, my closest friend just moved to another state and my social life is abysmal outside of checking in on my sister who’s busy with high school.

“I have the time to give right now. I can manage longer hours,” I answer.

“Would you be willing to travel? Emmett would completely cover your cost of hotels and transportation. Sometimes he likes for June to come with him to games if they align with her school schedule or fall on the weekend.”

I smile at the thought. He must be a sweet dad to bring her along.

“I’m totally fine with traveling. I’d love to take June to the games.”

“Well, you seem perfect for the job. I am curious, though. Why did you become a nanny instead of a teacher after you graduated college?”

The question isn’t unusual. Many of my family members have asked the same thing, though in not so kind a tone.

“I did some student teaching in school to gain classroom experience, and found that what I loved most was working one-on-one with the kids,” I say, then take a sip of my tea. “You don’t get to do that much in classes of fifteen to twenty kids. So, I told my friends that I wanted to either go into private tutoring or nannying. One of those friends was Mikayla’s cousin, and the rest became history.”

“And I presume that, since you’re wanting this position, you aren’t married or in a serious relationship. Why is that?”

I cough on my drink, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you chosen to stay single?” She rephrases her question.

My grandma tends to be the one asking about this topic. She wants great-grandkids almost as much as I want kids. I’m not used to a stranger asking, though.

I clear my throat. “I wouldn’t say I’ve chosen to stay single,” I answer carefully.

“So you go on dates?”

I want to ask what this has to do with the interview, but I’m not one for confrontation, so I just stutter out, “Sometimes, yes.”

“Do you want to be married? Have kids?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am, that’s one of my greatest desires in life.”

She gives me a warm smile. “You’re looking for the one .”

“I suppose I am,” I say and tuck my hair behind my ear.

Bonnie sets her glass on the coffee table, then slaps her hands on her knees. “I believe I’ve gotten all the information I need. I will talk to my son and be in touch.”

I blink in surprise. That wasn’t what I’d consider a smooth transition.

“Thank you. I-I hope to hear back from you.”

I stand when she does.

“I’m sure you will. Emmett can be a stubborn man, but he knows I know best, so he values my opinion.”

That’s…not promising. I’ll be working for Emmett , not her. I’d like for him to want me here. But I guess if he trusts his mom enough to conduct the interviews, then he shouldn’t question her judgment.

“Okay, that sounds good,” I say because I can’t think of anything else. “Thank you for the tea.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’. I’ll show you out through the garage. No need to wrestle with the door again.”

Bonnie leads me out of the house, and once more I find myself staring up at the castle I hope to soon work in. It’s only when I get in my car that I realize we didn’t once discuss salary. I’m not sure what normal interviews are like, but I have a distinct feeling that was not one. Which leads me to believe this position will be far from normal as well.