Читать книгу Small-Town Nanny - Lee Tobin McClain - Страница 10
ОглавлениеSam Hinton was about to conclude one of the biggest business deals of his career. And get home in time to read his five-year-old daughter her bedtime story.
He’d finally gotten the hang of being a single dad who happened to run a multimillion-dollar business.
Feeling almost relaxed for the first time since his wife’s death two years ago, Sam surveyed the only upscale restaurant in his small hometown of Rescue River, Ohio, with satisfaction. He’d helped finance this place just to have an appropriate spot to bring important clients, and it was bustling. He recognized his former high school science teacher coming through the door. There was town matriarch Miss Minnie Falcon calling for her check in her stern, Sunday-school-teacher voice. At a table by the window, one of the local farmers laughed with his teenage kids at what looked to be a graduation dinner.
And who was that new, petite, dark-haired waitress? Was it his sister’s friend Susan Hayashi?
Sam tore his eyes away from the pretty server and checked his watch, wondering how long a visit to the men’s room could take his client. The guy must be either checking with his board of directors or playing some kind of game with Sam—seeming to back off, hoping to drag down the price of the agricultural property he was buying just a little bit more before he signed on the dotted line. Fine. Sam would give a little if it made his client’s inner tightwad happy.
Crash!
“Leave her alone! Hands off!” The waitress he’d noticed, his sister’s friend Susan, left the tray and food where she’d dropped them and stormed across the dining room toward his client.
Who stood leering beside another, very young-looking, waitress. “Whoa, hel-lo, baby!” his client said to Susan as she approached. “Don’t get jealous. I’m man enough for both of you ladies!”
“Back off!”
Sam shoved out of his chair and headed toward the altercation. Around him, people were murmuring with concern or interest.
“It’s okay, Susan,” the teenage waitress was saying to his sister’s friend. “He d-d-didn’t really hurt me.”
Stepping protectively in front of the round-faced teenager, Susan pointed a delicate finger at his client. “You apologize to her,” she ordered, poking the much larger, much older businessman in the chest with each word. She wore the same dark skirt and white blouse as all the other wait staff, but her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones made her stand out almost as much as her stiff posture and flaring nostrils. Three or four gold hoops quivered in each ear.
“Keep your hands off me.” Sam’s client sneered down at Susan. “Where’s the owner of this place? I don’t have to put up with anything from a...” He lowered his voice, but whatever he said made the color rise in Susan’s face.
Sam clapped a hand on his client’s shoulder. He hadn’t pegged the guy as this much of a troublemaker, but then, he barely knew him. “Come on. Leave the ladies alone.”
The other man glanced at Sam and changed his tone. “Aw, hey, I was just trying to have a good time.” He gave Susan another dirty look. “Some girls can’t take a joke.”
“Some jokes aren’t funny, mister.” She glared at him, two high spots of color staining her cheeks pink.
The restaurant manager rushed up behind them. “We can work this out. Mr. Hinton, I do apologize. You girls...” He clapped his hands at the two waitresses. “My office. Now.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble!” Crying, the teenage waitress hurried toward the office at the back of the restaurant.
Susan touched the manager’s arm. “Don’t get mad at Tawny. I’m the one who got in Prince Charming’s face.” She jerked her head sideways toward Sam’s client.
The restaurant manager frowned and ushered Susan to his office.
Sam’s client shrugged and gave Sam a conspiratorial grin as he turned toward their table. “Ready to get back to business?”
“No,” Sam said, frowning after the restaurant manager and Susan. “We’re done here.”
“What?” His client’s voice rose to a squeak.
“I’ll see you to your car. I want you out of Rescue River.”
Ten minutes later, after he’d banished his would-be client, settled the bill and fixed things with the restaurant manager, Sam strode out to the parking lot.
There was Susan, standing beside an ancient, rusty subcompact, staring across the moonlit fields that circled the town of Rescue River. He’d only met her a couple of times; unfortunately, he worked too much to get to know his sister’s friends.
“Hey, Susan,” he called as he approached. “I got you your job back.”
She half turned and arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you did, did you? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Really?” He stopped a few yards away from her. Although he hadn’t expected gratitude, exactly, the complete dismissal surprised him.
“Really.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against her car. “I don’t need favors from anyone.”
“It’s not a favor, it’s just...fairness.”
“It’s a favor, and I don’t want it. You think I can go back in there and earn tips after the scene I just made?”
“You probably could.” Not only was she attractive, but she appeared to be very competent, if a little on the touchy side. “Rescue River doesn’t take kindly to men being jerks. Most of the people in that room were squarely on your side.”
“Wait a minute.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Now I get it. You’re part owner of the place.”
“I’m a silent partner, yes.” He cocked his head to one side, wondering where this was going.
“You’re trying to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit, aren’t you?”
His jaw dropped. “Really? You think that’s why...” He trailed off, rubbed the heavy stubble on his chin, and thought of his daughter, waiting for him at home. “Look, if you don’t want the job back, that’s fine. And if you think you have a harassment case, go for it.”
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t me your buddy was groping, and I’m not the lawsuit type.” She sighed. “Probably not the waitress type either, like Max said when he was firing me.”
Sam felt one side of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he recognized the truth of that statement. He found Susan to be extremely cute, with her long, silky hair, slender figure and vaguely Asian features, but she definitely wasn’t the eager-to-please type.
Wasn’t his type, not that it mattered. He preferred soft-spoken women, domestic ladies who wore makeup and perfume and knew how to nurture a man. Archaic, but there it was.
Just then, the teenage waitress came rushing out through the kitchen door. “Susan, you didn’t have to do that! Max said he fired you. I’m sorry!”
“No big deal.” She shrugged again, the movement a little stiff.
“But I thought you needed the money to send your brother to that special camp—”
“It’s fine.” Susan’s voice wobbled the tiniest bit, or was he imagining it? “Just, well, don’t let guys do that kind of stuff to you.”
“I know, I know, but I didn’t want to get in trouble. Especially with Mr. Hinton on the premises...” The girl trailed off, realizing for the first time that Sam stood to one side, listening to every word. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there! Don’t be mad at her, Mr. Hinton. She was just trying to help me!”
Susan patted her on the shoulder. “Go back inside and remember, just step on a guy’s foot—hard—if he tries anything. You can always claim it was an accident.”
“That’s a great idea! You’re totally awesome!” The younger woman gave Susan a quick hug and then trotted back into the restaurant.
Susan let her elbows drop to the hood of her car and rested her chin in her hands. “Was I ever that young?”
“Don’t talk like you’re ancient. What are you, twenty-five, twenty-six?” Susan was relatively new in town, and if memory served, she was a teacher at the elementary school. Apparently waitressing on the side. Sam assumed she was about his sister Daisy’s age, since they’d fast become thick as thieves.
“Good guess, Mr. Hinton. You didn’t even need your bifocals to figure that out. I’m twenty-five.”
Okay, at thirty-seven he was a lot older than she was, but her jibe stung. Maybe because he knew very well that he wasn’t getting any younger and that he needed to get cracking on his next major life goal.
Which would involve someone a lot softer and gentler than Susan Hayashi. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about what happened. You should know that guy who caused the trouble is headed back toward the east coast even as we speak. And he’s not my friend, by the way. Just a client. Former client, now.”
She arched a delicate brow. “My knight in shining armor, are you?”
What was there to say to a woman who misinterpreted his every move? He shook his head, reached out to pat her shoulder, then decided it wasn’t a good idea and pulled his hand back. If he touched her, she might report him. Or throw a punch.
Definitely a woman to steer clear of.
There didn’t seem to be any sweetness in her. So it surprised Sam when, as he bid her goodnight, he caught a whiff of honeysuckle perfume.
* * *
The next day, even though she wanted to pull the covers over her head and cry, Susan forced herself to climb out of bed early. She’d committed to spend her Saturday morning helping at the church’s food pantry, and honestly, even that might not have gotten her out of bed, but she knew her best friend, Daisy, was going to be there.
“Come on,” Daisy said when Susan dragged herself down the steps and into the church basement, “we’re doing produce. Hey, did you really get fired last night?”
Embarrassment heated Susan’s face as she followed her friend to an out-of-the-way corner where bins of spinach and lettuce donated by local farmers stood ready to be divided into smaller bunches. “Yeah. How’d you hear?”
“That sweet little Tawny Thompson spread it all over town, how you rescued her from some creepy businessman. What were you thinking?”
“He practically had his hand up her skirt! What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, tell the manager? Honestly, I would’ve done the same thing, but I’m not in your position. You needed that job!”
“I know.” Susan blew out a sigh as she studied the wooden crates of leafy greens. Her hopes of funding the summer respite her mom needed so desperately had flown out the window last night. “Waitressing at a nice restaurant like Chez La Ferme is definitely the best money I can make, but I get so mad at guys like that. I thought Max would back me up, not fire me.”
“Can you even send your brother to camp now?”
“Probably not. I shouldn’t have told him he could go, but when I landed this waitressing job and found out it could be full-time as soon as school lets out for the summer, I thought I had the fee easy. I had a payment plan, everything. Now...” She focused on lettuce bunches so Daisy wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. And to top it off, I might have to move home for the summer.” Even saying it made her heart sink. She loved Rescue River and had all kinds of plans for her summer here.
“Why? You’re always talking about how you and your mom...”
“Don’t get along? Yeah.” She sighed, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing she had a storybook family like so many of the Midwestern ones she saw around her these days. “I love Mom, but she and I are like oil and water. If I go back, honestly, it’ll stress her out more. I just want—wanted—her to have a summer to garden and antique shop with her friends, maybe even go on a few dates, without worrying about Donny.”
An older couple wandered over. “You guys okay? Need any help?”
“We’ve got it.” Daisy waved them away and carried a load of bagged lettuce to a sorting table. “So you had a good plan. But you couldn’t help what happened.”
“I could have been more...refined about it.” A couple of tears overflowed, and Susan took off her plastic gloves to dig in her pocket for a tissue. “When am I ever going to learn to control my temper?” She blew her nose.
Daisy put an arm around her. “When you turn into a whole different person. You know, God made you the way you are, and He has a plan for you. Something will work out.” She paused. “Why would you move back home, anyway? What’s wrong with your room at Lacey’s?”
“Lacey’s got renovation fever.” Susan pulled on a fresh pair of plastic gloves. “Remember, she gave me my room cheap because she knew I’d have to move when she started fixing up the place. So now her brother—you know Buck, right? Well, he’s dried out and ready to help, and summer’s the best time for them to get going.” She gauged the right amount of lettuce for a family of four, put it in a plastic bag and twist-tied it. “And I don’t have money for a deposit on a new place. I’ll need to save up.”
“You can stay with me. You know that.”
“You’re sweet.” Susan side-hugged her friend. “And you live in a tiny place with two dogs and a cat. You have exactly zero room, except in that big heart of yours.”
Daisy pried open another crate, this one full of kale leaves. “We just have to pray about it.”
“Well, pray fast, because Lacey asked if I could be out next week. And even if I can land a job at another restaurant in Rescue River—which I doubt, with the non-recommendation Max is giving me—I won’t be making anything like the tips I could bring in at Chez Le Ferme.” She sighed as she dumped out the last of the kale leaves and stowed the wooden crate under the table. “I’m such an idiot.”
“I’ve got it!” Daisy snapped her fingers, a smile lighting her plump face. “I know exactly what you can do for the summer!”
“What?” Susan eyed her friend dubiously and then went back to bagging kale. Daisy was wonderful, but she tended to get overexcited when she had a new idea.
“You know my brother Sam, right? He was at the Easter service at church, and at Troy and Angelica’s wedding.”
“I remember. In fact, he was at the restaurant last night. He...actually said he could get me my job back, but I turned him down.” Susan felt her face flush as she thought of their conversation. She’d still been heated about the encounter with that jerk of a businessman, and she hadn’t had her guard up around Daisy’s brother, as she had the previous couple of times they’d met. She had the distinct feeling she’d been rude to him, but truthfully, he’d disconcerted her with his dominant-guy effort to make all her problems go away.
He was a handsome man, no doubt of that. Tall and broad-shouldered, an all-American quarterback type with a square jaw and close-cropped dark hair.
But he was one of those super traditional guys, she could just tell. In fact, he reminded her of her father, who thought women belonged in the home, not the workplace. Dad had wanted his wife to stay home, and Mom had, and look where it had gotten her. To make matters worse, her father had expected Susan to do the same, sending her to college only for her MRS degree, which she obviously hadn’t gotten. Which she had no interest in getting, not now, not ever. She was a career woman with a distinct calling to teach kids, especially those with special needs. Susan wasn’t one of those people who heard clear instructions from God every week or two, but in the case of her life’s work, she’d gotten the message loud and clear.
Daisy waved her hand impatiently. “You don’t want that job back. I have a better idea. Did I tell you how Sam hired a college girl to take care of Mindy over the summer?”
“What?” Susan pulled herself back to the present, rubbed the back of her plastic-gloved hand over her forehead and tried to focus on what Daisy was saying.
“Sam texted me this morning, all frantic. That girl he hired to be Mindy’s summer nanny just let him know late last night that she can’t do it. She got some internship in DC or something. Now Sam’s hunting for someone to take her place. You’d be perfect!”
Susan laughed in disbelief. “I’d be a disaster! I’m a terrible cook, and...what do nannies even do, anyway?” She had some impression of them as paid housewives, and that was the last thing she wanted to be.
“You’re great with kids! You’re a teacher. Do you know Mindy?”
Susan nodded. “Cute kid, but sort of notorious for playground fights. I’ve bailed her out a few times.”
“She can be a bit of a terror. Losing her mom was hard, and then Sam hasn’t been able to keep a babysitter or nanny...”
“And why would that be?” Susan knew the answer without even asking. You could tell from spending two minutes with Sam that he was a demanding guy.
“He works a lot of hours and he expects a lot. Not so much around the house, he has a cleaning service, but he’s very particular about how Mindy is taken care of. And then with Mindy being temperamental and, um, spirited, it’s not been easy for the people Sam has hired. But you’d be absolutely perfect!”
“Daisy, think.” Susan raised a brow at her friend. “I just got fired for being too mouthy and for not putting up with baloney from chauvinistic guys. And you think this would be perfect how?”
Daisy looked crestfallen for a minute, and then her face brightened. “The thing is, deep inside, Sam would rather have someone who stands up to him than someone who’s a marshmallow. Just look how well he gets along with me!”
Susan chuckled and lifted another crate to the table. “You’re his little sister. He has to put up with you.”
“Sam’s nuts about me because I don’t let him get away with his caveman attitude. You wouldn’t, either. But that’s not the point.”
“Okay, what’s the point?” Susan couldn’t help feeling a tiny flicker of hope about this whole idea—it would be so incredible to be able to send Donny to camp, not to disappoint him and her mother yet again—but she tamped it down. There was no way this would work from either end, hers or Sam’s.
“The point is,” Daisy said excitedly, “you’re certified in special education. That’s absolutely amazing! There’s no way Sam could say you don’t know what you’re doing!”
“Uh-huh.” Susan felt that flicker again.
“He’ll pay a lot. And the thing is, you can live in! You’ll have the summer to save up for a deposit on a new place.”
Susan drew in a breath as the image of her mother and autistic brother flickered again in her mind. “But Daisy,” she said gently, “Sam doesn’t like me. When we talked last night, I could tell.”
One of the food pantry workers came over. “Everything okay here, ladies?”
“Oh, sure, of course! We just got to talking! Sorry!”
For a few minutes, they focused on their produce, efficiently filling bags with kale and then more leaf lettuce, pushing a cartload of bundles over to the distribution tables, coming back to bag up sugar snap peas and radishes someone had dumped in a heap on their table.
Working with the produce felt soothing to Susan. She’d grown up urban and gotten most of her vegetables at the store, but she remembered occasional Saturday trips to the farmers market with her mother, Donny in tow.
Her mother had tried so hard to please her dad, who, with his Japanese ancestry, liked eggplant and cucumbers and napa cabbage. She and her mom had watched cooking videos together, and her mom had studied cookbooks and learned to be a fabulous Japanese chef. Susan’s mouth watered just thinking about daikon salad and salt-pickled cabbage and broccoli stir-fry.
But had it worked? Had her dad been happy? Not really. He’d always had some kind of criticism, and her mother would sneak off and cry and try to do better, and it was never good enough. And as she and Donny had grown up, they hadn’t been enough either, and Susan knew her mother had blamed herself. Having given birth to a rebellious daughter and a son with autism, she felt she’d failed as a woman.
Her mom’s perpetual guilt had ended up making Susan feel guilty, too, and as a hormonal teenager, she’d taken those bad feelings out on her mother. And then Dad had left them, and the sense of failure had been complete.
Susan shook off the uncomfortable reminder of her own inadequacy and looked around. Where was Daisy?
Just then, her friend stood up from rummaging in her purse, cell phone in hand. “I’m calling Sam and telling him to give you an interview.”
“No!” Panic overwhelmed Susan. “Don’t do it!” She dropped the bundle of broccoli she was holding and headed toward Daisy. There was no way she could interview with a man who reminded her so much of her father.
“You can’t stop me!” Daisy teased, and then, probably seeing the alarm on Susan’s face, put her phone behind her and held out a hand. “Honey, God works in mysterious ways, but I am totally sensing this is a God thing. Just let me do it. Just do an interview and see what he says, see how you guys get along.”
Susan felt her life escaping from her control. “I don’t—”
“You don’t have to take the job. Just do the interview.”
“But what if—”
“Please? I’m your friend. I have no vested interest in how this turns out. Well, except for keeping you in town.”
“I...” Susan felt her will to resist fading. There was a lot that was good about the whole idea, right? And so what if it was uncomfortable for her? If her mom and Donny could be happy, she’d be doing her duty, just as her dad had asked her to do before he’d left. You have to take care of them, Suzie, her dad had said in his heavily accented English.
“I’m setting something up for this afternoon. If not sooner.” Daisy turned back to the phone and Susan felt a sense of doom settling over her.
* * *
That afternoon, Susan climbed out of her car in front of Sam’s modern-day mansion on the edge of Rescue River, grabbed her portfolio, and headed up the sidewalk, all the while arguing with God. “Daisy says You’ll make a way where there is no way, but what if I don’t like Your way? And I can say for sure that Sam Hinton isn’t going to like my way, so this is a waste of time I could be—”
The double front doors swung open. She caught a glimpse of a high-ceilinged entryway, a mahogany table full of framed photos and a spectacular, sparkling chandelier, but it was Sam Hinton who commanded her attention. He stood watching her approach, wearing a sleeves-rolled-up white dress shirt and jeans, arms crossed, legs apart.
Talk about a man and his castle. And those arms! Was he a bodybuilder in his spare time or what?
“Thanks for coming.” He extended one massive hand to her.
She reached out and shook it, ignoring the slight breathlessness she felt. This was Sam, Daisy’s super-traditional businessman of a brother, not America’s next male model. “No problem. Daisy thought it would be a good idea.”
“Yes. She had me squeeze you in, but you should know that I’m interviewing several other candidates today.”
“No problem.” Was God going to let her off this easy?
“It seems like a lot of people are interested in the job, probably because I’m paying well for a summer position.” He ushered her in.
“How well?”
He threw a figure over his shoulder as he led her into an oak-lined office in the front of the house, and Susan’s jaw dropped.
Twice as much as she’d ever hoped to make waitressing. She could send Donny to camp and her mom to the spa. Maybe even pay for another graduate course.
Okay, God—and Daisy—You were right. It’s the perfect job for me.
He gestured her into the seat in front of his broad oak desk, and Susan felt a pang of nostalgia. Her dad had done the exact same thing when he wanted to talk to her about some infraction of his rules. Only his desk had just been an old door on a couple of sawhorses in the basement. How he would have loved a home office like this one.
“I don’t know if you’ve met Mindy, but she has some...limitations.” His jaw jutted out as if he was daring her to make a comment.
“If you think of them that way.” The words were out before she could weigh the wisdom of saying them, and she shouldn’t have, but come on! The child was missing a hand, not a heart or a set of lungs.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “I think I know my child better than you do. Have you even met Mindy?”
Rats, rats, rats. Would she ever learn to shut her big mouth? “I teach at Mindy’s school, so I’ve been the recess and lunchroom monitor during her kindergarten year. I know about her hand. But of course, you know her better, you’re her father.”
Sam was eyeing her with a level glare.
“We have a sign up at school that reads, ‘Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.’ I think it’s Richard Bach. I just meant...it’s an automatic response.” Stop talking, Susan. God might have a nice plan for her, but she was perfectly capable of ruining nice plans. She’d done it all her life. She fumbled in her portfolio. “Here’s my résumé.”
He took it, glanced over it. Then looked more closely. “You’ve done coursework on physical disabilities? Graduate coursework?”
“Yeah. I’m working on my master’s in special ed. Bit by bit.”
“Why not go back full-time? At least summers? Why are you looking to work instead?”
“Quite frankly, I have a mother and brother to help support.” Hello, Mr. Rich Guy, everyone’s not rolling in money like you are.
“Doesn’t the district pay for your extra schooling?”
“Six credits per year, which is two classes. I’ve used mine up.”
He was studying her closely, as if she was a bug pinned on the wall. Or as if she was a woman he was interested in, but she was absolutely certain that couldn’t be. “I see.” He nodded. “Well, I’m not sure this would be the job for you anyway. I go out in the evenings pretty often.”
“Really?” She opened her mouth to say more and then clamped it closed. Shut up, you want this job.
“I know, being young and adventurous, you must go out a lot yourself.”
“Don’t make assumptions. That’s not what I was thinking.” She looked away from him, annoyed.
“What were you thinking?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Try me.”
“I was thinking: you work super long hours, right? And you go out in the evenings. So...when do you spend time with your daughter?”
* * *
Sam stared at Susan as her question hung in the air between them. “When do I...? Look. If you’ve already decided I’m a terrible parent, this isn’t going to work.”
Truthfully, her words uncovered the guilt that consumed him as an overworked single dad. He hated how much time he had to spend away from Mindy. Half the time, he hated dating, too, but he’d promised Marie that he’d remarry so that Mindy wouldn’t be raised without a mother in the home. Probably, she’d made him promise because she knew how much he worked and feared that Mindy would be raised by babysitters if he didn’t remarry.
Well, he’d changed and was trying to change more, but he’d made a promise—not just about remarrying, but about what type of mom Mindy needed, actually—and he intended to keep it. Which didn’t mean this snippy schoolteacher had the right to condemn him.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s not my place to judge and I don’t know your situation. Ask Daisy, I’m way too outspoken and it always gets me into trouble.” Her face was contrite and her apology sounded sincere. “The thing is, I know kids and I’m good with them. If you’re struggling, either with her disability or with...other issues, I could help. Build up her self-esteem, encourage her independence.” Those pretty, almond-shaped brown eyes looked a little bit shiny, as if she was holding back tears. “Don’t turn me down just because I’m mouthy, if you think I’d be a help to Mindy.”
She was right. And he was a marshmallow around women who looked sad, especially seriously cute ones like Susan. “It’s okay.”
And it was okay. He recognized already that his burst of anger had more to do with his own guilty feelings than with her comment. But that didn’t mean he had to hire her.
The doorbell chimed, making them both jump. “That’s probably my next interview. I’m sorry.” He stood. “Here’s your résumé back.”
“It’s all right, you can keep it. In case you change your mind.” She stood and grabbed her elegant black portfolio. Come to think of it, all of her was elegant, from her close-fitting black trousers to her white shirt and vest to her long black hair with a trendy-looking stripe of red in it, neatly clipped back.
Just for a minute, he wondered what that hair would look like flowing free.
Sam forced that thought away as he came around his desk to Susan’s side. She looked neat and professional, but as soon as she opened her mouth, it became apparent that she was quite a character. Sam shook his head as he ushered her through the entryway. Why Daisy had thought he and Susan could work together was beyond him.
Thinking about her interview, he couldn’t help grinning. What job applicant questioned and insulted the potential boss? You didn’t see that in the business world. He was used to people kowtowing to him, begging for a job. Susan could take a few lessons in decorum, but he had to admit he enjoyed her spunk.
The doorbell chimed again just as they reached it, so he was in the awkward position of having two job applicants pass each other in the doorway. The new one, a curvaceous blonde in a flowered dress, stood smiling, a plate of plastic-wrap-covered cookies in her hands.
“Hi, are you Mr. Hinton? Thank you so much for agreeing to interview me. I would just absolutely love to have this job! What a great house!”
“Come on in.” He gestured the new applicant into the entryway. “Susan, I’ll be in touch.”’
“I hope so,” she murmured as she brushed past him and out the door. “But I’m not holding my breath.”
