It takes five minutes to get from Aunt Veronica’s to the Kings’, but it seems as if I’ve stepped into another world. While my great aunt looks like she lives in the middle of farm country, the Kings’ house appears lifted from wealthy suburbia. They even have a long, winding driveway complete with a gate I have to buzz someone to open.

As I roll toward the five-car garage, I gawk at the shrubs in the shape of various mythical creatures. Some stand alone and majestic, and others hold battle poses like they’ll attack their neighbor at any moment. Flowers adorn many of the shrubs and give the creatures clothes or armor or hair.

The house, a periwinkle two-story French chateau, has an intricate fairy garden before it. An Olympic-sized pool sits to the right of the house, and near that, I spot a tennis court. Large, colorful mosaics decorate the path that leads through the garden to the house.

I’ve witnessed many displays of wealth, but nothing as pretty or odd as the Kings’ home. My father would think it gaudy, a clear sign of poor breeding, and my mother would love it. Before moving to Derbinwood, I’d have agreed with her father, but now I study the house and grounds with a fresh eye and try to silence my father’s voice listing criticisms in my head.

After a moment, I nod. The house has its own charm, and though the decorations surprise, they don’t disgust. It isn’t like penises and vaginas litter the grounds.

With four minutes to ten, I park in front of the garage. I check my bag for my updated resume, adjust my makeup and top, and exit my car. I don’t run to the front door, but I move with purpose, in case the Kings watch from a window. I ring the doorbell and don’t fidget as I wait for an answer.

A woman a half a foot taller than me opens the door. The deep wrinkles in the center of her forehead furrow as she takes in me on the doorstep. “Are you here about the housekeeping position?”

The woman’s clipped, haughty tone doesn’t faze me. I hold out my hand. “Yes. My name’s Whitney—”

The woman frowns. “You’re late.”

“Oh, but I thought—”

The woman smooths the expensive suit she wears. “It’s a good thing my meeting got moved to this afternoon.” She looks me up and down once more. “I won’t tolerate tardiness again, understand?”

Despite only a few years between us, I feel in the presence of someone lightyears older. In an instant, I know I’ll never like the woman before me. She can cure cancer and rescue every lonely puppy in the world, and I still wouldn’t want to be in a room with this woman for more than five seconds.

How can I handle the woman as my employer?

But, if I get the position, I’ll have to. Not much exists for a college dropout forced to live in a new town. Unless I want to flip burgers and smell like cheap grease, I need to make nice with the woman.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman covers her ears. “Ugh, never call me that again.”

“Sorry...”

“Jenna. Always refer to me as Jenna.”

“Okay.”

Jenna motions for me to move forward. “Come on. Let’s go see what my other third thinks of you.”

Her statement catches me off guard, but I can’t place why. Before I can think about it further, Jenna glances at me; her eyes are daggers. I forget what she said and step into the chateau.

The inside looks as fantastical as the outside, though glimpses of elegant conformity mar the effect. The two different tastes try dominating the space and ruin an otherwise gorgeous house. I don’t consider this as a good sign of the Kings’ marriage.

Jenna takes me to a sitting room toward the back of the house. The bright room holds so many windows a light is unnecessary, though an ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Various hobby tools litter the area: an easel occupies one corner, a chess set waits in the opposite corner, and a glass cabinet full of knitting supplies takes up a significant portion of the room. I notice a tiny bookcase, but the print on the books is so small I can’t read them.

A familiar man sits on the loveseat in the center of the room. He smiles when Jenna and I enter the room. His captivating eyes twinkle. “Why, hello again.”

Jenna stops mid-stride. She looks from me to Adam. “You’re new to town, right?” she asks me.

“Yeah. I just moved in with my Aunt Veronica.”

A close-lipped smile puckers Jenna’s mouth, and with her red lipstick, she appears a demon about to dispense punishment. “So, dear, how do you possibly know this young woman?”

Jenna’s question and its strong implication hang in the air so long I want to bolt from the room. What good cheer Adam expressed on my arrival disappears. A flash of disgust darkens his eyes, soon replaced by apathy.

“She was at Darla’s the other day,” he finally says.

Jenna’s smile turns into another frown. “Oh.”

Adam turns to me, his expression lively. He extends his hand. “What’s your name?”

I glance at Jenna before I take Adam’s hand and shake it. “My name’s Whitney Davis.”

He squeezes my fingers for longer than appropriate. Adam doesn’t look at his wife, but I know he can feel Jenna’s gaze boring into us. “Nice to meet you.” He offers me a sensual smile I would like if I didn’t know he’s a married man and his wife didn’t stand five feet from us.

I untangle my grip from his. “Nice to meet you, too.” I include Jenna in my statement.

Jenna’s cheeks have grown enflamed. “Did you bring a resume? We won’t consider you without one.”

I fish the paper out of my bag. I put it in a folder to keep it free of wrinkles, and, after my brief time with Jenna, I can’t be happier with my decision. Everything about the woman screams precision.

“Here you are.” I give Jenna the resume.

Adam tries to read the paper over his wife’s shoulder, but she jerks out of his line of sight. He sighs and shakes his head. “Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Davis?”

“No, I’m—”

“She’s not going to be here long enough for that nonsense,” Jenna cuts in, her nose still buried in the resume.

Adam sighs again and reclaims his spot on the loveseat. He twiddles his long, thick fingers, and gazes at everything but Jenna. More than once his stare lingers on me, and when I catch him, he flashes me an encouraging grin. I want to smile back but fear what his wife will think of the gesture.

Six minutes pass before Jenna looks up from the resume. “Are all these numbers current?”

“Yes.”

“I can call all of them?”

I want to roll my eyes. Why else would I list them if the Kings wouldn’t be able to? I might be in my early twenties, but that doesn’t make me stupid.

“Yes, you can,” I say instead.

“Good. Good.” Jenna’s eyes flick to the resume and then to me. “So, would this be your first job?”

“Kind of. I did some work at college when I could.”

“Have you completed college?”

Adam glares at his wife. “Jenna!”

Jenna shrugs. “What? She put it on the resume, and just mentioned it.” She smirks at me, but honey drips from her voice as she asks, “It doesn’t bother you when I ask about it, does it?”

Even if it did, I won’t admit it. No doubt, Jenna runs a successful company or takes care of the affairs of the person who does. She exploits weakness daily, and from the glint in her round, mustard brown eyes, I know Jenna loves every second of it.

“Nah, I’m an open book.”

The glee fades from Jenna’s gaze. “Well, good to hear.”

Adam doesn’t successfully hide his smile.

Jenna straightens. “So, did you graduate?”

“No, I dropped out.”

“Why? You seemed to have a promising career ahead of you. You were going to be a doctor, right?”

I nod. “A cardiologist like my father.”

“What made you give that up?”

Adam slides closer to the edge of the cushion he sits on. He appears genuinely interested, and I speak more to him than his wife. “I discovered it wasn’t what I really want to do with my life.”

“What do you really want to do?”

“I, uh, like to bake, and want to...do something with that.” I don’t want to confess my bakery desire, not to someone like Jenna. She reminds me too much of my father.

Jenna grimaces. “I...hope it works out for you.”

“I bet it will,” Adam says, and his input gladdens me. His gaze locks with mine yet again, and for the second time, I hate that he wears a wedding band.

“I demand perfection,” Jenna says and draws all attention to her. “Can you give me that on a constant basis?”

The way Jenna watches and speaks to me finally makes me snap. I put on my fakest, brightest smile. “I’ll try.” Then, with as much cheer as I can muster, I add, “But even if I fail, from what I’ve heard, you don’t have many other options.”

Jenna jerks as if I spat gum into her short, golden locks. “Yes, well...” She sets my resume on the coffee table in front of the loveseat. “We have your information.”

Suddenly, my annoyance with Mrs. Kings evaporates. I can’t ruin this job opportunity. I search for words to correct my mistake, but nothing comes to mind before Jenna excuses me.

“Today, please,” Jenna says when I don’t move fast enough.

“Y-yes.” I look between the Kings. “Thank you for...seeing me.”

Jenna crosses her arms and taps her foot. “You’re going to make me late for a meeting.”

Adam waves at me, though I can’t read his expression. “Goodbye, Ms. Davis.”

“Goodbye.”

I all but flee from the house. My urgent movements don’t stop when I reach my car. My sinuses burn, and I long to scream, but I don’t want anyone who glances out the window to see my breakdown. I won’t give Jenna the satisfaction.

Once away from the Kings’ property, I pull over and put my face in my hands. What the hell was I thinking? Don’t I care about my future at all? Do I want to prove my father right?

***

That night, I drink a hot toddy (Aunt Veronica’s suggestion and I didn’t bother to question it) while I make homemade candles; a task I’ve done since my fourth-grade teacher showed me how. The tea doesn’t contain a high level of whiskey, but it has enough that, after consuming a quarter of it, I’m tipsy. I shouldn’t make candles in my state, but I figure since Aunt Veronica checks on me each time she comes into the kitchen, nothing terrible will happen. Even if it does, she’ll fix it.

As I cut soy wax into small chunks, I try to keep my thoughts as far as possible from the disaster I created this afternoon. If I don’t, I’ll cry again like I did most the afternoon, and I can’t handle another headache.

I just placed my wax into the glass measuring cup I’ve used for years when my cell phone rings. I consider not answering it, but I’ve gone so long without talking to anyone outside of Derbinwood that I don’t want to miss the opportunity to connect with my previous life. I pick up my cell phone from the kitchen table and study the unknown number for a long second. Then I shrug and accept the call. Maybe one of my friends got a new phone.

“Hello?” I say and prepare to hear Sabrina Tials’ voice—a woman I worked well with on projects at college, but I can’t stand Sabrina’s habit of jumping topics mid-sentence.

“Ms. Davis?” responds Adam’s voice.

I sober. “Yes?”

“We discussed it, and we’d like you to take the job.”

“Seriously? Even after...today?”

“You can’t talk to Jenna like that again.”

“I didn’t plan on it.”

“Then you got the job. We need you Monday through Saturday, seven in the morning until four. We’ll pay you ten-fifty an hour since you’re so inexperienced. But if you do well, in six months, we’ll raise your pay to thirteen dollars an hour. Then we’ll give you raises yearly. That all right?”

The news stuns me. Maybe this isn’t real. Did I get drunk, pass out, and now dream the Kings want to hire me?

“Ms. Davis, you still there?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” I shake my head. No, I’m not dreaming. This is really happening, and I need to pay attention unless I want my employer to think me brainless. “Sorry.”

Adam chuckles. “Do you like the details?”

“Yes, they’re perfect.”

“Then you’ll take the job.”

I grin. “I’d love to.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Davis.”

“Thank you!”

Adam’s laugh deepens before he ends the call.

I power down my cell phone and do a silly dance around the table. On my third pass, I see Aunt Veronica step into the kitchen. She watches me with a crooked smile.

“Are you losing your freeloader status?”

I stop before my cut wax. “Yep.”

Aunt Veronica nods. “Just keep it, okay?”

“God couldn’t turn me away from this job.”