wasn’t personal, I just didn’t expect anyone to be there. The car died in the middle of traffic and I’m kinda shaken up.”
“I’ll bet. Have you already called a tow truck?”
“No.” I didn’t bother mentioning that I wasn’t going to call one at all, but he seemed to sense that without me having to say it.
“Do you want a ride?” He straightened and then extended his hand. “I’m Max Thorpe, former Boy Scout, current archaeology student, and future Indiana Jones. Or, more likely, future professor.”
I smiled at his introduction, shaking his hand. “I’m Brooke.”
“Ah, Brooke. I pour my heart out to you and you only give me your first name. That’s fine, I like a mysterious woman. Keep your secrets if you wish, but now that we’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve eliminated the need to worry about accepting a ride from a stranger.”
I laughed, the first real laugh I’d had in a long time. He was being purposely silly to lighten my mood and it had worked, despite- or maybe because of- how cheesy it was. I was grateful to him for that, and even though he was, in fact, a stranger, I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about. I would be safe with him.
“Well, Max. How could a girl say no to that? Lead me to your chariot.”
We got in his car and I told him where to take me. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement before even being told the location of the interview, and after reading through all the legalese, I understood that if I ever disclosed even the smallest bit of information about the interview, I’d be sued for everything I had (nothing) and everything I’d ever have (probably only a bit more than nothing).
To be on the safe side, I gave Max a general location rather than the exact address. He didn’t ask any prying questions, instead leading a discussion about our favorite eighties movies. By the time the car pulled up in front of my destination, all of my built-up anxiety had melted away thanks to Max’s awesome celebrity impersonations. Plus, it didn’t hurt at all that his air conditioning was in perfect working order and blissfully icy.
“Thanks for the ride. You’re a lifesaver, really.”
“No problem.” He pressed the button that unlocked the door. “See you around, Brooke.”
“See you.” I hopped out of the car and pulled the interview letter out of my purse to double check the address. Of course, I’d already committed it to memory, but I looked at it again anyway to confirm.
When I arrived at the building, I took a deep breath before pulling open the glass door and walking in. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way across the lobby to the reception desk.
“Hello, how may I help you?” The manicured redhead behind the desk smiled at me. The raised silver lettering on the wall behind her spelled out Grant Ventures.
“Um, hi.” My nerves had returned, tearing through my insides like deranged butterflies. “I’m here to see Mr. Ferguson.”
“Okay, he’ll meet you in the eighth floor conference room.”
“Thank you.”
As I rode the elevator up, I wondered about the strange location of the interview. The office building was luxurious, all sleek glass and elegant marble and top-notch design. But I was here to interview for a nanny position, not a corporate job, so it was strange that my potential employer had decided to conduct the interview here instead of at home.
Then again, everything about this interview process had been strange. After I first saw the job posting online for a nanny with a salary of $100,000 after tax , I sent a copy of my resume as soon as I picked my jaw up off the floor. Of course, that was the exact amount of money I needed in four months, not a year, in order to make everything right. But there was no other job I could get that would pay that much.
I figured I wouldn’t hear back, since a twenty-year old college dropout would probably drown among the fierce competition of people vying for
“I’ll bet. Have you already called a tow truck?”
“No.” I didn’t bother mentioning that I wasn’t going to call one at all, but he seemed to sense that without me having to say it.
“Do you want a ride?” He straightened and then extended his hand. “I’m Max Thorpe, former Boy Scout, current archaeology student, and future Indiana Jones. Or, more likely, future professor.”
I smiled at his introduction, shaking his hand. “I’m Brooke.”
“Ah, Brooke. I pour my heart out to you and you only give me your first name. That’s fine, I like a mysterious woman. Keep your secrets if you wish, but now that we’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve eliminated the need to worry about accepting a ride from a stranger.”
I laughed, the first real laugh I’d had in a long time. He was being purposely silly to lighten my mood and it had worked, despite- or maybe because of- how cheesy it was. I was grateful to him for that, and even though he was, in fact, a stranger, I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about. I would be safe with him.
“Well, Max. How could a girl say no to that? Lead me to your chariot.”
We got in his car and I told him where to take me. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement before even being told the location of the interview, and after reading through all the legalese, I understood that if I ever disclosed even the smallest bit of information about the interview, I’d be sued for everything I had (nothing) and everything I’d ever have (probably only a bit more than nothing).
To be on the safe side, I gave Max a general location rather than the exact address. He didn’t ask any prying questions, instead leading a discussion about our favorite eighties movies. By the time the car pulled up in front of my destination, all of my built-up anxiety had melted away thanks to Max’s awesome celebrity impersonations. Plus, it didn’t hurt at all that his air conditioning was in perfect working order and blissfully icy.
“Thanks for the ride. You’re a lifesaver, really.”
“No problem.” He pressed the button that unlocked the door. “See you around, Brooke.”
“See you.” I hopped out of the car and pulled the interview letter out of my purse to double check the address. Of course, I’d already committed it to memory, but I looked at it again anyway to confirm.
When I arrived at the building, I took a deep breath before pulling open the glass door and walking in. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way across the lobby to the reception desk.
“Hello, how may I help you?” The manicured redhead behind the desk smiled at me. The raised silver lettering on the wall behind her spelled out Grant Ventures.
“Um, hi.” My nerves had returned, tearing through my insides like deranged butterflies. “I’m here to see Mr. Ferguson.”
“Okay, he’ll meet you in the eighth floor conference room.”
“Thank you.”
As I rode the elevator up, I wondered about the strange location of the interview. The office building was luxurious, all sleek glass and elegant marble and top-notch design. But I was here to interview for a nanny position, not a corporate job, so it was strange that my potential employer had decided to conduct the interview here instead of at home.
Then again, everything about this interview process had been strange. After I first saw the job posting online for a nanny with a salary of $100,000 after tax , I sent a copy of my resume as soon as I picked my jaw up off the floor. Of course, that was the exact amount of money I needed in four months, not a year, in order to make everything right. But there was no other job I could get that would pay that much.
I figured I wouldn’t hear back, since a twenty-year old college dropout would probably drown among the fierce competition of people vying for
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