Page 10 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
Archer was looking at her again with that expression, like he was disappointed he’d even invited her here. He must be just as desperate as she was. Just as desperate as Gladys had said, if Iris was his best option.
‘I asked if you had worked with children before.’
‘Oh … uh … not exactly.’
‘Not exactly children?’
‘Well, I work a lot with seniors who are also a vulnerable population,’ she said, repeating the line she’d rehearsed with Bex last night with a tense smile.
Archer gave a small nod, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he should believe her bullshit. Not that it was total bullshit, just the normal amount of interview spin. She was sure her seniors would just love to be compared to a kindergartener, but as much as she hated to admit it, she could really use this job.
‘I teach classes at the Y.’
Theteachpart seemed to get his attention so she kept going. ‘I’m CPR and first-aid certified and … uh … I’m creative and…’
What else had Gladys listed?
‘And I’m available.’ Why did that make her cheeks flush hot? ‘I mean, I’m available to start work right away.’ She smiled again and met his stare. And for a brief second, his expression softened, and she thought maybe she’d passed the test. Until he tore his gaze away, his mouth reset in its grim line.
‘Coffee?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’
He turned away to pour her a mug, giving her a much-needed reprieve from his stare.
‘How do you take it?’
‘Milk and sugar, please.’
He set it all out on the counter and as she stirred in her milk and sugar, she noticed he drank his black. With the intensity radiating off this man, she felt that a nice cup of chamomile would be a better choice, but it probably wasn’t her place to say.
‘So, maybe we should go over the responsibilities of the job?’ she suggested as she sipped her coffee.
‘Right. Of course.’ He set down his mug, his gaze traveling past her to where Olive sat on the couch before flicking back to Iris.
‘I will need to leave before five every morning, which is why I proposed a live-in situation, if that works for you. Then you will be responsible for getting Olive up and ready for her day and getting her to school. Like I said before, she needs to be picked up at two-thirty.Promptly. I typically get home around six.’
He glanced at Olive again and then lowered his voice.
‘She doesn’t talk.’
‘What do you mean, she doesn’t talk?’
An expression like shame mixed with frustration crossed his face. ‘Shecantalk. She just doesn’t talk to me.’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘She’s in therapy, and obviously this is really hard and traumatic, and I just want…’ Again he looked like he wanted to scream his frustrations but instead swallowed them down. ‘I just want some stability for her. I want someone to be here for her when I’m not. It’s why I thought it best if you … if the nanny lived with us… But if that’s a problem…?’
He was practically whispering now and they’d both leaned in across the counter. She was close enough to see the worry in his eyes, the crease between his brows, the way his hair stood up from his hands tugging on it throughout the day. And looking at him, worried and tired and scared, something warm and tender settled in Iris’s gut.
And Iris always listened to her gut.
‘We’ll make it work,’ she said, the smile soft and gentle around her lips in an attempt to coax out the same from him. The most she got was a slight relaxing around his shoulders, but she’d take it for now. ‘I agree that me living here would help Olive feel more comfortable around me. And this way I can’t be late for work.’
A surprised laugh escaped him.
Success. Iris grinned.
‘Thank you. I really…’ He cleared his throat. ‘It’s been a rough week.’
‘I can imagine.’
