Page 16 of Boss of Me
“This morning?” I squeak.
Barbara cringes apologetically. “I know it’s short notice, but I didn’t want you to miss out on the opportunity. Like I said, this job opening won’t last very long.”
I glance at my watch. I have less than an hour to get to the interview, and I still have to clear out my desk and turn in my ID.
Barbara’s intercom buzzes. “We’re waiting for you in the conference room,” an impatient voice says.
“Be right there.” Barbara mutters something in Korean, then gives me a rueful look. “Guess we’d both better get going.”
I muster a smile. “Thanks for looking out for me. You didn’t have to, but you did and I appreciate it.”
“No thanks necessary. It was the least I could do.” She smiles kindly. “Good luck, Marlowe. Keep in touch.”
i have to take an uberto the interview, so Quinn offers to drop my things off later. She feels awful for me, but I can tellshe’s secretly relieved to still have a job. So are several other coworkers who gather around my cubicle to commiserate while I pack.
After saying goodbye to everyone, I head out and climb into my waiting Uber. We’re halfway down the street before I realize I don’t even know the name of my potential new employer. I was so rattled by getting canned that I totally forgot to ask Barbara, and now it’s too late.
I’ve never felt so unprepared for a job interview.
It’s barely ten o’clock and the temperature has already reached a sweltering eighty-five degrees. I’m roasting in the backseat of the Prius. Sweat trickles down my spine, gluing my shirt to my back. The car’s air conditioning couldn’t have picked a worse day to go on the fritz.
The driver sheepishly apologizes and cranks the windows down, but the stifling breeze doesn’t offer much relief.
I uselessly fan myself as I stare out at the passing scenery. The employer lives in a wealthy enclave just west of downtown. Nestled along Lake Austin, the sprawling estate is tucked away behind an imposing iron gate.
After my driver identifies himself to a video camera, the gate swings slowly open. As we head up the mile-long drive, I can’t help feeling dazzled by the lakefront property. The grounds are dotted with live oaks that form a canopy over the road, and the perfectly manicured grass is so green it looks fake.
I pull out my compact and almost shriek at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed from the heat, and not in a flattering way. The wind tugged strands of hair from my bun, plastering them to my damp forehead. I look like I just trekked across a desert under a blazing sun.
I hurriedly tuck the loose strands back into my bun, refresh my lip gloss and check my underarms to make sure I don’t have sweat stains.
As we near the end of the drive, an enormous mansion comes into view. It’s sleek and modern with lots of glass and chrome. Totally stunning.
The driver pulls around the circle and stops in front of the stone staircase leading up to the front door. He starts apologizing again for the AC, but I’m already jumping from the oven of a car and hurrying up the steps to press the doorbell.
An actual butler opens the door and peers down his nose at me. “Miss Somerset?”
“Hello. I’m here for an interview with Mrs. Calder,” I say, referring to the head housekeeper.
The man ushers me inside a gigantic entrance hall with a checkered marble floor and abstract modern art on the walls.
“This way, please.”
I follow the butler, looking around with a mixture of amazement and dread. I don’t mind hard work, but this isa lotof square footage to clean.
The butler leads me to a high-ceilinged sitting room with sleek couches and chairs. A huge picture window offers a spectacular view of the lake.
I’m greeted by an elegant fiftysomething woman with blondish gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. She takes in my wilted appearance and purses her lips with displeasure.
“Miss Somerset, I presume?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Feeling intimidated and self-conscious, I move forward to shake the woman’s hand.
Her fingers are cool, her pale gray eyes critically appraising me from head to toe. “You sounded older on the phone.”
“I get that a lot,” I say, assuming she wouldn’t approve of my boss impersonating me.
She studies my face another moment and then motions for me to sit in one of the two armchairs next to the large marble fireplace.
