Page 6 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

“It’s live-in,” she grunts.

Oh, great. Emily is selling me off into human trafficking. I should have known this would happen one day.

I halfway don’t blame her.

“You know, I do have a few other things that I am—”

“Jolene, it’s perfect for you,” she cuts me off, suddenly awake and kind of glaring at me.

I take a deep breath and try to freeze. I try to see it from her perspective. Hasn’t she been generous? Of course she has. No matter how well-behaved a houseguest I have tried to be, I knew this wasn’t going to be permanent. I knew I was going to have to go someday.

But it’s only been… Oh shit. It has been eight months.

Yeah, okay. She’s probably really sick of me.

“All you have to do is not murder the kids every day. Think you can handle that?” she asks, mouth twisted into a wry smile.

I have a million questions. Kids? Plural? Why is it live-in? Is it in this city? Is it in this country?

“I guess I could try it,” I offer lamely.

She takes a long sip of the coffee, swallowing with her eyes closed. I know if she would just finish the cup, she would have a totally different attitude. Maybe we could start this conversation all over?

“Do or do not, there is no try,” she replies in her best Yoda voice.

I know what she means. Basically, she means get out.

Chapter 3

JOLENE

Itook Emily’s advice—I mean, her command that left no room for negotiation—and responded to the job posting that she showed me. It was in the childcare section of Craigslist Chattanooga.

Why was Emily strolling through that section of Craigslist? Well, I guess she was really motivated to get me off the sofa.

The ad said simply that a nanny was needed, full-time, live-in, plus a salary. Kids between the ages of one month and seven years. Respond with references and a description of my desire to take on this kind of responsibility.

Though I felt like an absolute imposter, I figured the least I could do was give it a good try for Emily’s sake. It wouldn’t be right to just blow it off and continue to mooch off of her goodwill. If any of that is left.

But really, what did I have to say? Totally unqualified, inexperienced, basically homeless young woman available to influence your child? Really? Who the hell would want that?

So instead, I tried to curate my life experiences in such a way that I sounded at least moderately interesting. Homeless? No way. I am an adventurous, easy-going spirit. Uneducated? No. I thrive on life experiences. Unqualified? Well, I know children exist. I have certainly been around them. All have survived.

Somehow, I managed to put together about a page of semi-relevant information about myself that sounded reasonably sane. I left my cell phone number and my name and included a snapshot of me fishing off a dock with Emily last summer. Look how outdoorsy I am! Wow. What a good influence for small children. Like a camp counselor.

To my absolute shock and dismay, it worked. I got an email back in about ten minutes, requesting an interview. The poor guy.

So here we are. Emily hunches over the steering wheel, swiveling her head from left to right at the four-way intersection. These mountain roads can be really dangerous. Even though we have stop signs, the average out-of-towner isn’t going to know where the most dangerous intersections are. You always have to be on the lookout for random flatlanders in Priuses rolling through stop signs without even realizing they’re putting all of our lives in danger.

I can’t talk to her right now. She is on a mission. She is completely dedicated to the idea that she’s going to drive me to this house, I’m going to take this interview, and she is going to be rid of me.

Things have gotten a little more tense. I would’ve thought she might relax a little bit. No such luck. Once I told her about the interview, I could see she was completely sold.

She picked out my outfit. Pink T-shirt. Not too tight. Pink skirt, with a pale blue stripe. Not too short. Little white tennis shoes and ankle socks. 100 percent daycare teacher.

But I am determined to have a good attitude. I will have thebestattitude. Much attitude. Not the bad kind, either, but the good kind. The kind that gets you hired.

Her eyes flicker back and forth to the directions app on her iPhone. Suspiciously, she stares at a break in the winding mountain road and angles toward it.

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