Page 10 of Accidental Irish Daddy

I get my clothes together and get dressed. As soon as I put my makeup on, the front door opens downstairs. I step out of the bathroom and look down the stairs to see Bridget walking in, bookbag on her back.

“Hey,” I say brightly. She looks up at me and smiles.

“Wow, you look great.” Her brows furrow as her smile drops “You’re not going to work, are you?”

I shake my head, “Nope. Well, sort of. I’ve got an interview.”

She does a little hop and claps her hands merrily. “That’s great! Is it the nursing thing?”

“Sure is. Private home nurse. Pays enough to get your meds and enough for me to save to get us out of this dump.”

“That’s great!” She runs up the stairs and hugs me.

I hug her back. It feels nice to have this moment of joy.

“There’s just one thing,” I tell her. I kneel down in front of her. “Liam isn’t back yet, and the interview’s in a little bit, so I’ll have to take you with me. Is that okay?”

She nods her head enthusiastically. “I can be quiet. I’ve got homework to do anyway.”

I smile. “Good. When we get there, just wait in the car while I go in, all right? I promise I won’t be long.”

And so, it’s settled. Bridget goes to her room to put her things away and change out of her uniform, and I finish getting ready for the interview. I take one final look at myself in the mirror, looking over my made-up face and long, red hair.

Hmm.It’d better if it’s in a ponytail.I tie it back and then practice my smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to my reflection.

***

This is the address?

We’re driving along the road leading up to this gigantic house that looks more like a museum than anything else and passing by finely manicured trees and hedges, all lined up on either side of the road.

I was sure this was supposed to be a private residence, but…maybe this is a facility of some sort?

I look around the vast lawn for any sign of elderly tenants reading or going for walks along the garden of roses near the house, but there aren’t any.

Bridget’s voice sounds in awe. “Is this somebody’shouse?”

I shrug. “I guess. It’s something, eh?”

She nods, pigtails bobbing.

It’s not until we’re almost at the front lawn that I see a person.

An elderly woman is kneeling down by the rose garden, wearing a sunhat and gardening gloves. It looks like she’s snipped more than a few roses and put them in a basket on her arm. When she sees our car, she stands up, smiling brightly at us.

Maybe this is the woman I’m supposed to take care of? If it is, then this will probably be the easiest job I could imagine. I mean, she’s old, but she seems perfectly healthy.

In fact, as we pull up, she comes around to the driver’s side. “Well, hello there, lass. I’m Martha.”

I shake her hand. “Hi, Martha. I’m Aisling. I’m… Um, I’m here to interview with…I believe his name is Mr. Duncan?”

“Oh, yes!” she exclaims. “For his mother. Yes, yes, yes. Well, go on and park right over there. I’ll show you in.”

She steps back from the car, and I exchange a glance with Bridget.

Martha…nothis mother and not the woman I’m supposed to care for. I wonder who she is.

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