Page 28 of Prelude To You

I held my breath for a few seconds. “You know when I saw this place there was no doubt in my mind that someonereally important lived here… Listen, I’m pretty adventurous, I’ve traveled and I’m not scared of trying anything new but this whole Downton Abby vibe… It’s beginning to intimidate me a little. I have no idea how to act.”

Miss Leyland folded her hands on top of the documents and contemplated me. I couldn’t read this woman, and that made me very nervous. And then I had to blather on because that’s what you do when you’re interviewing for a well-paid and relatively easy job.

“I mean I’m not a savage,” I said, “but this just feels a little out of my league. Surely there are professional people out there who do reading to sick people for a living. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds like something I’d love to do but, well…you know.”

The silence grew and I shifted uncomfortably under her inquisitive gaze. When she finally replied her polished voice had a more sociable edge to it.

“We have had our share of professional candidates,” Miss Leyland said. “None of them made it to the inner sanctum, and they left right after their interview in this office. The one who made it past this office didn’t last the second day, for reasons I’d prefer not to go into now.”

I couldn’t figure out whether that was a prediction or a warning. But Miss Leyland’s expression had downgraded from granite to something a little softer, and I could feel myself relaxing a tiny bit.

“What was your last job, Miss Le Roche? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m a pastry chef by profession and I was working at a French restaurant until last night when I was promptly fired and blacklisted, if you can believe that.”

“Oh?” Miss Leyland said, her brows arching a millimeter. “May I ask the reason why?”

“A patron made lecherous advances including putting his hand on my behind, and when I asked him to remove it, he suggested a rather crude way he could cure me of my reluctance. That’s when I rubbed a pastry in his face, and threw ice water on his lap.”

“Well, good for you. How awful that you were let go because of that. I hope you understand that it was illegal for them to terminate your employment. You have grounds to pursue this with legal action.”

I pursed my lips, thinking out loud. “Yes, I’m aware of all that. But in this scenario I’m David and the asswipes are Goliath. I can’t imagine the kind of money it would take to get justice… Sorry, I said asswipes.”

Look up neutrality in the dictionary and you’ll see Miss Leyland’s picture right next to it. “If memory serves, David defeated Goliath,” she said.

“Yes, I know, but David had five stones to take his shot. At the moment I have none.”

I had quietly made peace with the fact that it was four hours’ pay and a ride home for me after this. The only thing left to do was at least acknowledge my lack of expertise in reading to sick people.

“So,” I said, “as much as I love having this opportunity, which incidentally also plays well into my love of reading, I can’t bring much else to the party. And that being the case, I would totally understand if you didn’t think I was suitable.”

Miss Leyland seemed nonplussed by my conclusion and tilted her head as she calmly assessed me. “What would you like to drink, Miss Le Roche, tea or coffee?”

It seemed I was here for however long Miss Leyland saw fit. “Coffee would be terrific, thank you.”

She typed on her phone and smiled serenely at me. “The coffee will be here shortly. Let’s get on with the paperwork, shall we Miss Le Roche?”

And with that she handed me a few documents to peruse. God help me if I EVER crossed these creatures. I tried to read what the hell I was supposed to sign, but the legal jargon escaped me. I should have brought Meg along because she wanted to specialize in contract law. Even if she was still waiting to hear if she passed the bar exam, she’d be on this like white on rice.

The only conclusion I came to was that the job might be mine if I followed the rules and did what I was told. And if signing a zillion documents would put a stable salary in my pocket, I was fine with that.

There was a knock on the door, and Nelson entered with a beautifully prepared tray. A few dreary-looking sugar cookies were arranged on a dessert plate. I almost risked a raised eyebrow, but reined myself in. Not everyone was a baker.

Nelson caught on though and bit a smile. “They’re not your macarons, I know, but what can we do, Mrs. Sheldon tries her best.”

He directed his attention at Miss Leyland. “You might want to check in on the south wing. It’s been very quiet. And the gate is still locked.”

Concern immediately sheathed Miss Leyland’s lovely features. She spiraled up from her chair and grabbed her cell phone. “Please excuse me for a moment, Miss Le Roche,” she said ever-so-politely. “I need to make an urgent phone call.”

My curiosity was triggered by the mention of thesouth wingthough. Good grief, they had wings here? And what was going on in the south wing? It all sounded very mysterious.

Nelson’s voice stirred me from my thoughts. “Would you like cream in your coffee, Isabel?”

“Yes, please… So, I want to thank you for getting Miss Leyland to interview me. I owe you, Nelson. Big time.”

“Nonsense, you owe me nothing. Albert is the one who knows Marguerite, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get you in. I have a good sense of people. Emily does too, but she’s a bit paranoid when it comes to this specific position. Oh, what am I saying, she’s paranoid about everyone who enters this house. That’s why it has been a struggle to find someone suitable to read. I can just feel you’d be perfect.”

Before I could ask who Albert was, Nelson’s phone pinged. He glanced at the message, and smiled at me again. “Miss Leyland is demanding my presence. Enjoy your coffee, and good luck with the rest of the interview.”

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