Making Home Ch. 04

Chapter Four:

ELIJAH CRAWFORD

"So, how'd it go?" Patricia popped her head into the conference room from the hallway.

She has been my most trusted assistant since I first went into business. More along the age of my parents, she has always had a hint of mothering to her. Something I was unused to, but not unwelcomed. I knew she would be checking up on me.

I rubbed a hand over the stubble on my face. "I suppose it went alright. With unconventional advertisements you get unconventional people."

She stepped into the room and hummed. "Yes, that seems to be true. But, that's what you wanted, isn't it? Someone atypical? Someone who might be a little more open to the job?"

"Yeah, that was the idea. But these applicants certainly aren't what I had hoped for."

"Hm." She stepped in and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "That last one, though, what was her name?"

"Avery. Avery Mitts, a senior student at university."

There was a brief pause as she walked to a chair and began to brush the top of the back off. "Well, how about her?"

I frowned as I tried to make sense of her inquiry. "You mean how about her as in how about I hire her?"

She nodded, her expression sincere. "Yes, Eli. Let's hire her."

I blew out a loud breath and coughed out a chuckle. "You're joking, right?"

"I didn't think she seemed too bad." She looked away, a little suspiciously. "She was very sweet."

"Sweet? Pat, you know as well as I do that 'sweet' won't cut it. I mean, on paper she seemed okay, but she was late and improperly dressed. That is really hard for me to get passed. Among other things, as well."

She walked to the window and looked out. "She was late because it was a scheduling error. My fault, not hers."

I laced my fingers and followed her gaze across the darkening town. "She didn't say anything like that."

"Well, it was a mistake. I messed up and she took the hit, I guess. Her email said six thirty and I scheduled her for six. I'm still not used to military time, and it really messes with my scheduling." She huffed out a sigh. "As for sweet? You're lucky to find that quality these days. Most college students are inflated by their egos. That, combined with the stress of trying to figure out life and pass finals, all while being hungover. Don't tell me you don't remember those days." She smirked at me over her shoulder.

I grunted with a shake of my head. "It's not just that. See, I expected that from her, the ego and disorganization of early adulthood. And her thoughts seem well put together, but a little too put together. She also seems skittish or something. I can't place it."

"Too put together? Coming from you?" She laughed.

I shrugged, brushing her off. I didn't need to justify myself to her, but she sure had a way of making me feel like I did. "Besides that, she's much too young. It would be very difficult to pass her off as my partner."

She forced a smile and shook her head. "If you say so."

Pat seldom contradicted me. It was probably why we got along so well. But right now, I can tell she's itching to speak her mind. I slapped a hand on the table. "Go ahead, say it."

She held up her hands and backed away. "Not my place."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache starting to form behind my eyes. "Pat, please just say it. I won't hold it against you."

She scoffed. "Oh, you mean like that time you made me completely alphabetize your accounts payable and then decided you wanted them reversed? All coincidentally after I told you your cologne stunk?"

I chuckled and rubbed my chin while looking out the window. That was a hard day for her. I made her do the task for each one of my businesses as well reassign new reference numbers to reflect the new order. "Fair enough. I'll grant you immunity this time. Just say what it is that you want to say."

"How do I know you mean it?"

I blew out a breath. I was hungry and tired. I wanted to get home instead of arguing with her about this. I sat up and organized the applications, getting them ready to put into my briefcase to look over when I got home.

"I'll text Chloe that I give you immunity for the next ten minutes. You know she'll hold me to it."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "When do you see her next?"

"She's flying in later this month for the holidays. It's just me and her this year. Mom and Dad wanted to spend their holiday out in London."

"Why aren't you two visiting them out there?"

"We're just not." I picked up my phone and typed out the text to my sister. I hit the send button and held the screen up to Patricia. "There. Immunity, like I promised. Now will you please tell me what's on your mind?"

She sighed and took a moment to stare at her feet. With a click of her tongue, she leaned in as if she were confessing a dirty secret, "She's a good fit and you're distrusting. There. I said it." She turned to leave the room.

I sat up. "Excuse me? You think I'm distrusting?"

She stopped and nodded. "Yes." She turned to face me again, her shoulders pulled tight to her neck as she relinquished her thoughts. "I think you let too much of what you've been through affect these types of decisions. When you weren't in the market for a stand-in, you defaulted on women older than you."

"Nothing wrong with older women. Older women are more mature. More of the caregiving nature."

"But I think it's time you stay open-minded to all of your options. The kind of women you are 'supposedly' attracted to? The unattached older women? You have a tendency to default to the ones who seem desperate."

"You think older women are desperate?"

"No. That's not what I said."

"You're an older woman and you don't seem desperate."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "True. But I don't see a need for a relationship. I'm content with my life. Regardless, we're not talking about me. The women you seek out are a different story entirely. Quit trying to deflect."

I thought back to my most recent break-up. It was a bit of a nightmare. She was constantly accusing me of cheating or lying to get out of spending time with her. And there was no amount of discussion that could convince her otherwise. No gesture big enough to reaffirm my affections for her. She was the one that pushed me over the edge to decide to seek out a platonic arrangement.

I swallowed. "I see your point. But this girl," I tapped Avery's application in front of me. "She's too young. I don't have time to hold someone's hand through life. The other applicants seem a bit more stable than her. A little further in life. If I'm being honest, she is my last pick."

Pat threw her hands up in the air. "Well, maybe she needs you, Eli. I can sense it, I know you can too, something is off about that girl. But she also seems sincere, unlike some of the other applicants who are too distracted by your 'debonair smile'. I think you could get along well with this one. I think you could both win in this situation."

"I am looking for an employee, not a charity case." This is why I seldom let her give her opinion. I could feel my blood pressure rising. "You know what, immunity ends now. Go home."

She shook her head and laughed quietly as she turned to leave. "You've got it, boss. But charity cases? They have something to lose, Eli. They won't compromise an arrangement."

"There's too much mystery with her. The other girls are a lot less risky."

"They are completely risky! Are you seriously immune to how they swooned over you?"

"There was no swooning."

"There was plenty of swooning."

I sat up, frustrated with her logic. "I need someone who can handle this workload. And look professional while doing it. Boring is better for professional."

"True. But intrigue is good for business." She reached the door and turned back to look at me. "Maybe a second interview? Pick a few of the applicants and take them to a formal dinner with Anthony and Grace. See how they measure up under the scrutiny of your professional acquaintances. I'll make sure there are no scheduling errors this time so that Avery has an equal opportunity. Then, you can decide."

I mulled over her suggestion. It wasn't a bad idea. I did like the girl, if I wasn't considering her for employment. Regardless of her strange personality, on paper she had great attributes and seemed easily pliable. And being young enough, maybe I could shape her into exactly what I needed for this role. She also wasn't too hard on the eyes, but not stunning to the point where I'd become distracted and obsessed with her.

"That's not too bad of an idea. Schedule a second interview for Avery later this week."

"Just Avery? What about the other applicants?"

"Avery is not the best fit, but I want you off my back. I'll make you a deal. If she passes the test, then she's hired. If she doesn't, then any of the other applicants will do. You can just pick one and I'll hire her."

She nodded. "Very well. Can't say that I'm not surprised."

"Well, you're persistent. And annoying. You're lucky I like you."

She smirked. "Goodnight, Boss."

I watched as she turned to exit the room and I was left to my thoughts.

Avery. She was an interesting little thing, I'll give her that. She had some peculiar answers to my questions, and there was a time she even made me question the other applicants. There was a little bit of defiance to the way she stuck to her logic, but that could be useful if nurtured in the right way. She also seemed confident in some areas, but self-conscious in others. I had quickly taken notice to how she resorted to fidgeting under my scrutiny. It would be a trait I'd have to train out of her, but it also could be useful on a personal level.

The dinner would be a good move. If she could hold her own against Anthony and Grace, then maybe Pat was onto something. If nothing else, it would be refreshing to hire someone atypical. Someone who I was sure I wouldn't become emotionally attached to.

AVERY

The next morning, I woke up to a ping on my phone. Flipping it open, I noticed I had a few new emails and a new text message. I opened up the text to see it was from Caleb.

"Money this Friday or don't come back ever again."

I closed the messaging app and thumbed through my emails. I would deal with that one once I had some coffee in my system. Among the couple of campus emails, there was a new one from Patricia.

Good morning, Ms. Mitts.

Mr. Crawford would like to invite you to a second interview this evening. Are you available? The reservation is for 700pm.

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Patricia

A second interview! I had thought that I completely bombed it when I walked out last night, especially when he wished me luck. I sat up in bed and looked at my schedule. I didn't have any late-night lab finals. It would be cutting into my study time to meet with him, but I could spare an hour or two. I typed in a reply that tonight would work for me. I got out of bed and noticed that Jess was still asleep. I tiptoed to our bathroom across the hall and turned the shower on, letting the steam whirl around me as I stripped off my pajamas. When I finished getting cleaned up, I checked my phone and noticed that Patricia had replied.

Ms. Mitts,

Mr. Crawford will be picking you up at 645pm at the address you listed on your application. Please dress appropriately for Nonna Leoni's.

Best,

Patricia

Nonna Leoni's? I had never been there before. I googled the restaurant and up popped a high-end Italian place with a dress code. Crap. Still wrapped in my towel, I flipped through my wardrobe trying to find something I could wear to the interview that evening. I would be getting out of work with just enough time to head home and change before he picked me up.

I didn't have the formal dress attire that was required. But if I was dressed professionally, perhaps they would still let me in. As I thumbed through the few items I did have, I debated whether I should run to the mall and pick up something. I didn't have time, but I didn't even have something passable as professional that didn't qualify as grandma fashion. At the same time, I didn't have money to buy any new clothes, especially expensive formal wear. Eventually I just pulled dress slacks and a cream-colored blouse to lay across my bedspread while I rummaged my chest of drawers for dress socks. By this time, Jess was waking up and had begun to watch me in my frantic search.

"Got a hot date tonight, or what?"

"What?" I turned around to look at her while an image of Mr. Crawford dressed to impress popped into mind. I shook my head. "No, a job interview tonight."

Her eyebrows went up. "The one you applied to?"

"Yep."

"Avery! That's awesome." She rubbed the fatigue from her eyes, picked up her phone, and fell back onto her bed. "I promise I'm excited, I'm just really tired from last night. Pulled an all nighter. Does it make more than the library?"

"Yeah, it's live-in with wages on top of it. The interview is at Nonna Leoni's."

She sat up and looked at my outfit. "Nonna Leoni's? Well, you can't wear that."

I worked my bottom lip. I already knew that, but what choice did I have? "It's all I have."

Her brows pulled up in a look of sympathy. "You can't wear that, seriously."

I folded my arms in front of my chest and looked at her. "If they really want me for this job, then they won't care what I'm dressed like."

"And if they do care?"

"Then I don't want to work for him."

She smirked at me. "You say that, but I have a feeling that you really want this job."

I plopped down onto my bed. "I do. But what choice do I have? I don't have time to go shopping and the interview is tonight." And I'm flat broke.

Her eyes bored into mine. "You have to wear a dress and heels. I've been there a few times with my parents. Trust me on this." She rolled off her bed before springing up and walking to her own closet. "You can borrow something of mine. We're just about the same size. Call me your fairy fucking Godmother."

I laughed. "If you completely ignore my chest then, sure, we're close to the same size. Jess, your boobs are like double what mine are. Where I have lemons, you have grapefruits."

She waved a hand at me. "I have something that you don't need boobs for. Hold on."

Thanks. But I couldn't complain too much. I was thankful that she was going to be able to save me (and my wallet) a trip to the mall. She moved around a bunch of clothes until she found what she was searching for. It was a small black thigh-length dress. The stretchy material gave the impression that it would hug all of the right places. I held it up against me and looked at myself in her full-length mirror. It wasn't terrible. The dress was modern enough to be trendy, yet conservative enough to be elegant. I had to hand it to her, it was perfect. I just hoped I filled it out enough.

Her face appeared in the mirror over my shoulder. "This is the one. Maybe you should even keep it. It'll give my mom an excuse to take me shopping again. I have some heels that match. What size are you?"

"Seven."

"I'm a seven and a half. They'll feel a little loose but should still get the job done." She turned around and was in her closet again but this time bending to the floor. She popped up. "Aha! These ones."

I smiled weakly as I accepted the footwear from her. "Thank you. So much. I really appreciate it."

She waved a hand in front of her face and blew a raspberry. "Don't be silly." She turned and grabbed a lock of my hair and ran it gently between her fingers. "Do you want me to do your hair, too?" She leaned in, close enough for me to smell her morning breath, and narrowed her eyes at my face. "We should probably also pluck your eyebrows. And you should wear some make-up, too."

I inwardly cringed as I looked up at her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She let out an exaggerated mischievous laugh before taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom. "Honestly, what girl doesn't?"

Honestly? This one. After an hour of poking, prodding, and plucking, Jess had deemed me 'interview worthy' and left me to get ready for her study session. It was pretty brutal, if I'm being honest, but I had to hand it to her. I looked good. I felt like I looked good. This should have been how I looked for the first interview, but at least I was getting a second chance. I smiled at myself in the mirror, noticing how she had outlined my eyes and curled my lashes. My dark hair was carefully styled into a half-up do with bouncy waves that rested on my shoulders. If I was careful at work, I could come home and not have to do more than change into my dress before Mr. Crawford picked me up. This time my interview was going to go well. It had to.