As Natalie left her at Adam’s office door, she thought about the commitment she was making. Natalie had said herself that Adam Fletcher was never home, and she’d have to provide round-the-clock care for the children. The thing was, while she knew that she should probably take a job with less work, join a book club, and begin having a social life of some sort, she didn’t really even know how to begin. Where would she go? She didn’t know anyone. She certainly couldn’t go out by herself in a city she didn’t know. So, she decided, for now, taking this job wasn’t so bad, because watching children was comfortable. She knocked on the office door.
“Come in, please,” she heard from the other side and, immediately, nervous energy raced through her fingers. It was probably a good thing that Adam worked all the time. Then she wouldn’t have to run into him as much.
Carrie opened the door to find him sitting behind a shiny, wooden desk, stained dark like everything else in the house. The entire back wall was covered in wood shelving like the playroom, and filled with books. Had he read them all? She wanted to walk closer and inspect the titles. One can learn a lot about a person by what books he reads. A floor lamp that reached upward and then curved toward the workspace cast a glow onto the surface of his desk. On his desk was a single picture frame but the back was to her, and she wondered if it had a photo of his kids. There was a soufflé ramekin next to it and a fork.
Carrie knew her dishes, and soufflés were one of her favorites. She could make sweet ones, spicy ones, savory ones… It didn’t matter, she loved them all.
Adam stood up. He had clearly noticed her looking at the dish. “I tried to make a soufflé,” he smiled sheepishly. “I absolutely love them, but I can’t seem to get it right.”
Upon closer inspection, she realized that he hadn’t eaten the soufflé, it was a withered, yellow spot baked into the bottom of the ramekin. The thought of such a successful person trying unsuccessfully to cook gave her a little punch of amusement, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “They aren’t as fussy as you’d imagine,” she said after recovering. “It’s all about getting enough air in the egg whites, that’s all. I’ll bet you did everything else right.”
For the first time, with a little huff of laughter preceding it, he smiled at her—a big, warm smile—and she reached for the nearest chair to steady herself. Just seeing that smile made her wonder what it would be like to come home to someone in the evenings, have someone like him to talk to, another adult to ask about her day.
“Maybe you can show me how sometime.”
She swallowed so she could get words to come out of her mouth. “I’d love to,” she said.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Natalie’s staying with the children until they’re in bed tonight. You won’t officially start until tomorrow. So, let’s go over your duties.”
Carrie was glad to sit down for two reasons: one, she could rest her hands on her thighs and keep them still, and two, her legs were becoming jellylike from their little soufflé moment. From what she’d seen so far, Adam was kind and warm, but there was something about him that was extremely intimidating. She could tell just by how he held himself, how smart he was and how fierce he probably was at his job. Whatever his career, he’d made a very nice living—so nice even that was intimidating. Carrie had worked for wealthy people before, but never anyone this wealthy. Her own upbringing was so different than this lifestyle, and she feared she may do or say something to draw attention to her different background.
“Shall we jump right in?” he said, forcing her to make eye contact.
“Yes,” she smiled nervously. To her dismay, she could feel the heat rising up her neck, and she knew she must be a splotchy mess. She was perfectly aware of how to sit, how to hold her shoulders, and how to smile to look confident, but her redness always gave her away. Her book didn’t have an answer for that. His expression was softer all of a sudden, as if he were taking her in. It only made her feel more nervous. He saw the red spots, she knew it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I haven’t even given you a moment to get settled. Would you like something to drink?”
Glass of wine? she thought with amusement. She needed something to settle her nerves. If he gave her a glass to hold, she’d probably spill it all over her lap. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, keeping her hands on her thighs.
“Okay then. Well…” He leaned on his desk with his forearms. It reminded her of something she’d read about how waiters should squat down by tables to take people’s orders in restaurants. Their proximity was supposed to put the patrons at ease. Was Adam trying to put her at ease? Could he sense her nervousness?