She gestures toward one of the sofas.
I sit.
She takes the seat opposite me, just as composed.
“Miss Vale,” she says, folding her hands neatly in her lap, a controlled smile forming on her lips, “before we begin, there are a few things I should mention that were not included in the advertisement.”
“Yes,” I say, glancing at her, then down at myself.
I’m not dressed for this. My dress is wrinkled, the fabric creased from too many hours on the bus, and the blazer still has a faint scent of salt.
“The job requires you to house-sit for ninety days,” she starts. “You aren’t permitted to leave the town, nor have visitors. The only people with access to the house are the gardener and myself.”
Her voice stays even.
“There was a tragedy here a year ago,” she continues, “so the owner is currently away.”
She exhales, softer this time.
“Every thirty days, you will receive money for groceries and anything else you may need. Our gardener, Victor, and I will come by every Wednesday. He maintains the garden and will drive you into town, help you get what you need, and bring you back.”
I blink twice, my hands resting still in my lap.
“The owner is a good man,” she adds, her tone shifting just slightly, “but he is still… affected by what happened. He expects his house to be treated as a home.”
“Of course,” I say, drawing my hands closer together.
“Very well.” She rises from her seat. “The job is yours.”
She extends her hand.
When I place mine in hers, her grip tightens around my hand.
“Out of all the candidates,” she holds my gaze, “you were the most suitable.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me show you the house.”
“I’ll take you to your room so you can settle in.”
I follow her.
“This room is more of a lounge,” she says as we pass through, then continues down the hallway toward the large glass doors. “And this leads to the garden.”
I glance outside.
The man is there again. He lifts his hand, waving.
“That’s Victor. The sweetest soul.” Her voice drops for a moment before she straightens and keeps walking.
She moves to the left side of the hall and opens the first door, stepping aside at the frame.
I walk closer and look in.
“This is the kitchen and dining area for staff,” she explains. “Since you are staff, you are permitted to cook and eat here.”
She gestures slightly.
