“And how did you learn about the administrative coordinator position?”
“Base command at my old post at Coronado, San Diego, referred me here. I went back there looking for work after a long hiatus and they referred me to the Black Heart Tactical Training Facility.”
He flipped a printout of her application to the other side. The work history side.
She braced herself for what Gabe would find. Her work history looked…unstable.
His gaze met hers. “Tell me about some of your previous positions. It seems like you took a break from the workforce. Then you moved around a lot.”
She pulled in a deep breath. “After my husband passed…I took some time off.”
There it was. The look of sympathy—compressed lips, creases deepening around Gabe’s eyes. A look she’d seen over and over again, but not one she wanted. She didn’t want to be known as the widow of a Navy SEAL.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Davis.”
“Please. Just Zee.” Hearing people call her Mrs. Davis hurt her heart.
He ducked his head. “Zee.”
She drew another deep breath and continued. “I had been working on base in Coronado. Administrative support. Scheduling, personnel paperwork, training documentation. When he passed, I…stepped away for a while.”
She kept her voice even, but the memories closed in anyway. The knock on the door. The quiet voice of the military commander giving her the news. The folded flag.
Zee pushed the images back before they could take over.
“Eventually the bills had to be paid. But by then, I was living off base. So I started taking short-term positions.”
That wasn’t the entire story, but this was a job interview, not a personal accounting of her life.
Gabe studied her resume again, tapping a finger lightly on the page. “You didn’t stay anywhere very long.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “No. I didn’t.”
She had so many fresh starts she was a pro at those too. And if she didn’t get this job, she’d be moving out of her Airbnb and leaving the small town of Willowbrook, Wyoming in the morning.
Gabe leaned back slightly in his chair. “Well, this facility will run a little differently than a traditional base.”
She waited.
“We’re gearing up. Once the mountain warfare program starts, we’ll have active-duty units cycling through here year-round. Your job would involve coordinating training schedules, housing assignments, arranging transports, equipment logs. That sort of thing. It’s going to take someone who’s organized.”
“I’m familiar with all of those tasks.”
He glanced at her resume and then closed the folder. “I can see that.” He paused as if casting around for ways to tell her to hit the road. “The issue is we need someone who plans to be here long-term.”
His words hit her square in the chest.
She folded her hand tighter. “If you hire me, I’ll commit to six months.”
Gabe lifted a brow.
She hurried on. “There’s a government clause in the contract, isn’t there? Administrative staff tied to the facility during the first operational cycle must stay in the position for six months.”
A slow smile crept across his face. “You read the entire contract.”
“I always do.”
He nodded, clearly impressed. “Six months will carry us through the first rotation.”
