“Well, I had the interview with Christine Thompson.”
“Oh great! How’d it go?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You probably know it went well.”
“Really?! How?” He acted clueless.
“She mentioned you, Michael. I know you talked to her,” she said accusingly.
He knew she wasn’t impressed.
“Mister Big-Shot just had to stick his nose in it, didn’t he?”
He just looked at her; didn’t say a word.
“It must be nice to always get what you want. You just lift your little finger and everyone does what you ask them to.”
“Pretty much,” he said, without the slightest hint of modesty.
“Oh, you are so cocky.”
He just smiled at that, making her blood boil in the process. She literally just wanted to punch him in the face.
“And, it’s not attractive at all, just so you know.”
“It’s not?” He smiled.
She was lying and she knew it.
“It actually wasn’t like that at all, Angela. I didn’t ask her for anything. I just mentioned that you were going to apply – to keep an eye out. I told her I thought you were great.”
As mad as she was at him, she loved hearing those words come out of his mouth. He thought she was great. She thought he was great too - with the exception of his occasional arrogance, which was starting to completely get on her nerves.
“So you’re not taking the job if you get it?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
“Well... I didn’t exactly say that.”
“You should take it.”
He had only been, after all, trying to do her a favor and she was treating him like a delinquent. She succumbed and gave him a warm smile.
“So where is Dot?” she asked.
“I have no idea where my mother is but you can wait with me if you want. I’m just out in the garden, taking out a few weeds,” he explained.
“Sure.” She tried not to sound too excited but she was ecstatic. She had wanted to go visit the garden since the first day she had seen it, through the study’s windows.
She left her purse in the coat room and followed him to the garden through the back door of the house. They walked on the stone patio and stepped on to what Michael explained was a perennial garden; a wide expanse of grass surrounded by wild flowers. An old birch tree stood in the corner, shading a wood bench. She could see in the distance, a portion of the rest of the garden, which was completely surrounded by tall cedar hedges.
“This is fantastic,” she told him, truly awed. “You didn’t do all this, did you?” she asked; one lone man could not possibly achieve this beauty.
“No. I wish. This garden has been here for over twenty years. It was created by the original owner of the house. He was a landscape architect.”
She took a seat on the bench, taking in the peaceful view. “You were lucky to find this place.”
“The original owner was getting on in age,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “He passed away. His children sold his estate; and divided the profits I suppose.”
“Well, regardless of the circumstances, you have a beautiful place here.”
