beyond your scope, or if it’s a personal conflict between two employees or if an employee needs a leave of absence, for example, you would involve human resources. You’d also have a database of licensed therapists, psychologists, and even psychiatrists at your disposal, who are available for them to see by appointment.”
“So if I think someone needs intensive help, I can make that happen.”
“Yes, and I suspect far quicker than you’d be able to do in the public sector.”
“That’s kind of great,” I murmured.
“But really, the only thing you need your master’s for is so that you can offer psychotherapy and do clinical interventions.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that,” I assured him.
“I’m sure there is, but what I mean to say is that you’re more than qualified to be a life skills counselor with your bachelor’s. It’s not a position you need to be licensed for.”
“Understood.”
“It sounds like something you’d be good at, even though I know you think adults might think you’re too young.”
I shrugged. “Maybe if I’m dressed like a grown-up too, that might help.”
When he turned to look at me, I noted the smile. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“Try not to be a huge wiseass, all right?”
“I make no promises,” he assured me, turning onto the 1600 block of 11th Street.
“Oh, this is awesome.” I already loved the front of the building. It was covered in a mural of sea life and appeared to be an homage to Wyland and his Whaling Walls.
“Wait, this can’t be it.” Cameron sounded somewhat horrified, looking left and then right, when a woman suddenly appeared in the driver’s side window, smiling wide.
“Roll down your window; you’re being rude,” I directed him.
“No, no, no.” He was muttering under his breath, but smiled wide as the window lowered. “Hello, are you Agatha?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, beaming at him. “You must be Cameron, and this, then, is Jeremiah.” She was practically cooing as she brushed curly red hair away from her freckled face. From her deep dimples and belted bohemian blouse, down to her long, flowing rainbow-hued skirt and wooden clogs, she had me ready to move in today. “I promise not to nickname you Bullfrog,” she chirped, and then chuckled at her own joke.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I promised her back.
“Oh-so charming” was the reply before she turned to Cameron and ordered him to open the back door so she could slide right in and direct us.
He almost whined as she used the clicker in her hand to open the gate. Once she was in the seat behind him, the patchouli and jasmine wafting off her filled the car.
I snorted, I couldn’t help it, and watched as he pressed his lips together tight.
“You’re going to go straight, over those cobblestones”—she pointed—“and all the way to the back on the left. It’s a corner unit, so you have a lovely back patio that’s a bit overgrown at the moment, I’ll admit, but there’s a very primordial feel to it, if you know what I mean.”
Cameron’s right eye, the one I could see, was beginning to twitch.
“Your neighbor on the left, Leilani, she makes these amazing windchimes, and there are, I want to say, twenty or so hanging on her patio, as well as in her trees. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to move some to your patio or trees if you like.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat.
“Naheer, on your right, he keeps bees that produce the best honey you’ve ever tasted. He also has an enormous tabby named Oscar, who only has three legs. He wanders a bit sometimes, so if he pops onto your patio, just tell him to go home.” She laughed then, and it was a deep, throaty sound. “You know, of course, I’m talking about the cat wandering, not Naheer.”
“We did.” I vouched for Cameron too, since he seemed beyond speech at the moment. “I love all the trees; it’s like you drive through the front gate and right into another world.”
“That’s exactly how my mother wanted it to feel,” she told me. “The property originally belonged to my great-grandfather. Of course, it was a brothel back then. After that, it was a bed-and-breakfast, and then it was my mother who turned it into apartments in hopes of building a community of artisans. She’s the one who did the mural.”
“How do you keep the colors so vibrant?”
“Oh, we restore it every few years.” She leaned forward to put her hand on my shoulder. “‘We’ meaning my