the table and joined her baby. “I’m sitting, my love.”
Oscar’s lip curled in a satisfied smile, and he patted the table next to her. “Mama sitting,” he said softly.
Meredith took a bite and spoke through a mouthful. “You are so sweet, little buddy. I love you so much.”
“Love you, Mama.”
After Meredith loaded her plate and silverware into the dishwasher, carried Oscar to their room, and read him four stories, he finally crashed. She held him tucked against her for a moment, smelling his sweet baby-shampoo smell. When it was safe to slide away from him, she tiptoed out of the room.
Because there was no opportunity for privacy in the McCormick house, Meredith walked out the front door and headed for the Mickey Shunick Memorial. She’d brought her phone and the scrap of paper from the job flyer.
Staring down at it, Meredith doubted it would amount to anything. She’d have to get back in her car and head across town to Super One Foods to try there.
“Might as well get on with it.” She dialed the number and waited as it rang through. On the third ring, Meredith prepared herself to leave a voicemail. Leaving voicemails sucked. It made her nervous. She sounded stupid, and knowing that she sounded stupid made her do stupid things like forgetting to say her name or tripping over her phone number.
She was working herself up to a pre-voicemail fit when someone answered.
“Hello?” The voice was male, young, and it sounded confused.
Meredith checked the number again before speaking. “Um… hi. I’m calling about the job? The personal assistant job?” She hated the way she’d turned her sentences into questions. It was a job. She wanted it. Why couldn’t she sound certain?
“You are?”
Meredith blinked. He sounded even less certain than she did. Which made her suspicious.
“Um… yeah. There is a job, right? Not a scam?”
“A scam?” Humor entered his voice, and for some reason this eased her suspicions. If someone were scamming her, he’d sound serious. Right?
“Yeah, you know, like those job listings that say Earn $5,000 a week, and when you go online to apply for the job, it’s really a weight-loss supplement, and they ask for your credit-card number, and before you know it, your credit card’s been charged like eight hundred dollars.”
Meredith stopped talking. She’d stopped talking because she started hearing how she sounded, and if the man on the other end was in the position to give her a job for real, she needed to sound less weird.
“Wow… you really know a lot about that. Did that happen to you?” he asked.
“What? N-no,” she stammered. “I just don’t want that to happen. Not that it would happen. I mean, I don’t even have a credit card, and who’s stupid enough to put down their credit card number when they’re applying for a job anyway…”
It was happening again. Train wreck. Meredith tried to get it under control. “I mean… the job… if it’s real… I’d like some information.”
She heard laughter on the other end of the line.
Great. I’m never getting a job again.
“I’m sorry. The job is real. I was just surprised to hear back so fast. I just put up those flyers this morning, and you’re the first person to call.”
“Really?” She knew she sounded way too excited, but her gut was telling her that whatever this was, it wasn’t a scam.
“Really. My name’s Baxter Blakewood. To whom am I speaking?”
Proper grammar. No one running a scam would ask “To whom am I speaking?” Baxter Blakewood sounded cultured and sophisticated. Exactly like someone who needed a personal assistant. A little spot of hope pressed against her chest.
“Meredith Ryan. I’m a nursing student at UL, and I saw your sign in Wharton Hall.”
“A nurse?” Mr. Blakewood asked, sounding intrigued.
“Just a student. First year,” she said.
“Still…” he murmured. Something in his tone made her frown.
“What…what exactly would you be needing?”
Silence.
“Well… the job… would require someone who could run errands. Trips to the grocery store, to the dry cleaners… That sort of thing. Running errands and taking care of a few chores.”
So far, so good.
“Okay… what else?”
Again, silence.
“Well… how do you feel about dogs?”
Meredith thought about Zabby, the black Scottish terrier she hadn’t seen in almost two years — which made her think of Becca. She’d seen her sister since her parents kicked her out, but only because Becca would sneak behind their backs and meet her at CC’s or the mall or at the movies once every few months. They had to be careful, though.