stood silently for a moment just looking at Emmet, more for dramatic effect than anything. I didn’t want to seem desperate for the job and answer too quickly. I couldn’t think of any questions. His dissertation was quite complete—besides, he clearly expressed he didn’t relish providing instruction. “What time Sunday would be convenient?” I replied.
Emmet smiled and reached out to shake my hand.
6
As I sat in the hotel room sipping coffee and anticipating my day, I couldn’t believe my excitement. At 5 am I was completely packed and ready to leave. When Emmet said “anytime is good” I didn’t think he meant before sunrise. My plan was to go after 8:00 Mass. I just couldn’t sleep anymore.
Susan was the only one at the house when I arrived. She was fixing a special dinner for my first night even though it was her day off. How welcoming. Susan looked to be in her mid-fifties. She had shoulder length gray hair, a warm smile, and tired eyes that indicated life had not been kind to her.
The kitchen was her kingdom. She prided herself on being a gourmet cook and admitted she was addicted to the cooking channel, soap operas, and crossword puzzles. She had a laugh that was contagious and a quick sarcastic wit. I could tell we would get along famously even though I did not share any of the addictions she confessed.
Monday, Emmet set up a one-hour window to answer any questions I had. I spent time last night compiling a comprehensive list. I had a feeling I wouldn’t get this chance again. The bus arrived at 8:21 daily. Emmet accompanied the boys to the end of the driveway and waited until the bus departed. We were to start our meeting promptly at 8:30.
I woke up early and ran for thirty minutes. It completely rejuvenated me. I was back at the house with plenty of time to shower and have breakfast ready for the boys and Emmet. I wished them a good day and sat at the kitchen table with my cup of coffee and note pad of questions. I was positioning myself in the kitchen in hopes we could meet here in a more equitable environment instead of sitting in his office—Emmet at his big desk and me in the small uncomfortable chair that leaned toward its short leg.
Emmet entered the kitchen at 8:29. I waited for him to sit, crossing my fingers so he wouldn’t motion to the office. Although Emmet was clearly more comfortable being in control, I wanted him to know I was no shrinking violet. I was careful not to sound formal in my communication, wanting to sound like a day care provider and not an attorney. Without the children present it was more difficult than I had anticipated.
“Thanks for the time this morning, Emmet. Since we only have about an hour I have some questions to run through so I can understand the guidelines. If you can be patient giving me guidelines, I can make better judgments on how you want me to handle your affairs.” Affairs, that wasn’t the right word. I should have said household…or home.
“Go on,” he said, looking intrigued by my take-charge attitude.
“The first and most obvious question is boundaries. Please tell me either what you do or don’t want me to stick my nose into, whichever list is shorter.” That sounded informal; not at all like an attorney during a cross-examination.
“Not much is off limits to you, Annie. After all, you do live here now. Rooms first; if my office door is closed and you need me, just knock and come in. Don’t wait for an answer. If my bedroom door is closed and you need me, knock and wait for an answer. No need for any embarrassing situations. I’ll reciprocate for your privacy of course. Susan uses a bedroom on the first floor when I travel. For your own safety, you should avoid it.” He smirked.
“My computer is off limits to everyone. That’s to protect me from losing data. There is a family computer for the boys in Josh’s room. Susan has her own. I have another laptop for you to use if you need one. My assistant at the office, Amanda, handles all my business emails. She’ll email anything personal requiring your attention. You’ll need to provide your email address to me.”
“Email address? I’ll have to set one up…”
“You don’t have email?” He asked, furrowing his brow.
I’m Amish? “Oh, I um well…I’m…I’m more of a text messenger than an e-mailer. You know, too much spam.” Well that was smooth. I’ve gone from informal to inarticulate in less than six minutes. Who doesn’t use email, I thought! Vagrants and comatose patients, that’s who…even incarcerated criminals have email. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe the spam excuse.
“I’ll have Amanda set up a company email account for you. It will be more efficient having you on the distribution list.”
“Expeditious, I agree.” There I go, swinging back to my ten-dollar words. I need to watch it or Emmet is going to think I have multiple personality disorder!
He raised his eyebrows momentarily and then continued. “There is one locked drawer in my office, three safes, and one locked dresser drawer in my bedroom. Everything else you have access to.”
“Where do you keep all the service agreements, household contracts, warrantees, et al?”
“Those are all in the lower file-cabinet in my office.”
“Any pet peeves I should be aware of ?”
“Yes, answering detailed questions and I’m not a big fan of oatmeal.” “Very funny; you gave me an hour remember.”
“Continue.”
“Is the security guard armed?”
“You have an interesting order to your questions, Annie.”
“No order. I just wrote them down…stream of consciousness.”
“The security guard is armed, but he is there mostly for privacy.”
“Mostly?” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Next question, Annie.”
“Is there anyone I need to be aware of that shouldn’t be on the grounds or around the boys?” I could tell he realized this was just a follow-up question to find out what “mostly” meant. He didn’t look annoyed that I didn’t let it go. Maybe he even respected my tenacity.
“Interesting question. Annie, you aren’t from here so let me share. My law firm works with many high-profile clients in corporate espionage and competitive intelligence. At times, the cases become highly publicized which puts me in the paper and on television. Occasionally, that attracts the attention of people I wish it wouldn’t, including the press. When they can’t reach our clients, they invade my privacy, which unfortunately brings the children into the public eye.”
“Do you have any weapons in the house? Guns, knives, hand grenades?”
“Seriously?”
“Well, partially seriously. Emmet, I am in charge of the safety of your children at least some of the time. I need to know what is around the house that is potentially dangerous. I’m doing my due diligence.” Due diligence—what daycare worker uses that kind of phrase? I need to practice being conversational…think daycare worker; kid-friendly communication.
Emmet cleared his throat before he answered. “Yes, I have weapons. They are all secure in my wall safe in my bedroom. I’ll show them to you if you like.”
