When Winter Blooms

I almost turned back in the elevator.

I'm not even joking, I was standing there on the forty-second floor, watching the numbers climb, and I genuinely considered pressing the lobby button and telling the agency I got food poisoning or something. 

But I needed this job badly, So I fixed my blazer, told myself to act like a person who had it together, and waited for the doors to open.

They opened directly into the apartment.

I stepped out and immediately felt like I'd walked into a photo shoot that hadn't started yet. 

Everything was white and grey and expensive-looking. 

A kitchen that had probably never been used. Furniture that looked like it had been placed with a ruler.

Not a single crayon anywhere.  Not a small shoe left in the middle of the floor the way every child I'd ever worked with left their shoes in the middle of the floor.

I was starting to wonder if the four-year-old was fictional when I heard footsteps.

He came from a hallway to the right. Tall, putting on a dark suit. 

He was looking at his phone. He didn't look up immediately, and I stood there holding my folder and wondered if I was supposed to say something or just wait.

He looked up.

"Miss Reyes."

"Yes, that's me. Hi." I almost put my hand out and then didn't because he'd already turned and walked toward the sitting area.

 I followed him.

We sat across from each other at a coffee table so clean it made me feel personally judged. He set his phone face-down and looked at me properly for the first time.

"The agency sent your references," he said.

"Right, yes. I have copies if you...."

"I read them."

"Okay." I put the folder on my lap. 

"Good."

"Mm." He looked at me wondering if I was the right person for the job. 

"Previous experience, three years with the Harmon family?"

"Three and a half. I left when the youngest started school full-time."

"Before that you were training as a child counselor."

"I had to stop." I didn't explain further. He didn't ask. 

"I appreciated that."

"Do you drive?"

"Yes."

"Any objection to an NDA?"

"No."

He nodded. Then he was quiet for a moment, and I had the sense that the interview portion was over and something else was beginning. He shifted slightly, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and looked at the coffee table between us instead of at me.

"Lily is four," he said. 

"She's adjusting. This year has been difficult for her." He stopped. 

"Her mother passed away fourteen months ago."

"I know, the brief mentioned it." I paused. 

"I'm sorry."

"Yes." He said. 

"The role is live-in." He glanced at me. 

"I understand if that's not.."

"It's fine, I don't have anything keeping me in a specific place right now."

He looked at me carefully, but he didn't say anything about it. 

"You'd have your own room, meals are separate, I don't