Not for the first time, he wondered why kids didn’t come with instruction manuals.
“Anyway, you forget,” he told her, pulling away from the curb, “I had to bring you home so that we could meet the new housekeeper.”
“Housekeeper,” she repeated in a mocking tone. “You know that you’re really getting her so you have someone to watch over me,” she accused.
“In part,” Steve allowed, unwilling to lie to his daughter. He had always been honest with Stevi, and until a little while ago, that had been enough. It was the reason they had a bond. But these days, it seemed as if nothing was working, and he felt, rightly or wrongly, that it was his fault.
“I don’t need to be watched,” Stevi informed him indignantly, continuing her thought. “I’m too old to have a babysitter.”
“She’s a housekeeper,” Steve stressed. “And her job is to run the household. You just happen to be part of it.”
Stevi’s face hardened. “She can’t tell me what to do,” the young girl insisted.
“Stephanie,” he began, taking great pains to call her by the name she professed to prefer, “I expect you to be polite to the woman.”
“You mean you expect me to do what she says,” Stevi corrected.
“What I expect, Stephanie, is for you not to give me a headache,” he told her, the last of his patience slipping away.
Reaching the house, he left his car parked in the driveway and went inside with his daughter.
When had parenting become so difficult? he wondered. He and Stevi had always gotten along, even right after her mother died. Stevi had been only four and they’d helped one another, supporting each other whenever the other was down and really needed it. Where had all that gone?
He was about to say something else to Stevi when he heard the doorbell ring. It pushed his train of thought into the background. For now, he tabled the rest of what he wanted to say.
“Remember,” he warned his daughter in a lowered tone, “be polite.”
“Only if she is,” Stevi said, just as he opened the door.
He gave his daughter a warning glance before turning to look at Mrs. Parnell and the housekeeper she had brought with her.
Steve found himself tongue-tied, staring at the woman beside Mrs. Parnell. Although no actual description had been given, for some reason he had expected this latest candidate for housekeeper to be like the others: another middle-aged woman in sensible shoes, with a somewhat expanding waistline and a pasted-on smile that ended before ever reaching her eyes.
Instead, the woman beside Mrs. Parnell was a blue-eyed blonde who might have been twenty-five or so. She was slender and there was nothing sensible about her shoes—or the rest of her, for that matter. She was wearing high heels and looked as if she was about to go out on a date, not a job interview. And since nothing had actually been settled between himself and Mrs. Parnell, that was what this actually was. A job interview.
“Mr. Holder,” Celia said, addressing him formally for the sake of the interview, “I’d like you to meet Rebecca Reynolds.” Celia smiled broadly at the young woman. There was a great deal of pride in her manner. “Rebecca is one of my best employees.”
Steve was still at a loss for words. He knew that Mrs. Parnell had brought the woman here to be a housekeeper, but the more he looked at her, the more she just didn’t seem like the type.
When his tongue finally came back to life and reengaged with his brain, he heard himself asking, “You’re a cleaning lady?”
Rather than be insulted by the demotion, Becky smiled. “My mother would prefer the term ‘maintenance engineer,’” she said with a soft laugh. “But yes, in simple terms, I’m a cleaning lady. Mrs. Parnell said the position you’re looking to fill is housekeeper.”
“You have any experience?” The question didn’t come from Steve, but from his daughter, who was regarding this new woman Mrs. Parnell had brought into her life with a great deal of suspicion.
To Rebecca’s credit, Steve noticed that she didn’t balk at having his daughter ask her a question.
“Yes, three years’ worth,” she replied.
“As a housekeeper?” Stevi asked, eyeing her closely as she grilled her.
“Stev—Stephanie,” Steve corrected, not wanting his daughter to go off on another tangent, “I’ll handle the questions.”
“I don’t mind answering,” Becky told him calmly. “This would actually be my first job as a housekeeper. But that would entail cleaning and cooking, and I can do both. I’ve done both before.”
“You’d also have to watch my daughter...” Steve felt bound to tell her that.
Stevi instantly took offense. “I don’t need watching,” she declared.
He was about to ask her to go to her room, but the woman interjected before he could send her off.
“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Becky told the girl. “You don’t need someone telling you what to do, do you, Stephanie?” Turning away from her very good-looking, would-be new employer, she focused strictly on the little girl. “You look as if you’re perfectly capable of watching out for yourself. I’d just be here in case you needed me,” she explained. “It would be more to set your father’s mind at ease than anything else.”
Stevi said nothing. She continued to study this housekeeping candidate as if trying to make up her mind whether she was being misled, or if this new woman might wind up being an ally.
Finally, Stevi nodded and said to Becky, “I guess that’s okay.”
“Well, Mr. Holder?” Celia asked, speaking up after quietly watching all three parties interacting with one another. It was easy to see that she was pleased with the way this was going. “Are you willing to give Rebecca a trial run? Say, for about two weeks?” she suggested, observing Steve’s face.
“Two weeks,” Steve repeated, as he rolled the words over in his mind. He was secretly stunned that it was so easy. Considering the way she’d been acting lately, he thought his daughter would fight this new setup tooth and nail. “Yes, I think I can do that. Two weeks should be enough time to find out if we can all work together,” he concluded, giving his daughter a quick side glance.
“What about you, Stephanie?” Becky asked the little girl. “Do two weeks work for you?”
“Me?” Stevi asked, clearly surprised that she was actually being consulted in this decision by the grown-ups. “Um, yes—I guess so,” she added, no doubt not wanting to seem too pleased to have her opinion matter.
But she was.
“Then I guess this is settled,” Celia declared happily. She turned toward Steve. “Until you decide this isn’t working out, I now pronounce you housekeeper and boss.”
“And charge,” Becky added.
“What’s a ‘charge’?” Stevi asked, apparently wondering if she should be taking offense.
“You.” The warmth of Becky’s smile defused any indignation that Stevi was debating harboring.
“I’ll walk you to the door, Mrs. Parnell,” Steve offered, turning toward the woman. “I’ve got to get back to work soon, anyway.” Once in the entry, he lowered his voice. “Isn’t she kind of young to be doing this kind of thing? I thought she’d be...”
“Older?” Celia asked, trying to supply the word he was looking for.
But