“Amy Lynne Beck,” she said, giving my hand a limp shake. “Call me Amy or Amy Lynne or whatever.”
She was smiling, but I could tell by her eyes that she was a bundle of nerves. Gail hadn’t told me much about her background other than that she was young, divorced, and struggling to get by.
“Lizzie is asleep in my office, but we can talk in the den.”
I led her into the den and invited her to sit on the sofa while I took the chair across from her. I gave her a moment to get settled and then cleared my throat and tried to remember how to have an adult conversation.
“So, Amy Lynne, tell me a little bit about yourself,” I said, doing my best to be a pleasant host.
“Well, um, I’m twenty-three, divorced. I work at Bud’s Convenience Store on 12th. I’m taking online classes to become a bookkeeper…”
“Ah, so you’re good with numbers?”
She gave me a blank look. “Good with numbers?”
“You’re studying to become a bookkeeper,” I said. “I assume that means you’re good with numbers.”
“Oh, no, not really. I suck at math.” Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away. I could tell she was mentally kicking herself. I resisted the urge to smile.
“So, exactly why are you taking bookkeeping if you suck at math?”
“Because the online classes are offered by the state and they say they will help me get a job once I complete the curriculum,” she said, her pretty forehead furrowing. “And they don’t offer physical therapy classes, so, yeah.”
“Ah, so you don’t want to be a bookkeeper. You want to be a physical therapist.” I gave her a silly look. “Now it all makes sense.”
She blinked at me a couple of times, and then her lips curled into a smile. She seemed to relax a bit. Her neck came out of her shoulders and the edge left her eyes.
She said, “I went to school for two years to become a physical therapist. Then I met my ex-husband and my plans just sort of fell to the wayside.”
I noticed her mood darken at the mention of her ex. I wanted to dig for more dirt, perhaps compare shitty spouse stories, but I thought I’d better let it go for now. I switched gears.
“Well, I appreciate you coming over to interview for the position,” I said, turning to business and away from personal issues. “To be perfectly honest, I’ve already talked to a number of candidates a service sent over and none of them were very impressive. I’m probably overprotective when it comes to Lizzie, but I have to make sure the person I choose to look after her will treat her with the same level of love and care that I do.”
“You can never be too protective of your kids,” she said quietly. “Especially little girls. There are so many heartless people in the world.”
I took that as a reference to the fact that the world was full of little boys who would someday grow up to be big men who could either make a woman’s dreams come true or be the stuff of their nightmares. Again, I didn’t dig. Her issues were hers, my issues were mine. So long as her issues didn’t affect my daughter, I had no right to pry. Besides, everybody has issues. The difference between us is how we deal with them. When it comes to women, men can be aggressors or protectors, or sometimes both. Either way we don’t want to hear about a woman’s problems. We just want to solve them and get laid for our efforts. Fuck, I was writing stories in my mind again. I cleared my throat and moved on.
I said, “You should know that the only reason I’m talking to you is because Gail says you hung the moon.” That made her smile modestly. “She said she would trust you with her own kids, and Gail is as protective of Lizzie as I am, so I take that as the ultimate recommendation.”
“Oh, I love kids,” she said, trying to hold the smile. I could tell she was nervous. Her hands were in her lap and she kept wringing her fingers together. I’d intimidated her enough.
“That’s good to know,” I said. “Do you have any experience as a nanny at all?”
“Well, not formally,” she said. “But I was kind of the neighborhood babysitter growing up. And sometimes I watch the kids for the single moms who live in my building. I love kids. I really do. I’ve always wanted kids of my own, so…”
I’d sweated her enough. If Gail believed she could do the job, that was good enough for me. I rubbed my hands together and said, “So, let me tell you about my daughter.” Just the thought of Lizzie always brought a smile to my face. Maybe soon, it would do the same for her.
“She just turned two. She’s very smart, very inquisitive, very chatty in her own little language. She loves Barney and baby dolls and dancing while standing on daddy’s toes.”
I had to pause to brush a tear from my eye.
“She sounds wonderful,” she said with a comforting look.