Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [108]
He squeezed her shoulders. “Yes.”
“Here goes.” She hit SEND. “I did it!” She threw up her arms. “And now the job offers will come rolling in,” he teased. “So will the money.”
“Ready for cookies?” Ann asked, stepping into the room.
Katy turned and rose from the chair. “Yes, they smell delicious. But do you mind if we eat them downstairs? We’re finished here.”
“Those look delicious,” Jake said, then leaned over his computer and placed it in sleep mode.
“Yes, let’s go downstairs.” Ann gave a relieved smile.
As they followed her down the stairs, Katy basked in the approval she’d seen in Ann’s eyes. It wasn’t that Jake’s family was hard to please, but just that she’d already made so many mistakes. She prayed that placing that ad on the Internet would not be another one.
Katy was cleaning at the retirement center for Mrs. Kline when she felt her apron pocket vibrate. Setting aside her dusting mop, she punched a button and placed her phone to her ear. “Oh hi, Jake.”
“You want to be a working woman?”
She chuckled. “I am one. I’m working right now.”
“I mean every day.”
Excitement coursed through her veins and quickened her pulse. “Someone answered my ad?”
“You have three replies. Want me to read them to you?”
She gave a happy sigh, as she imagined him sitting at his computer, his broad shoulders bent over his desk while working on her behalf—a rakish agent with his tousled hair and lopsided grin. “Yes.”
“‘Elderly woman needs a housekeeper for two days a week. Small house. Can pay $12 an hour. Barbara White.’ And she leaves her phone number.”
Katy found a pen and pad on Mrs. Kline’s desk and scribbled the information. “Interesting that she needs two days with a small house. Okay next.”
“‘Can hire for one day a week at $10. Widower with three children. Harry Chalmers.’”
“Not as appealing.” But she jotted down his information anyway. “Go on.”
“‘Looking for housekeeper. Can pay good.’ No phone number. You’ll have to e-mail that one back to get more information.”
“Great, thanks,” Katy said. “So what are you doing home in the middle of the day?”
“Figuring a blueprint. Pricing a job. A referral from Mr. Weaver.”
“That’s good. Guess we better both get back to work. Thanks for the information.”
“You bet.”
As Katy slipped her phone back inside her apron pocket, she read over her notes. She would start with Barbara. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned someone sweet and kind like Mrs. Beverly, who had moved to Florida.
CHAPTER 32
Katy stared at Barbara White’s tiny home in a downtown section of Columbus. The weeds thrived, but the grass was scarce. Nothing like Mrs. Beverly’s picture-perfect, country club home, but Katy tried not to judge Mrs. White by her home’s exterior. Maybe she was too old to do any gardening.
Through burning eyes, Katy observed that, indeed, Mrs. White was stooped, and her overall impression of the job didn’t improve when she was bombarded with a strong odor of cat urine.
“Come and sit. We’ll have tea.” A large-boned, top-heavy woman led her across the living room’s dirty carpet. The coffee table was laden with stacks of glued jigsaw puzzles. Boxes of unsolved puzzles filled every corner. A calico cat sat in a sunbeam, using its claws on a threadbare sofa.
Wide-eyed and venturing with trepidation into the kitchen, Katy was motioned toward a chair. The table had puzzle pieces spread over its surface. The sink held unwashed dishes.
Katy’s stomach clenched at the idea of taking tea in the midst of such filth and rank odor. Trying to keep her nose from wrinkling, she asked, “Have you had a housekeeper before?”
Barbara straightened a few inches from her bent position and let out an uproarious bout of laughter. Then she brushed at the air in front of her face. “Does it look like it? I wouldn’t be looking for one now except my kids threatened to put me in a retirement center if I don’t”—she twisted her lips in a snarl—“meet their high and mighty expectations.” Then she