Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [110]
Her gaze rested on the little red-haired boy who was still plastered against his dad. The child’s stare had never left Katy.
She placed her references on the coffee table that separated them and folded her hands on her dark skirt. Harry Chalmers briefly scanned the page and nodded. “I just need the normal stuff. I don’t even know what that is. I haven’t done any cleaning since—” He broke off. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist, so I hate the house like this.”
It seemed his loss was recent. Katy gladdened to hear that he was the type who would keep things orderly. “I could clean your house in one day, but it would be a long day, and I’d need to rotate some of the cleaning. But $10 is low for this size of house.”
He studied her, his gaze slowly raking over her entire body as if trying to decide if she was worth the money. She tensed, instinctively knowing that he was using the wrong gauge. The uncomfortable moment was broken when an older girl, about Addison’s age, called down from the stairway, “Is Mommy here yet?”
Harry’s face colored. “Not yet, sweetie.”
The little red-haired girl started down, one small hand gliding along the wood hand railing, the other dragging a wheeled, pink-handled backpack behind her, allowing it to bump awkwardly on each step.
Katy considered the implications of the little girl’s question. Had her interviewer been married twice? She searched his face and then quickly scanned the room for photos, trying to piece the puzzle together.
Next, the doorbell chimed.
“Excuse me.” Harry Chalmers rose. His son took a fearful look at Jake and churned his little legs, running after his dad.
Once the family had left the room, Katy looked at Jake and shrugged. He seemed as uneasy as she. From the entryway, angry voices carried into the great room. Jake patted her hand. The voices escalated.
“But I want to go with Mommy, too,” the little boy begged.
“No, it’s not your turn today.”
Then an older boy, whom they hadn’t seen yet, entered the room from the direction of the entryway. He was almost as tall as his father and wore jeans and a black T-shirt. He was using an iPod and halted when he saw them sitting on the couch. Then he hitched up his backpack and strode past them with a curious look. Once he reached the stairway, he bounded up to the second level and disappeared, but Katy heard him slam a door.
The situation grew increasingly uncomfortable with Harry and the children’s mother still arguing in the entryway. The little boy increased his cries whenever his parents allowed a silent moment. It seemed Harry wanted her to take all the children at the same time, and she wanted to spend quality time with each one. Harry claimed she just wanted to make it hard for him to have any time to go out with his friends. He accused her of being jealous of his secretary and trying to control his life. He didn’t sound like a grieving widower. Their youngest son’s cries suddenly drowned out their conversation.
Jake squeezed her hand. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered back. “We can’t leave; they’re blocking the entrance.”
“Let’s wait.” His Dutch accent thickened. “Maybe Chalmers will enlighten us about his personal situation. Otherwise, this is not the job for you.”
Before Katy could decide if Jake was overstepping his bounds by saying the job was not for her, Harry rejoined them, carrying his son. The little boy struggled in his father’s arms, his face tear-streaked. When the boy calmed a bit, Harry gave Katy a sheepish grin. “Sorry about all that.” Then his voice hardened. “She’s such a—” But his voice broke off, as if he suddenly realized he didn’t want to speak