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He sifts through his notes. “Right, right, I remember now. They’re a recovery-friendly workplace. Do you know how much the state pays them to employ you?”
Caroline frowns. “Honey, is that relevant?”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t mind answering,” I tell her. “The state of Pennsylvania pays one-third of my salary.”
“But we would pay all of it,” Ted says, and he starts scribbling figures in the margins of my résumé, doing some kind of elaborate calculation.
“Ted, do you have other questions?” Caroline asks. “Because Mallory’s been here a long time. And I still need to show her out back.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got everything I need.” I can’t help but notice that he moves my résumé to the very bottom of the stack. “It was nice to meet you, Mallory. Thanks for coming by.”
* * *
“Don’t mind Ted,” Caroline tells me just a few moments later as we exit the kitchen through sliding glass patio doors. “My husband’s very smart. With computers, he’s a wizard. But socially, he’s awkward, and he doesn’t understand recovery at all. He thinks you’re too high-risk. He wants to hire a student from Penn, some whiz-kid with sixteen hundred SAT scores. But I’ll convince him you deserve a chance. Don’t worry.”
The Maxwells have a big backyard with a lush green lawn, surrounded by tall trees and shrubs and flower beds popping with color. The centerpiece of the yard is a gorgeous swimming pool ringed with patio chairs and umbrellas, like something you’d see in a Las Vegas casino.
“This is beautiful!”
“Our private oasis,” Caroline says. “Teddy loves playing out here.”
We walk across the lawn, and the grass feels taut and springy, like the surface of a trampoline. Caroline points to a tiny path at the edge of the yard and tells me it descends into Hayden’s Glen—a three-hundred-acre nature preserve crisscrossed with trails and streams. “We won’t let Teddy go alone, because of the creeks. But you’re welcome to take him as much as you want. Just watch out for poison ivy.”
We’ve nearly crossed the yard before I finally glimpse the guest cottage—it’s half-hidden behind the trees, as if the forest were in the process of consuming it. The house reminds me of the candy cottage in the Hansel and Gretel story—it’s a miniature Swiss chalet with rustic wood siding and an A-frame roof. We climb three steps to a tiny porch, and Caroline unlocks the front door. “The previous owner kept his lawn mower in here. Used it like a garden shed. But I’ve fixed it up for you.”
Inside, the cottage is just one room, small but spotlessly clean. The walls are white and the roof rafters exposed, thick brown beams crisscrossing the ceiling. The wood floors are so pristine, I’m compelled to kick off my sneakers. To the right is a small kitchenette; to the left is the most comfortable-looking bed I’ve ever seen, with a fluffy white comforter and four enormous pillows.
“Caroline, this is amazing.”
“Well, I know it’s a little tight, but after being with Teddy all day, I figured you’d appreciate the privacy. And the bed’s brand-new. You should give it a try.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress and lie back, and it’s like falling into a cloud. “Oh my God.”
“That’s a Brentwood pillowtop. With three thousand coils supporting your body. Ted and I have the same one in our bedroom.”
On the far side of the cottage, there are two doors. One opens to a shallow closet lined with shelves; the other is the world’s smallest bathroom, complete with shower, toilet, and pedestal sink. I step inside and discover I’m just short enough to pass beneath the showerhead without ducking.
The entire tour doesn’t take more than a minute, but I feel obligated to spend a little more time inspecting everything. Caroline has outfitted the cottage with dozens of small, thoughtful design touches: a bedside reading lamp, a foldaway ironing board, a USB charger for cell phones, and a ceiling fan to keep the air circulating. The kitchen cabinets are stocked with basic amenities: plates and glasses, mugs and silverware, all the same high-end stuff they use in the main house. Plus a few simple provisions for cooking: olive oil, flour, baking soda, salt and pepper. Caroline asks if I like to cook and I tell her I’m still learning. “Me, too,” she says with a laugh. “We can figure it out together.”
Then I hear heavy footsteps on the porch and Ted Maxwell opens the door. He’s traded his sports coat for an aquamarine polo shirt, but even in casual clothes he still cuts an intimidating figure. I’d hoped I would finish the interview without seeing him again.
“Teddy needs you for something,” he tells Caroline. “I can finish showing her around.”
And it’s awkward because I’ve already seen everything there is to see, but Caroline’s out the door before I can say anything. Ted just stands there, watching me, like he thinks I’m going to steal the sheets and towels.
I smile. “This is really nice.”
“It’s a single-occupancy apartment. No guests without permission. And definitely no sleepovers. It’s too confusing for Teddy. Will that be a problem?”
“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
He shakes his head, annoyed that I’ve missed his point. “We can’t forbid you from seeing anyone, legally. I just don’t want strangers sleeping in my yard.”
“I understand. That’s fine.” And I want to believe this is progress, like we’ve taken a tiny step closer to a working relationship. “Do you have other concerns?”
He smirks. “How much time do you have?”