She was working herself up to a pre-voicemail fit when someone answered.
“Hello?” The voice was male, young, and it sounded confused.
Meredith checked the number again before speaking. “Um… hi. I’m calling about the job? The personal assistant job?” She hated the way she’d turned her sentences into questions. It was a job. She wanted it. Why couldn’t she sound certain?
“Youare?”
Meredith blinked. He sounded even less certain than she did. Which made her suspicious.
“Um… yeah. There is a job, right? Not a scam?”
“A scam?” Humor entered his voice, and for some reason this eased her suspicions. If someone were scamming her, he’d sound serious. Right?
“Yeah, you know, like those job listings that sayEarn $5,000 a week,and when you go online to apply for the job, it’s really a weight-loss supplement, and they ask for your credit-card number, and before you know it, your credit card’s been charged like eight hundred dollars.”
Meredith stopped talking. She’d stopped talking because she started hearing how she sounded, and if the man on the other end was in the position to give her a job for real, she needed to sound less weird.
“Wow… you really know a lot about that. Did that happen to you?” he asked.
“What? N-no,” she stammered. “I just don’twantthat to happen. Not that it would happen. I mean, I don’t even have a credit card, and who’s stupid enough to put down their credit card number when they’re applying for a job anyway…”
It was happening again. Train wreck. Meredith tried to get it under control. “I mean… the job… if it’s real… I’d like some information.”
She heard laughter on the other end of the line.
Great. I’m never getting a job again.
“I’m sorry. The job is real. I was just surprised to hear back so fast. I just put up those flyers this morning, and you’re the first person to call.”
“Really?” She knew she sounded way too excited, but her gut was telling her that whatever this was, it wasn’t a scam.
“Really. My name’s Baxter Blakewood. To whom am I speaking?”
Proper grammar. No one running a scam would ask “To whom am I speaking?”Baxter Blakewood sounded cultured and sophisticated. Exactly like someone who needed a personal assistant. A little spot of hope pressed against her chest.
“Meredith Ryan. I’m a nursing student at UL, and I saw your sign in Wharton Hall.”
“A nurse?” Mr. Blakewood asked, sounding intrigued.
“Just a student. First year,” she said.
“Still…” he murmured. Something in his tone made her frown.
“What…what exactly would you be needing?”
Silence.
“Well… thejob…would require someone who could run errands. Trips to the grocery store, to the dry cleaners… That sort of thing. Running errands and taking care of a few chores.”
So far, so good.
“Okay… what else?”
Again, silence.
“Well… how do you feel about dogs?”
Meredith thought about Zabby, the black Scottish terrier she hadn’t seen in almost two years — which made her think of Becca. She’d seen her sister since her parents kicked her out, but only because Becca would sneak behind their backs and meet her at CC’s or the mall or at the movies once every few months. They had to be careful, though. Becca was only fourteen. Too young to drive. She’d have to get dropped off first and text Meredith to let her know the coast was clear. If her parents ever saw them together, they’d probably lock Becca away for good.