She said it simply, without self-pity.
“And the elderly woman?”
“She passed away. Her children sold the house.” A brief pause. “It was a good job while it lasted. She was a gentle person.”
Mr. Caleb was quiet for a moment. He was watching her the way he watched everything, carefully and without rushing.
“This house,” he said, “runs on a schedule. I wake early. I work long hours. I do not like noise when I’m working, and I do not like things being moved from where they belong.”
He said this plainly, not unkindly.
“I am not a difficult man, but I am a particular one. Do you understand the difference?”
“Yes, sir,” Rebecca said. “Difficult means nothing is ever right. Particular means everything has a right place.” She met his eyes. “I can work with particular.”
This time the almost-smile became a real one, small and brief but genuine. It appeared and disappeared so quickly that Rebecca was not entirely sure she had seen it.
He glanced down at his hands for a moment, then back up at her.
“I will be straightforward with you,” he said. “Grace has worked in this house for 5 years. She knows every corner of it. She knows my routine, my preferences, how I like things done. She is leaving, and that is a gap that will not be easy to fill.”
He said it without drama, simply as a fact.
“I am not looking for someone who will try to impress me in the first week and then relax. I need someone consistent, someone who does the same good work on a Tuesday as on the first day.”
“I understand,” Rebecca said.
“Good.” He straightened slightly in his chair. “The job is 6 days a week. Sundays are yours. There is a small room at the back of the house. It is clean and private. You are welcome to stay here, or continue living where you are currently and come in each morning. That choice is yours.”
Rebecca thought for just a second. “I will come in each morning, sir, if that is all right. I’m used to my own space.”
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