Connections in Death (In Death #48)(9)

He waited a beat, watched her eyebrows draw together. “Are you interested in having me consult at An Didean when needed as I do at Dochas?”

“Actually, I’m hoping you’d be interested in coming on staff in the position of head therapist.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Because the cup rattled in the saucer, Rochelle put her coffee down carefully. “I was under the impression Dr. Susann Po had accepted that position. Mr. Roarke—”

“Just Roarke.”

“I have tremendous respect for Dr. Po, professionally and personally. While I appreciate—while I’m very flattered you’d consider me for the position, I could never undermine someone with Dr. Po’s skills and reputation.”

“Dr. Po would never have been offered the position if I didn’t share your respect. Unfortunately she’s dealing with a family emergency, and is relocating to East Washington, perhaps permanently. She regretfully resigned from the position late last week.”

“Oh, I see. I hadn’t heard. I’m very sorry. I . . .” Rochelle picked up her cup again, drank more coffee. Took a very careful breath.

“Dr. Po has nearly thirty years’ experience in youth psychology and counseling. I barely have ten. It feels ungracious to ask, but I have to ask: Does this offer have to do with my relationship with Wilson?”

“Last fall when I offered Dr. Po the position—a key position in a project that’s very important to me, to my wife—I did so because of her experience, reputation, and a variety of other reasons. There were five names, five highly qualified people I considered before making that offer. You were second on that list.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t believe you were in a relationship with . . . Wilson at that time.”

“No, no we weren’t. That is, we met near the end of December. So we’ve known each other for a few months. But we didn’t begin to . . . We didn’t get involved right away.”

“I can assure you, I wasn’t aware you knew each other at all. In fact, it was an interesting surprise for me to meet you Saturday at Nadine’s party, with Wilson, as I had decided only that morning to ask you to come in, to speak to you about the position.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. If I’d known this was an interview for such a vital position, I’d have come more prepared.”

“We’ve already had most of the interview.” Because he sensed genuine nerves now, Roarke smiled at her again. “Saturday night, and over coffee here. Rochelle, you wouldn’t have been on the list last fall if I hadn’t already done my due diligence. I’m aware of your educational qualifications, your professional work and reputation, your volunteer work, including the hours you’ve given to Dochas. Either I personally or Caro has spoken with a number of your colleagues, your superiors, your professors, and so on. As with everyone else who’ll be a part of An Didean, I complete this process as we are here. A face-to-face.”

The way her stomach jittered, she almost expected to see the skirt of her suit bounce. “A man with your—let’s say reach—would be aware that my father died in prison. He was an addict, a troubled, often violent man. And that my mother’s addiction to him and to the substances he introduced her to contributed to her suicide.”

“I am. We make our choices, don’t we, to overcome the brutality of our youth or to follow that path into the cycle of it. I don’t need your skills to intuit the path you took was influenced by your own childhood, and the desire to help the vulnerable, the defenseless. I’ve added that to your list of qualifications.

“More coffee?”

Now her throat wanted to close. “Actually, I could use a glass of water.”

“Of course.” He rose, strolled across the room to a little alcove, took a bottle of water from a cold box, poured a glass. “If you have an interest in the position, we can discuss more details. Job description, structure, salary, and so on.”

“That would be . . .” She took the water he brought her, took three careful sips. “It’s an important decision, life changing really. I should take some time, think it through before we . . .”

She set the water down, turned to him. “Am I crazy? Am I stupid? No, I’m not either of those things.” She let out a rolling laugh. “Of course I’m interested. I’m staggered and flattered and working up to giddy while I’m trying to be sober and dignified.”

She had to stop, laugh again, pat a hand on her heart while he smiled at her.

“And, yes, I’d like very much to talk about the details of your amazing offer. I’d really like to tour the building. I’d like to see where the children will live, the educational and recreational facilities, the group and individual counseling areas. All of it.”

“Of course,” he said again. “How about now?”

Her eyes widened, blinked. “How about . . . now?”

“We can discuss those details while I give you a tour. I’m interested in what you think.”

She picked up the water, drank again. “Now works.”

*

After the tour, and the handshake that concluded it, Roarke went back to his headquarters. He stopped by Caro’s office.

“You can send the contract, as is, to Dr. Pickering, Caro.”