Eleanor & Grey(34)

She was so nervous. I assumed it was her first time ever having to let someone go. She was struggling to actually say the words.

“I get it, Susan, really. You don’t have to feel bad.”

Her eyes watered over, and she clasped her hands together. “But I do feel bad. You’ve been such a big part of our family for so long, and letting you go is just so hard.”

“Well, you could always get knocked up again.” I was joking, but like, really. Get knocked up again, Susan.

She laughed a “never in the history of ever will I do that again” kind of chuckle before downing her mimosa.

“But honestly, at least we have quite a few more months before school starts,” I commented. I’d take any silver lining I could find, and having that buffer would give me some time to search for new employment.

Then, Susan ripped that gem away from me. She cringed. “Actually, Eleanor, we’ve decided to cut ties earlier. I was able to get Riley into a 4k program this semester, and then in the summer we’re taking a family trip to Italy. When we get back, we figured it might be best to just bring on a babysitter to look after Riley.”

Oh.

That’s a low blow, Susan.

She’d used the devastating B word.

I’d been wiping her kid’s bum for how many years? And she wasn’t even going to give me a few months to figure things out?

I tried my best to not allow my emotions to overtake me, but I wore my heart on my sleeve. If I was upset or hurt, people could read it on every part of my body. I had no poker face. What I felt was what you saw, and what you saw was what I felt.

I’d gotten that trait from my mother.

“Oh, that’s…wonderful. That will be so great for all of you,” I said.

She frowned. “Yes, I think so. But, here…” She went rummaging through her purse and pulled out an envelope. “I wanted to give you this, you know, to cover the short notice of the job ending.”

She handed me the envelope, and I thanked her. “Really, that means a lot to me.”

“Of course, sweetie. It’s the least we can do. Also, there’s a little slip in there with a reference to one of my family’s closest friends, Claire. They are looking for a full-time nanny for their girls. I already called her and mentioned your name. They are interviewing for the position next week, and I gave you the strongest recommendation. It might be something worth looking into.”

A bit of relief filled me up as those words left her mouth.

Silver linings are back in action.

“Thank you, Susan. Really. That’s more than I deserve.”

“It’s not a problem at all, really.” She sat back in her chair and grinned. “I’m going to need the keys to the house and BMW back now.”

“Oh? I thought the BMW was a goodbye gift,” I joked.

She didn’t laugh this time. She just gave me a tight smile and held her hand out.

Well then.

I handed her the keys, and she stood up from the table after she laying down cash for her part of the bill. “Okay, well, good luck with everything, Eleanor! I wish you the best. Stay warm out there, and Happy New Year!”

She hurried away, leaving me a bit stunned by how fast everything had unfolded.

I picked up the envelope and opened it to see two twenty-dollar bills sitting inside.

Forty dollars.

She’d given me forty dollars after firing me without any notice.

It really was the least she could do.

I pulled out the forty bucks and placed it on the table to cover my half of the bill, feeling annoyed that, on top of everything, she hadn’t even bought my lunch.

I waved the waitress over and tapped my champagne glass. “We’re gonna need another round of mimosas, stat.”





22





Eleanor





I wasn’t good at being interviewed. I never had been. When I was a teenager and had gotten my first babysitting job for Molly, I’d cried my way through it, actually sobbed in front of Mrs. Lane. She’d patted me on the back, given me a tissue, told me it wasn’t as serious as I was making it out to be, and then said I did a good job. I was fairly sure she’d given me the job only because she’d felt bad for me, mother’s guilt or something.

My interview process for Susan hadn’t been much different, but she’d been only a few months postpartum and a bit delusional, so that had worked in my favor.

Maybe I can cry my way through this one, I thought to myself as I tugged on the bottom of my black skirt.

My thighs were sweaty and rubbing against the folding chair as I sat in the living room of the employer’s home. I didn’t realize the skirt was too short until I’d actually sat down in the chair, and if it had been an inch shorter, I was certain parts that shouldn’t be seen during an interview would’ve been exposed.

I wanted the job, but not that badly.

I kept wondering about the crying option, even though I knew that was ridiculous. A grown woman crying to get her way seemed a bit dramatic. I supposed I would have to suck it up and power through.

There were a few other women sitting around me, interviewing for the same position. They seemed much more confident in themselves than I was, which was alarming. Why weren’t they puddles of sweat? And why had I worn a light blue blouse?