The Unwanted Assistant Page 2

  I scoffed. “Do I look like the kind of guy who joins clubs? I like living a quiet life.” I grit my teeth. “I never asked you to stop by and check on me. Thought you wanted to be here.”

  “I do. You’re like family to me.” He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly, his gaze boring right through me, demanding I listen and take notice. “You’re young, Sawyer. Most twenty-four-year-olds don’t sit around playing chess with their elders. They’re out with their friends, going to parties and staying out late, enjoying life.”

  I stifled a laugh. “I’m not anything like your average twenty-four-year-old.”

  “True. Most people your age don’t have an Aston Martin Vanquish sports car to play with. You paid a pretty penny for it. Why don’t you take it for a spin once in a while? Get out of the house.”

  “It’s a shiny toy, I’ll give you that. But you know me, I’d rather hang at home.”

  He walked around the chair and sat down, slamming his fist on the small table between us, eyebrows furrowing. So out of character for Hayden, it would have been funny except something had to have been bubbling under the surface for a while now for him to respond like this.

  “You’re rotting in this place,” he cried, his voice taking on an almost desperate quality. “You should be living life, going to college, traveling, doing anything except sitting alone in this house.”

  Maybe I should have been embarrassed at my lack of social life, but I was too indifferent to care.

  I laughed dismissively, hoping my casual attitude would smooth things over. “College is a waste of my time and traveling sounds about as fun as skydiving in a lightning storm. I’m good with the way things are.”

  Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I wasn’t being truthful, but I had to reassure him so he’d get off my back.

  “You like being alone—dead to the world?” he asked. “You don’t go out in public, you barely talk to your staff.”

  “I talk to Florence.”

  “Telling your chef what you want for dinner doesn’t count.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled.

  “You read books all day and jog by yourself in the woods. What kind of life is that?”

  “The one God chose for me.”

  His head jerked back and he looked shocked. “God didn’t choose this for you.”

  “He did. He chose it the day He took them all away and left me with this,” I said, pointing to the burn scars ravaging the hairline on the right side of my face. “I’ve come to accept—”

  “You experienced a tragedy. But God isn’t forcing you to be alone. You’ve withdrawn from almost all human contact. It’s time to get involved with activities at church. You need to be around people.”

  “I attend every Sunday without fail.”

  “Yes, and you hide in that balcony. When was the last time you actually spoke to another person besides the pastor?”

  I shrugged. “It’s easier to keep to myself.”

  Tension filled the space between us as Hayden turned on his heel and began to pace. I let out a heavy sigh. My choices were my own, and I didn’t expect anyone else to understand.

  Hayden’s movements were restless when he returned to the table. “I promised your parents a long time ago that if anything ever happened to them I’d look after you.” His voice was gruff, unwavering. “They would be grieved if they saw how you live your life. I’m not doing you a favor by enabling this reclusive behavior.”

  The words bit deep. I loved my parents, would have wanted them to be proud of me. But that wasn’t possible now. “They’re gone.” I let the statement hang between us. “It’s up to me how I live my life now.”

  Hayden paused, gaze trained on the ceiling, chest rising from a deep breath. “Let’s cut to the chase. Sarah’s been complaining I don’t spend enough time with her, and between running the company and visiting you, I don’t have room for anything else. It’s starting to weigh on me.” His eyes met mine. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up this crazy pace.”

  He wouldn’t say I was a burden, but we both knew exactly what I was. “Then, by all means, take time off. Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”

  He frowned. “I can’t do that knowing you’re alone here—and unhappy.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I think you should become more involved in the business. Shadow me at work. In a few years, I’ll retire and you should be more aware of the day-to-day transactions that take place. Even if you never choose to run things yourself, you should learn the ins and outs.”

  “It’s not important for me to be there. I trust your judgment.” I had zero interest in running a hotel empire. It wasn’t that I refused to work, I just didn’t want to be around people. Not when they’d see my scars.

  And I’d have to bear their pity.

  He sighed and glanced at me, sadness falling over his features. “Nothing I say gets through to you. I hate to do this, Sawyer, but I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want you to hire a companion.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I swallowed hard.

  “You need someone around on a regular basis. Someone to take you out of the house or play chess with—”

  I sprung to my feet. “Hold on. Wait just a second. Companions are for old ladies who need babysitting or people who aren’t right in the head. I’m neither of those. The last thing I need is a staff member watching my every move. This is getting a little out of hand.”

  “Call it an assistant if that sounds better, but you require more interaction, a person to converse with on a day-to-day basis. I have to be home more to keep my wife happy, but I also need to know you’re okay.”

  I moved to the fireplace and paced, adrenaline pumping through me. He had no right to treat me like some kind of invalid, especially after all I’d done for him. I’d practically given him full reign of the company with a top salary and benefits, and now he was pulling this?

  “You make it sound like I’m a mental case about to break at any moment. You don’t have to coddle me, Hayden. Sure, I’m a little sad at times, but who wouldn’t be after what I’ve been through?” My hands balled into fists. “This is so messed up.”

  “You’re not a mental case, but you’re clearly depressed. And I can’t be torn between work and you and my wife any longer.”

  He handed me a letter, and I felt the blood drain from my face as I scanned the contents. “Your resignation?”

  No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  This was just another one of his stunts to get me to connect with people.

  Hayden emanated leadership and a good work ethic. The prospect of having to hire a new person unnerved me. My current staff kept their distance, but Hayden had something different in mind with this companion thing. Since my parents died, I’d leaned heavily on his guidance. When I’d first inherited the hotel business, I’d been too young to run the company.

  Now I was too broken.

  I couldn’t lose him. That much was clear. “Fine. I’ll join a club.”

  His eyes flickered with hope. “That would be a great start.”

  “Online. I’ll join a club online.”

  “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You need person-to-person contact, not typing on a computer screen!” The veins in his neck popped out, and he sighed, gazing down at his feet. “Accept my resignation, Sawyer. It’s for the best.”

  “Tell me what you need.” My voice turned pleading as I pushed the letter back into his hands. “I’ll give you whatever salary you require. Just name it.”

  The set of his jaw revealed he was undeterred. “I don’t want more money. I want you to hire an assistant. Either you do that or I quit.”

  My back stiffened, and I was hit with a massive wave of frustration. He was being unreasonable. Couldn’t he see what he asked was crazy?

  “The idea of someone traipsing through my home acting as some sort of day-care provider is un
bearable. I’m not hiring a lady’s maid to play Bridge with. I have a life, you know.”

  My words fell flat at the irony in that statement. This was no life.

  He handed back the letter and walked deliberately towards the door. “Then start searching for my replacement right away.”

  “Hayden, wait.”

  He turned expectant eyes on me.

  I steadied myself, rubbing my hands back and forth on my jeans. “Can we talk about this for a minute? You think you’re doing the best thing for me, but hiring a companion is not the answer.”

  His expression softened. “Then what is the answer? Please, tell me. I’d like to know.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out because there was no magical answer to give him—no cure for this horrible existence. I ran a hand over my jaw and let out a groan of frustration. “You’re the only one I trust. Please, don’t quit.”

  He said nothing. He had me between a rock and a hard place. He understood what I’d gone through because he’d been there the whole time. Losing him was unthinkable. But still—a babysitter?

  “Isn’t there a compromise?”

  He shot me a sympathetic glance. “I’ve thought this through and prayed about it. This is how it has to be.”

  My hands went clammy at the prospect of bringing someone new into my home. Someone who would dog my steps and follow me around. “How long do I have to go along with this plan of yours?”

  He considered for a moment. “At least two months. Give it two months, and we’ll evaluate the situation again at that point.”

  I started to protest but stopped myself. The resolute look in his eyes told me all I needed. He’d never give up. “Fine. Two months. That’s it.”

  He squared his shoulders like he’d just won a victory. “Good. I’ll put up an ad, and we’ll do interviews as soon as possible.”

  As he walked away I yelled, “I don’t want someone young. Make sure you find a middle-aged or older person like yourself.”

  He chuckled. “Old like me? I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. I’m no spring chicken. That’s why I’m fighting for help here.”

  “I only meant I’d be more comfortable with a staff member in your age bracket—in their sixties.”

  He blew out a breath, a guilty expression on his face. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Sawyer. I hope you believe my intentions are to help you, not to hurt—”

  “I don’t want that kind of help.”

  He crossed the room, arms open to give me a hug. I moved away because rule number one: I didn’t hug anymore. Ever. Hugs were for weak individuals who required the validation of others to make them feel good, and I needed no such validation. Physical touch made a person long for human contact, something I’d learned to go without. Hayden understood how I felt, but he still tried occasionally.

  He bit back a reply and walked to the door, glancing back at me as if I was a lost puppy. “I’ll call when I have interviews set up.”

  He shut the door and the room grew deathly quiet. The pit of my stomach soured at what this meant. I’d managed to keep Hayden from quitting, but had I just given up my freedom? By agreeing to this absurd plan, my life was about to get a lot more complicated. I shook my head in disbelief.

  What was I going to do with an assistant?

  Chapter 3

  Ivy

  I pushed away frustration as I stood in front of the bulletin board at UA’s Student Employment office. The first week of school had begun, and I still hadn’t found anything. Many of the posts required vocational experience I didn’t have, but I wouldn’t let that deter me. God had brought me this far. Surely, He’d provide a job to get me through the next year. My eyes fell upon one ad that stood out.

  Assistant needed for wealthy gentleman. Flexible hours and easy work. No experience necessary. Will pay $25 an hour. Must be able to think on your feet.

  Possibly, the “no experience necessary” grabbed my attention first, but the pay per hour kicked my heart rate up a few notches.

  “Check this out.” I nudged Sammie.

  She stood next to me scanning ads and turned her attention to where I pointed.

  “Must be able to think on your feet? Perhaps it’s a sales position of some kind. But the salary is a bit much for no experience necessary.”

  “It’s probably too good to be true, but I could really use that kind of money.” I glanced back at the ad. “Wealthy gentleman. That’s odd wording.”

  “Maybe it’s a caregiver job for an older man who needs help getting around.”

  I shook my head doubtfully. “A caregiver position would require a medical background, wouldn’t it?”

  “Only one way to find out.” She pointed to additional information underneath the ad. “It says here interviews are being conducted tomorrow at this address and to email for more information.”

  After snapping a picture of the post with my cell phone camera, I sent an email inquiring about the job as soon as we got home. Instantly, I received a response with an appointment to meet with a Mr. Jeffries at three o’clock the next day. I sent a follow-up email asking about specific duties and waited a few minutes for a reply. When none came, I busied myself with organizing my room.

  Later that evening, Sammie drilled me with practice interview questions. She asked the same questions over and over until my answers were polished and I sounded confident.

  Afterwards, she held onto my hand and prayed, asking God to bring the perfect job that would not only meet all my financial needs but also allow me to serve others. One thing I loved about Sammie: she never said she’d pray and then later forget. She would take your hand and pray for you right then and there. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.

  ***

  The following day, on my way to the interview, I drove down a deserted road lined with large oak trees and gnarled branches covered in Spanish moss, twisted overhead in a breathtaking tree tunnel. It seemed like I was in another world—so far from California and everything that was familiar. I came to a tall wrought iron gate and entered the access code I’d been given in the email from Mr. Jeffries. The gate opened wide and I drove through.

  Everything stilled within me as I took in the details of the property: A tall, stately alabaster mansion with four Corinthian columns and a veranda that wrapped around the length of the second floor, sat on acres of green land, reminding me of a southern plantation from Gone with the Wind. Pink azaleas and shrubbery dotted the perimeter, and majestic Oak Trees provided shade around the estate. The house would intimidate even the crème de la crème of high-society.

  Back home, I lived in a dumpy apartment in a not-so-great area of L.A. where graffiti seemed more the norm than the exception. Would I be comfortable working in an environment like this, with someone who might stare down his nose at me?

  I parked my car behind a red convertible on a horseshoe driveway and walked to the front entrance. As I lifted my hand to knock, the door burst open, and a blonde stormed out.

  She appeared rattled, a frown marring her almost perfect features. She huffed out a breath, blowing blonde bangs out of her eyes. “Good luck with that one. That guy’s a piece of work.” Her raspy high-pitched voice assaulted my ears. She stormed towards the red convertible, heels clicking on the cement, and pulled open the car door in a rage.

  “Wait,” I yelled, “what happened? Who’s a piece of work?”

  She jerked into the driver’s seat and took off, tires screeching. The front door of the house hung wide open and I wondered if I should go in or knock. That decision was made for me when a man with whitish-gray hair, wearing a conservative gray suit walked up. “You must be Miss Wolfe?” His voice was gentle and unassuming.

  I straightened and smiled politely. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Hayden Jeffries.”

  He seemed perfectly normal; a compassionate face, nicely groomed hair, and eyes that were both kind and sympathetic.
The piece-of-work comment from the blonde didn’t seem to fit this man, though he wasn’t the invalid I’d expected. Maybe he needed help with other sorts of duties.

  “Please step in and have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a large room to the left of the foyer. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to email you back yesterday, but you can ask all your questions when we meet. We’re a little behind schedule. There’s one person ahead of you.”

  He motioned to a guy about my age, sitting on an expensive-looking off-white sofa. The guy eyed me, head held high, posture confident, as if the job already belonged to him and he was here to discuss salary.

  “Mr. Bryant, please follow me.”

  Bryant stood with an air of authority like he owned the place, and as he glanced at me with a smug grin, my confidence withered. He thought he was better than me; in fact, from all appearances, he was certain of it. My gaze fell to my faded black pants and simple white blouse. I didn’t belong here. Not in a place like this.

  He followed Mr. Jeffries up a grand staircase that wound around to the second story. I said a quick prayer and reminded myself that God would provide for me whether I got this job or had to look for something else.

  I sat down on the sofa and brushed my hand against the soft fabric. Black damask wallpaper, elegant and stylish, covered the walls of the home. On the other side of the room stood a grand piano with a marble fireplace nearby. An elaborate chandelier hung over a small table in the middle of the room, the sole light in a dark, yet classy space. Everything looked fashionable and expensive. My stomach tightened into a knot. Sure, this house was delightful in a southern-plantation-kind-of-way, but the formal atmosphere made me feel small and insignificant.