Rebecca nodded, thanked her, and stepped inside. The entry hall gleamed with marble floors and towering windows. Her suitcase wheels echoed embarrassingly loud. They walked down a corridor lined with paintings that probably cost more than her entire savings account. At a dark wooden door, Mrs. Hargrove knocked once and entered after a low male voice invited them in.
The office was crowded with paperwork, medical files, and folders stacked high. Behind a large desk sat Daniel Everett, early forties, handsome in a tired way, with shadows under his eyes and tension in his shoulders that never seemed to release.
“Please sit,” he said, motioning to a chair.
Rebecca sat carefully and folded her hands in her lap.
“The agency tells me you have experience with children who have medical needs,” he began.
“Yes,” she answered. “I have worked with children requiring daily care and close observation. I am trained in emergency response and medication schedules.”
He nodded, though his expression remained cautious.
“Why did you leave your previous positions?”