Page 38 of The Do-Over

“Thank goodness. My son told me to put an ad online, but I told him the internet’s full of weirdos. I always use the window sign and it always brings me someone just right for the job. Now, what’s your name?”

“Perci. Perci Mayfield.”

Through the window, I saw her sit and thumb through a book on her desk. “Perci, you say?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Feeling restless, I paced the sidewalk, keeping the window in my line of vision.

She chuckled. “Polite, I see. That’s a good thing. Do you have experience with kids?”

I sucked in my bottom lip and contemplated how to best answer. “I like them a lot.”

That was probably accurate. Babies were awfully cute.

“All right then, when would you like to come in for an interview?”

A grin stretched across my face. “Anytime. You just let me know when it’s good for you.”

“Since I expect that’s you walking back and forth on the sidewalk, how about now?”

I froze. The woman stood at the window. She waved; I waved back.

“Now would be good.”

A woman in her sixties, Miss Marge had short gray hair, a friendly smile and patient expression. After I filled out an application, she ushered me inside the little room with the window that overlooked the street. A big desk took up most of the space, the top neatly organized. She hardly glanced at my application, instead watching me with steady green eyes.

Her questions weren’t rocket science. Was I available to work early mornings? Yes. Did I have a criminal record? No. Did I have physical restrictions? No.

“You’re hired,” she announced.

“I am?”

“My gut says to take a flyer on you. I always trust my gut.” She pointed a pen in my direction. “You’ll need to pass a background check.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“You can start next Monday.” Her salt-and-pepper eyebrows arched. “That work for you?”

I fumbled with my purse strap. “Um, yes, of course. That would be great.”

Miss Marge leaned back in her chair and settled her hands on her stomach. “The kids might eat you alive, but maybe you’ll surprise me.”

“What?” I asked, not quite sure I heard her correctly.

She shook her head, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. “We’ll see you on Monday.”

SIXTEEN

“Silence may be golden,

but duct tape is silver and it’s real cheap.”

—MIMI

“Miss Perci, will you be my valentine?”

The tiny voice belonged to a tiny little boy, not quite three, but already a heartbreaker. He extended a misshapen paper heart covered in great clumps of glue and glitter. His giant blue eyes gazed at me with innocence despite the red marker on his shirt, hands, the table, and his face.

Crouching, I pinched the corner of the heart to avoid the glitter and smiled. “Julian, of course I’ll be your valentine. I’d be honored.”