Help Wanted (10 page)

John made sure she could log on, showed her some drafts of user manuals that she'd be tasked with updating, arranged to meet her for lunch, and gave her a quick tour of their floor. After showing her where to find the bathrooms, kitchenette, and copy room, he introduced her to the software development team and the company's lone staff technical writer.

Plopped in her well-worn office chair, Amanda Warden halfheartedly held out her pale hand to Claire as she examined her over her thick, tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.

"Welcome."

"Ok, I gotta get to a meeting," John announced before dashing off to a conference room down the hall, laptop in hand.

Chicken…

After watching him for a moment, Claire turned her attention back to Amanda, who had already turned to face her computer screen.

"Well, hey, nice to meet you." 

Back in her cube, Claire spent the remainder of the morning skimming through dusty old drafts of documentation, proofreading as she went. After a long while, she looked up at her cramped, cluttered surroundings. It was a far cry from the spacious office she had at her last job. Still, she was grateful.

Finding a nearby vacant cube, she shoved all of the ancient equipment into it and pulled out her notebook to reread the draft of her first Plate Spinner column. Anything to keep her mind off Paul and that smirk. Her pulse raced every time she thought of it. The jury was still out as to whether lust or loathing was to blame.

"I'm a plate spinner," she read. "No, not the kind you might catch in Vegas or even on a rerun of an old variety show. My 'plates' aren't so much objects, but those elements of my life that get me out of bed in the morning faster than the promise of a hot cup of coffee.

"With four young boys and a full-time job, I have plenty of plates to spin. My 'act,' while not nearly glamorous enough for Vegas (and a little difficult to simulate on a stage), does seem to provoke the same sense of awe in just about anyone I meet who, on hearing that I have four boys, inevitably exclaims, "How do you do it? 

"Before responding, I imagine an announcer's voice hushing the eager crowd in the audience. 'And now, ladies and gentleman, the amazing Plate Spinner! Watch as she dazzles you by making four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while checking her office voice mail
at the same time
. See how she unloads the dishwasher while dictating a shopping list to her husband. And finally, home from a long day at the office, she helps the kids with their homework while making dinner!'

"The crowd roars with applause, the curtain parts, and they watch as I go about spinning through a typical day.

"I sigh at the millions in ticket sales I could be making and then soberly reply, 'Oh, it's easy. They're great kids.'

"Welcome to the heady world of working parents. In some households, both parents work, and in some, just one parent works—in my case, it's me.

"No, I don't feel that this makes me a bad mother. Quite the contrary, it's a testimony to my mother, who worked full time while raising me. She was a plate spinner extraordinaire. The one who taught me that plate spinning, while a stress-inducing and largely underappreciated skill, is done by loving parents the world over, whether they're at home or at work. You don't have to fly to Vegas to catch my act. Just send your questions, stories, tips, or recipes to me at [email protected], and we'll get this party started."

"Ready for lunch?" John asked as he popped into her cube promptly at the agreed upon time.

Startled, Claire stashed her notebook back in her bag, grabbed her wallet, and replied, "Absolutely."

*   *   *

When the elevators opened on the seventeenth floor of the
Gazette
building, Paul straightened his tie for the umpteenth time and followed the signs for the Griffin Media office suite. As he approached what he assumed to be the reception desk, he watched as the middle-aged, well-accessorized woman sitting behind it sized him up.

Man, it's hot in here.

When he worked at Creiger Financial, he loved being in a suit. It made him feel sharp, professional, and powerful. Today though, he felt uncomfortable, awkward, and conspicuous.

"May I help you?" the woman asked.

"Uh, yes. I'm here to see Nina Crenshaw…?"

Looking as if she had just been forced to drink sour milk, she stood up and showed him to Nina's cube.

"She should be right in. Have a seat."

He sat as instructed in a chair next to the desk, unable to keep his knee from bouncing while he waited.

This was all happening way too quickly. One minute, he half-jokingly asks Nick if he knows of anyone looking for an accountant, and next thing he knows, he gets a call from the stepmom of one of the other runners.

And now, here he was. In a suit.

While it still fit, he felt painfully overdressed.

In the few minutes before Nina arrived, he almost had himself talked out of pursuing this harebrained idea. Going back to work without telling Claire suddenly seemed spiteful. That he could still smell her body lotion on his collar wasn't helping.

He was about to get up and leave, when a tall, very pregnant blonde waddled into the cube with a huff. She was younger than he expected, and given her trendy haircut and clothes, he wouldn't have pegged her as an accountant. The female finance professionals he had worked with always wore suits, belly bumps notwithstanding.

Doing his best to mask his curiosity with courtesy, he sprang up and held her chair, fearful that she might tip it over. Next, he held out his hand.

"Nina? Nice to meet you. Paul. Paul Mendez."

Returning the smile, Nina shook it vigorously. "Nice to meet you, Paul. Thanks for coming in at such short notice."

She pulled her laptop out of her backpack and pushed it aside while it booted up.

"So, Paul. We talked a bit on the phone about the position. It's basic staff accountant stuff—accounts receivable, accounts payable, month end—the usual. Think you can manage that from your home office? Lester pulled some strings and got you a remote access token."

Opening a desk drawer, she pulled out a small envelope containing a little key-like device with a number flashing on it and an instruction sheet. Holding it midair, she explained, "If you need help with anything—logging on, accessing your email, downloading files, anything at all, there's a number in there you can call for assistance."

When she reached across her desk to hand it to him, her face winced in pain.

Paul's eyebrows shot up. "You ok?"

Nina blew out a breath as she eased back in her chair. She waited a moment before responding, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Despite her assurance, a jolt of alarm shot through Paul when he saw her glance at her watch.

Certain it would fly in the face of proper business etiquette to ask if his interviewer was in labor, he simply held up the envelope and said, "Got it."

Nina pressed her hands down on the edge of her desk and took a deep breath. "Let's see. What else? Oh, you'll have to be sure to dial in each week for the staff meetings. If you could be here in person, that would be even better. At least, at first, so people can put a face to your name."

"Yeah. Sure. Absolutely."

Let's wrap this up.

Waving in the direction of the reception desk, she added, "I've already asked Marie to forward you the meeting invite."

Paul nodded.

Much to his dismay, Nina spent the next few minutes quickly detailing his day-to-day responsibilities.

He just kept nodding, so much so he felt like the Kerry Wood bobblehead doll sitting on top of the printer back at home. In his office. Where he'd much rather be right then.

With the exception of an online tutorial he'd need to take to familiarize himself with the accounting department's new operating system, he assured Nina he could hit the ground running.

Assuming they were done, he asked, "So…how soon did you say I could start?"

"Tomorrow would be good," she replied with an almost-apologetic smile. "You should be getting the paperwork today, and you can drop it off anytime this week. Or better yet, just scan it and get it in to Marie by the fifteenth."

"Ok, I'm on it. Thanks very much." Something told him he'd better be on his way, and fast.

He stood and was about to shake her hand when she asked, "So tell me again, how do you know Lester?"

Against his better judgment, Paul sat back in his chair, pressing his lips together and trying to keep his knee from bouncing while Nina kept talking.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled that we were able to connect, but it seemed pretty random, you know? I've been looking for a qualified replacement for weeks now, and then, poof, here you are."

Paul let out a short laugh. "I know, right? Well, my son is a freshman at Knollwood. Runs cross-country. I happened to mention—"

Nina held up her hand. "Say no more. Nick, right?"

Again, Paul nodded, this time with a smile. "Yep. He's a good guy."

Nina rolled her eyes. "He's the best. If you had met Bobby, that's Lester's son, a year and a half ago, you would've written him off as a spoiled-rotten delinquent. Such a brat." She let a shiver pass through her before continuing. "But once he started cross-country, I'm telling you, he's a different kid. Nothing short of a sweetheart."

"And the team captain," Paul added.

Nina beamed. "That's right."

Their conversation drawing to a close, he watched her sit up, and sucked in a breath. Staring at a spot on her desk in front of her, she pressed both hands to her expansive belly and blew out a long, slow breath.

A familiar panic churned inside of Paul. He knew that look all too well.

With no small amount of concern, he asked, "And when did you say you were due?"

With a white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair, Nina gasped, "Yesterday."

Holy crap.

Suddenly, every thought about the job, problems with Claire, the boys' schedules, the global economy, the Cubs playoff chances—everything left his mind as he leaned forward and asked, "Contraction?"

Nina shook her head and then nodded as her face twisted with worry. "I thought it would be ok to come in, because my water hasn't broken yet."

Feeling as if his supply of oxygen had suddenly been cut off, Paul loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button. "Doesn't matter. Claire's never did. They had to break it at the hospital all four times."

Nina grabbed her phone, jammed out a text, and stared at it a full minute before whimpering, "Oh no."

With perspiration beading on his forehead, Paul asked a question to which he really didn't want the answer. "What's wrong?"

"Lester's plane is late coming in from New York. Can you come with me to the hospital?"

"Uh, isn't there someone here who you'd rather have take you? A friend maybe?"

Shoving her laptop back into her backpack, Nina whispered, "No one here can stand me."

Waving her hand in the air, she continued, "I'm surrounded by Carlotta's fan club."

"Who's Carlotta?"

"Lester's first wife."

"Any family I can call for you?"

"Well, yeah, but they're all in Texas."

With an imploring look, she asked again. "Please, Paul, I know we just met and this is really awkward and inconvenient, but you're here now, and I need your help."

Paul glanced at his watch. He had to pick up Jonah in an hour.

Jacquie can probably get him.

He nodded and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "Sure. Of course. Ambulance or cab?"

"Cab. It's quicker."

He helped her out of her chair, hoisted her backpack onto his shoulder, and walked her out of the building, wondering what he had just gotten himself into. His Boy Scout leader emergency preparedness training did not cover how to deliver babies. He wasn't even sure witnessing the birth of his own four sons had prepared him.

After easing her into the back of a cab, she clutched his hand the second another contraction gripped her.

"Ow, ow, ow."

The big greasy driver turned his head. "Hey, lady, please don't have your baby in my cab. I just had it cleaned after a couple of drunks puked back there."

"Oh, Paul," she whined.

Addressing the cab driver from hell, Paul replied, "You'd better step on it then, huh, pal?"

He turned to face Nina. The one thing he remembered from Claire's deliveries was to do whatever it took to keep her calm. Once pain-induced panic set in, he saw for his own eyes there was no going back—not until the doc put the epidural in anyway. After Claire's marathon delivery with Luke, he remembered how they had wished they'd known about the relief it could offer. When she was in labor with Jonah, however, it started so quickly, they were lucky to make it to the hospital in time.

And he so did not want to relive that experience today, especially with a virtual stranger.

With the firm, reassuring voice of a seasoned Lamaze coach, he said, "Ignore him. Concentrate on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice deep breaths."

Nina did as he instructed. When the contraction had passed, she dug her phone out of her purse and texted to Lester to meet them at the hospital.

Paul texted Jacquie. After she confirmed that she'd get Jonah and hang on to him, he relaxed just a little. That is, until Nina asked him how attached he was to his suit coat.

He looked down at his favorite black Italian-made tailored jacket. "Why?"

"I think my water just broke."

As her next contraction started, she panted, "I'll reimburse you. Just remind Lester. You can write it off. As a work expense."

Paul didn't know whether she was kidding or delirious. "How about I just give the guy a really good tip instead."

This made her laugh. At least he thought it was a laugh. Given the way she was crushing his hand though, it was probably wishful thinking on his part.

"Mr. Crenshaw?" a nurse asked as she wheeled Nina into the emergency room.

Paul did a double take. "Oh. I'm not her husband."