Caitlin grimaced. “I think they’d be happy to wash their hands of this whole mess, including Hadley. All she does is whine.”
I wasn’t getting a much better impression of Caitlin, frankly. I stood up. “I hope I’ve helped you, Caitlin. Now I’m afraid that I’ve got a lot to get finished today. I’ll see you out.”
Caitlin followed my lead and stood. “Thank you for talking with me, Nell. I appreciate your time.” She said it as if by rote. Could anyone be that clueless, even in her twenties? Daughter or not, Arabella would do well to find someone more sympathetic to handle the local media, because Caitlin did not seem to have the necessary skills-or tact. Well, she was Arabella’s problem, not mine, and I’d done what I could. I took her back to the lobby and trudged back up the stairs to my desk.
CHAPTER 7
At four o’clock Shelby proudly escorted her candidate for my much-needed assistant into my office. He was a slender young man with a sweep of silky blond hair that kept falling across his forehead. “Eric, this is Ms. Pratt. Nell, meet Eric Marston. Don’t bite his head off.” Eric gave her a look, and she held up her hands in surrender. “All right, I’m going.” She backed out quickly.
Eric walked across the room and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miz Pratt.”
“Let me guess-you’re also from the South, like Shelby?” The accent combined with his manners gave him away.
“That I am, ma’am. May I sit down?”
“Oh, please do.” Once again, I was in the dark: the résumé Melanie had passed on to me was short and bland, so I had little to go on. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“I’m twenty-three, ma’am. College graduate, William and Mary. Been in Philadelphia ’bout a year now. I don’t have a whole lot of work experience, but I helped put myself through school by working in some of the offices on campus, and I’ve been doin’ a lot of temp work since I got here. I keyboard one hundred words per minute, and I file like nobody’s business. Can you tell me what you’re looking for?”
“Well, Eric, I need someone to organize my life here. I haven’t been in this position long, but I’ve worked here for a while. What I need is someone to answer phones, type up letters and reports for me, manage my schedule, take notes at board meetings, and make my life easier. I don’t expect you to pick up my dry cleaning, or bring me coffee, unless you’re getting some from yourself. Have I scared you off yet?”
“No, ma’am. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Well, that’s good, because I don’t have time to play games. Why do you want this job?”
He smiled shyly. “Well, for a start, I need a job, like a lot of other people these days. This city’s not a cheap place to live, you know. I like working with people, and I like organizing things-you should see my closet. I’m punctual, thrifty, neat, and friendly. That’s what you need, right?”
“How about tough, like with people who insist they need to talk with me immediately and won’t take no for an answer?”
He gave me a bigger smile this time. “Well, I’ll just have to turn the charm on until they go away, won’t I?”
I laughed. “How do you feel about history?”
I was pleased to see that his eyes lit up. “I truly love it, ma’am. I was an economics major in college, but I focused on the late-nineteenth-century reconstruction of the South, so I know about research and original sources and all. And Philadelphia’s where so much of it began, right? Even though Massachusetts claims a lot of the credit.”
Could lightning strike twice? Shelby had walked in out of nowhere, and I’d hired her on the spot. Eric seemed too perfect to be true; my luck was never this good. “Eric, how about this? I need someone desperately, like yesterday. Why don’t I give you a trial period, say two weeks? We’d pay for your time, at whatever the going temp rate is, and if everything works out by the end of that time, you’ve got the job. If not, we’ll part ways with no hard feelings. Does that seem fair?”
“More than fair, ma’am. When should I start?”
“Can you come in tomorrow morning? And please drop the ma’am. I’m Nell.”
“Eight thirty okay, Nell?”
“Eight thirty’s fine, Eric. I’ll meet you in front and we can sort out keys and stuff. You want to stop by Shelby’s office and give her the good news?”
“I’d sure appreciate that.”
I came around the desk and led him back down the hall. “Shelby, I said I’d give Eric here a trial run.”
“That’s terrific, Nell. And Eric, you be good or I’ll whup your ass. Got it?”
He bobbed his head. “Sure do, Shelby. I’ll do you proud, don’t worry.”
“Well, I’ll let you two chat-I’ve got work to do.” I ducked out and headed back to my office. I amused myself by wondering how our patrons and board members would react to a Southern accent-and a male one at that-when they phoned me, but I thought Eric had the right idea: charm conquers all, or at least a whole lot. And I had me an assistant, at least for a while.
And cookies. Things were definitely looking up.
Things got even better when I grabbed my phone just before five. “Nell Pratt,” I said crisply.
“James Morrison,” said the voice on the phone, matching my tone.
I stifled an inappropriate giggle. Marty had told her cousin Jimmy to call me, and presto, he called-despite the fact that he was a senior FBI agent. And James Morrison, special agent, looked every inch the FBI agent. When we’d first met, I’d wondered if there was a style sheet for agents, because he fit it to a T: conservative suit, polished shoes, regulation haircut. I happened to know he was an all-around good guy, but the immediate question was whether he was calling for personal or professional reasons. I decided not to make it easy for him.
“Why, James, how nice to hear from you! Do you have news about our missing collection items?”
“Uh, no.”
He didn’t add anything immediately, but I let him dangle. Finally he said, “I know it’s short notice, but are you doing anything tonight?”
I pretended to riffle through my calendar. “No, I don’t have any plans.”
“Would you like to, uh, have dinner with me?”
I didn’t really have to think about that. “That would be delightful. Do you want to meet somewhere?”
“You know that new bistro near City Hall, on Broad Street?”
Of course I did. I walked past it almost daily, and I often drooled over the menu they posted. “I do. What time?”
“How about seven?”
“Seven’s great. See you then.” I hung up quickly, but not before I heard what I thought was a sigh of relief.
I left the office shortly before seven, but James had arrived at the restaurant before me and was seated at a table that was just right-not too public, not too intimate. He rose as he saw me exchange a word with the maitre d’ and waited until I approached. “Nell, it’s good to see you. Is the new job agreeing with you?” He held out my chair for me. One of the last gentlemen.
“I think so,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s been a couple of months already. I’m up to my neck in trying to keep the day-to-day stuff moving forward, without even thinking about any major changes.”
He sat down across from me. “Do you plan any changes?”
“You know the problems we have, but I don’t see what I can do about them without a big cash infusion. We’ve beefed up the front-desk procedures, but it’s really hard to know whether that helps. We’ll see. Any further word about our artifacts?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. These things take time, and you know you can’t count on a high success rate. I wish I had better news, but we’re actively working on it. And of course you know Marty’s on the case, and she’s a bulldog.”