Caroline seems surprised to find this last picture in the stack. “I meant to set this one aside,” she says, but now she has no choice but to explain it. “This is Teddy and his, um, special friend.”
“Anya,” Teddy says. “Her name is Anya.”
“Right, Anya,” Caroline says, winking at me, encouraging me to play along. “We all love Anya because she plays with Teddy while Mommy and Daddy are working.”
I realize Anya must be some kind of weird imaginary playmate so I try to say something nice. “I bet it’s great having Anya around. Especially if you’re a little boy in a new town, and you haven’t met the other children yet.”
“Exactly!” Caroline is relieved that I’ve grasped the situation so quickly. “That’s exactly right.”
“Is Anya here now? Is she in the room with us?”
Teddy glances around the den. “No.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you see her later tonight?”
“I see her every night,” Teddy says. “She sleeps under my bed so I can hear her singing.”
Then there’s a chime in the foyer and I hear the front door open and close. A man’s voice calls out, “Hello?”
“In the den!” Caroline calls back, and she looks to Teddy. “Daddy’s home!”
Teddy springs from my lap and runs to greet his father, and I return the drawings to Caroline. “These are … interesting.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “He’s not possessed, I swear. It’s just a really weird phase. And lots of children have imaginary friends. My colleagues in pediatrics say it’s extremely common.”
She sounds embarrassed and I’m quick to assure her that of course it’s perfectly normal. “I bet it’s because of the move. He’s invented her so he has someone to play with.”
“I just wish she wasn’t so weird-looking. How am I supposed to hang this on the refrigerator?” Caroline turns the picture facedown, then buries it in the stack of other drawings. “But here’s the thing, Mallory: Once you start working here, I bet he forgets all about her. He’ll be having too much fun with his new babysitter!”
And I love how she’s talking—like the interview’s over and I’ve already got the job, and now we’re just problem-solving. “I’m sure the playgrounds here are crawling with kids,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure Teddy has tons of real friends before school starts.”
“Perfect,” Caroline says. Out in the hallway, there are footsteps approaching, and she leans closer. “Also, I meant to warn you about my husband? He’s not really comfortable with your history. Because of the drugs? So he’s going to look for reasons to say no. But don’t worry.”
“So what should—”
“Also, call him Mr. Maxwell. Not Ted. He’ll like that.”
Before I can ask what any of this means, Caroline backs away and her husband enters, carrying a grinning Teddy on his hip. Ted Maxwell is older than I’m expecting, a good ten or fifteen years older than Caroline, tall and trim with gray hair, dark-framed glasses, and a beard. He’s dressed in designer jeans, scuffed Oxfords, and a sports coat over a V-neck T-shirt—the sort of outfit that looks casual but costs ten times more than you’d ever imagine.
Caroline greets him with a kiss.
“Honey, this is Mallory.”
I stand and shake his hand. “Hello, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Sorry I’m late. Something came up at work.” He and Caroline exchange a look, and I wonder if something comes up a lot. “How’s the interview going?”
“Very well,” Caroline says.
“Very very well!” Teddy exclaims. He wriggles out of his father’s arms and jumps back into my lap, like I’m Santa Claus and he wants to tell me everything on his Christmas list. “Mallory, do you like hide-and-seek?”
“I love hide-and-seek,” I tell him. “Especially in big old houses with lots of rooms.”
“That’s us!” Teddy looks around the den in wide-eyed astonishment. “We have a big old house! With lots of rooms!”
I give him a little squeeze. “Perfect!”
Ted seems uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He takes his son by the hand and coaxes him out of my lap. “Listen, buddy, this is a job interview. A very serious grown-up conversation. Mommy and Daddy need to ask Mallory some important questions. So you need to go upstairs now, okay? Go play LEGOs or—”
Caroline interrupts him. “Honey, we already went over everything. I want to take Mallory outside and show her the guest cottage.”
“I have my own questions. Give me five minutes.”
Ted gives his son a little push, sending him on his way. Then he unbuttons his coat and sits across from me. I realize he’s not quite as trim as I thought—he has a bit of a paunch—but the extra weight suits him. He looks well fed, well cared for.
“Did you bring an extra copy of your résumé?”
I shake my head no. “Sorry.”
“No problem. I’ve got it somewhere.”
He unbuckles his briefcase and removes a manila folder stuffed with documents. As he flips through the file, I see that it’s full of letters and résumés from other applicants. There must be fifty of them. “Here it is, Mallory Quinn.” And as he extracts my résumé from the pile, I see it’s covered with handwritten annotations.
“Central High School but no college, right?”
“Not yet,” I tell him.
“Are you enrolling in the fall?”
“No.”
“Spring?”
“No, but hopefully someday soon.”
Ted looks at my résumé, then squints and cocks his head, like he can’t quite make sense of it. “This doesn’t say if you speak a foreign language.”
“No, sorry. I mean unless you count South Philly. ‘Do youse guys wanna jawn of that wooder-ice?’”
Caroline laughs. “Oh, that’s funny!”
Ted just marks his notes with a small black X.
“How about musical instruments? Any piano or violin?”
“No.”
“Visual arts? Painting, drawing, sculpture?”
“No.”
“Have you traveled much? Gone abroad?”
“We went to Disney when I was ten.”
He marks my résumé with another X.
“And now you work for your aunt Becky?”
“She’s not my aunt. It’s just the name of the day care: Aunt Becky’s Childcare. Because ABC, get it?”
He sifts through his notes. “Right, right, I remember now. They’re a recovery-friendly workplace. Do you know how much the state pays them to employ you?”
Caroline frowns. “Honey, is that relevant?”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t mind answering,” I tell her. “The state of Pennsylvania pays one-third of my salary.”
“But we would pay all of it,” Ted says, and he starts scribbling figures in the margins of my résumé, doing some kind of elaborate calculation.
“Ted, do you have other questions?” Caroline asks. “Because Mallory’s been here a long time. And I still need to show her out back.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got everything I need.” I can’t help but notice that he moves my résumé to the very bottom of the stack. “It was nice to meet you, Mallory. Thanks for coming by.”
* * *