I hang up in his face and pull onto the road.
I’ll never let him win again…
End of Episode 9
Episode 10
Autumn
The following evening
My new temporary home, a one-story Airbnb, sits on the edge of the coast. It’s tucked between two English homes with lavish sunrooms that glimmer under the moonlight.
The owner hails from the south of France and she has no ties to Nate or anyone who has ever known me before.
It’s far too early to claim this as a fresh start, though. My email inbox reveals Nate’s ongoing destruction.
Subject: Grocer Position Now Filled (Rescinded Offer)
Subject: Cancelling Interview: Best of Luck in Your Search
Subject: Our Apologies, Miss Jane (See Formal Letter)
The only job opportunity I have left is the one at Mister R’s estate, and even though I doubt he knows Nate, I can’t risk driving that far to be turned away at the last minute.
I can’t risk driving my car there at all.
I pick up his card, running my fingers along the grooved letters of his first name.
“I’d prefer if you called me Ryder…”
Flipping it onto its back, I stare at the two listed numbers for what feels like the umpteenth time.
Me. 555.878.0910
Estate. 555.897.0043
In the left-hand corner, the number eight sits in faint grey ink, and it looks like my initials—AEJ—are pressed atop in pencil. It makes me wonder if he personally keeps up with every person who receives his business card.
There’s no way…
Dialing the estate’s number, I wait to hear the line ring.
It never does.
“Yes, Miss Jane?” an older male with a deep voice comes over the line. “How may I help you this evening?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“We save all of our applicants’ phone numbers, Miss.” His voice is deadpan. “Are you calling to cancel or reschedule tomorrow’s interview?”
“No, I’m calling because I need to know a little more about the position.”
He says nothing.
“Are you there?” I ask.
“You can ask whatever questions you like when you arrive.”
“I need to ask a few of them now, if that’s alright,” I say. I wait for him to give me an okay, but he remains silent.
“You could at least tell me the salary and benefits, so I can know if it’s worth my time.”
“I can assure you that my employer is more than generous.”
“What exactly will I be doing then?” I push him a bit more. “Administrative work? Housekeeping?”
“We already have a team of qualified housekeepers, Miss Jane.”
“So, it’s an office job?”
“Your interview is at noon. I suggest you get here early so that I can give you a tour of the grounds in advance and you can present these questions directly.”
“Do you not hear how elusive you’re being right now?”
“Is that your last question, Miss Jane?” he says. “I have an important job that I need to return to.”
Ugh. “Yes. That’s my last question.”
“My employer looks forward to speaking with you,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”
He ends the call before I can say another word.
In the morning, I cover my car with a large canvas tarp and lock the home’s backdoor. Then I double check to make sure I have everything I need in my briefcase before meeting the Uber driver out front.
“G’morning, Miss!” He hands me a bottle of water as I slip onto the backseat.
“Good morning.”
“I always appreciate the chance for a long drive.” He smiles at me through the rearview mirror. “If it’s okay with you, I want to finish listening to this Adele album. After that, you can suggest something else.”
“It’s fine.” I nod and look out the window. “I like Adele.”
When the track list comes to an end, he launches into another album of hers.
I silently sing along to the lyrics of “Hello”—hating that the lyrics hit a little too close to home now—that the days of simply enjoying a sad song for the hell of it are long gone.
In the middle of the bridge, I start to wonder what would’ve happened if I’d never met Nate. If I’d never—
Screeechhhh!
The car suddenly comes to a hard and abrupt stop, jerking me so hard that my forehead hits the headrest.
Are we in a wreck?
“Is this the address that you meant to type in for a drop-off?” The driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
I turn my head and notice that we’re halfway down Mister R’s driveway.
“Yes. You’re on the right path.”
“Okay, thanks,” he says. “Get the fuck out of my car.”
“What?”
“Now.” His face pales. “Get the fuck out of my car, lady.”
“Wha-why? Can you at least drive down the rest of the pathway?”
He doesn’t answer.
He puts the car in reverse and speeds backward until he reaches a stone statue. Then he unbuckles his seatbelt and stretches back to unlock my door.
“I’m not driving you any closer.” His face is ghostly white. “Please leave if this is where you have to be.”
Confused, I unbuckle my seatbelt.