The engraving reads: Teddy Prescott, Remarkable Boy.
“I’ll say,” I say out loud by accident. As his mouth lifts in a delighted smile, I try to remain professional. “I know you didn’t manipulate them into buying this for you. I think you can keep it.” I’ve used a plunger on the Parlonis’ powder room toilet but you don’t see me getting engraved keepsakes. Instead, I get Renata’s cackled jokes about putting me in her will, if I just do this one more thing for her.
Teddy puts it on his wrist. “I haven’t had a watch since I was a kid.” He’s admiring it as he walks out to return to work.
The phone rings a while later and Melanie answers it. “It’s Jerry Prescott.”
I look at the flashing light on my phone and take a deep breath. I pick up and we do pleasantries for about thirty seconds about weather and busyness. Then he gets to it. “Just calling to check in on Teddy. How’s he settled in?”
“He’s doing fine. You just missed him, actually.”
Jerry replies, “He’s behaving himself?” I hear a young woman’s voice in the background, talking to Jerry. Something about at night. “And he’s staying on-site at night? Not off partying?”
“No, he’s been home at night. He’s working really hard, and he has a six A.M. start time. Today is Day Three and everything’s going great.” I sound like I’m bragging a bit.
Jerry laughs. “Six A.M. I didn’t think he had it in him. Rose, pay up. Twenty bucks.” They bet on whether Teddy was screwing up? How horrible.
“He’s doing a great job. He’s already gotten involved with some of the endangered tortoise rehab we do here.”
(There’s no need to mention that his size twelve boot was also the cause.)
“Don’t let him dazzle you,” Jerry says, tone dry. “He tends to do that.”
“Dazzle?” My face is surely turning pink. Melanie mouths back at me silently, like a magic incantation: dazzle.
Jerry continues in my ear, “He dazzles people. I love him, but it’s his personality flaw. He charms his way through life. There is a row of broken hearts stretching back a long, long way.”
Rose: “Is he messing around with the office girls?”
I assure Jerry, “That’s absolutely not going to happen.”
Melanie holds up a notepad: SPEAKERPHONE PLEASE.
Jerry’s struggling on how to explain this. “I don’t mean to make him sound like a con artist. In his own mind he’s very genuine, but he takes a few liberties with people who are too charitable.”
In the background, Rose says, “Theodore has never cared about anyone more than himself. The universe orbits around him. He’s the sun. Just like his mother,” she adds with maliciousness.
“That’s unfair,” I blurt out loud. Then I cover my mouth and shut my eyes. I hear Melanie’s shocked gasp. Oh my God, what is coming over me? Thankfully for me (and possibly my job), Jerry has held the phone against his chest again.
Jerry’s back. “Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile, that sort of thing. I wasn’t kidding that he’s run out of couches.”
I take a moment to consider my own couch. He lay on it last night, complaining and laughing about his day. Renata made him cut up her Big Mac into bite-size bits, and he had to feed her like a baby.
“I’d hate for him to hurt a nice girl like you. Let’s face it, you’re not his type.” There’s a big laugh from Jerry now. “But I’m sorry to say, it won’t stop him trying it with you and your temp. Making girls adore him is a reflex he just can’t control.”
“Good to know,” I manage to reply even though it feels like my tongue has swollen from mortification. “I hear what you’re saying and I appreciate your concern.” The next couch I think about is the fold-out sofa bed in my parents’ basement, ready for the next needy soul.
“He’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Rose warns.
Muffled conversation again. “Yes, I’ll tell her,” Jerry says, then returns to the call. “I mentioned when we met that I’ve got a lot going on at the moment. Let me tell you, Ruthie, that golf course site is no hole in one.”
I laugh because he pays my bills.
“Rose has just finished her current project and is now ready to ramp things up and make Providence her new baby.” Jerry says it like I should be delighted. I try to pretend.
“Will she be coming out to see Providence in person? I’d be glad to have her here, so she can see how special it is.” I will make her fall in love with this place if I have to train a string of tortoises to pull her uphill in a sleigh.
Jerry covers the handset and puts this option to Rose. He explains the importance of a site visit, but she cuts him off. Now I hear nothing and my heart is sinking. Rose doesn’t want to see my sparkling lake. She wants this place to remain abstract. Jerry confirms it.
“She prefers to do her review remotely. It’s better to keep her and Teddy separated. Now remember,” Jerry says with humorous mock-sternness, “don’t get dazzled. Anyway, Rose will call you soon.”
He’s not wrong. Rose calls four minutes later and briskly tasks me on running so many reports that the ink in my pen goes scratchy. I’m nervous. Sylvia told me before I left that she specifically didn’t want me messing around with the accounts. I don’t want to come back to another Ruthie disaster, she’d said, and I knew exactly what she meant.
I tell Rose now, “Sylvia checks everything before I send it through to PDC. Everything you have will be right.”
“I want it all again. Now, what Jerry said is really important,” Rose says in her flat, business-like way. “If you are ever made uncomfortable by Teddy, I want you to call me. He’ll move on to greener pastures soon, but in the meantime just stay professional.”
I’ve been really, really unprofessional. The absolute certainty of this makes my chest tight. “Of course. I’ll start work on those reports for you. Could you tell me, though, what is the purpose of a site review? I think you’ve got a lot of this from when PDC acquired Providence.”
“I wasn’t involved in the acquisition and I want to start from the beginning. And before you ask again, I don’t have time to visit. I’m not like my father, traveling coast to coast, wasting time. Everything can be done remotely. I need the login details for the Providence banking accounts, if you can give that to me now.” I think she’s got a pen poised.
“I don’t have that. Only Sylvia does.”
“Only one person has access to the accounts?” Rose finds that strange. “How long has that been the arrangement?”
“Always.” I feel like I’m snitching on Sylvia. I asked her about it early on in my employment, but she told me that she’d tell me when I could be trusted with them.
Rose interrupts my stressing. “I’ll sort out my own access. I also want an understanding of the hiring practices on-site. Take you, for example. Were you thoroughly vetted? Police check, things like that?”
“I’m not sure. It was a long time ago.” There’s a file marked R. Midona in Sylvia’s bottom drawer but I’m scared of it. “I knew Sylvia when I was growing up. There was a vacancy, she talked to me on the phone, and here I am, six years later.” I’m meaning to demonstrate that my hiring was a success.