Chapter Fourteen
Sadie
February, 1968
"Here is the list of standard questions." I handed off the paper as I took a seat at the end of my great, great nephew's desk. John was a descendent of Mary's and we were preparing for interviews. I was walking him through the process.
I was in Chicago, opening one of our department stores. It was still my job to move from city to city to open and train employees and family members. Then I'd move on to the next town or city when they were capable enough to handle it on their own. It was a perfect job for a werewolf that would never age.
John took the list; the paper shook as his hand almost touched mine. His hazel eyes, refused to look at me.
"You are safe with me, I will not hurt you," I said to reassure him. His father had just told him the day before what I truly was, and he was still a little apprehensive, which was a shame. John and I had become friends a year ago when we broke ground for the store. His father Emanuel was to run the business so he didn't feel it was necessary for John to find out yet. Except last week after Emanuel had broken his leg, he was forced to tell his son the truth.
John took a deep breath and looked up at me, as if searching for something. He was silent for several seconds before a grin spread across his face. "I bet I'll still beat you," he said, his eyes held only a small amount of fear.
I laughed. He was referring to our ongoing basketball games that we played during lunch in the parking lot. "If I used all my reflexes John, you wouldn't even see me move." My face was serious, and John's eyes widened in fear. But when I slowly grinned, he smiled, giving me a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Anyway, back to business. The first batch of applicants will be coming in a few minutes, and I want you to familiarize yourself with the questions. I don't want them to think I'm in charge. I'm just your nephew, wanting to get some experience for my resume." I paused as he glanced at the paper. "Can you handle this?" For some reason his father worried he couldn't, but I had faith in him.
He looked up at me and smiled. "Piece of cake." He was twenty-five and the ink had barely dried on his business diploma. But he had something a degree couldn't give him, charm and ambition. With those two traits he would succeed. He reminded me a little bit of my father.
A sharp knock sounded on the office door, and John stiffened in his chair. I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Breathe John. You can do this."
His smile was appreciative. "Thank you Nathaniel." He took a deep breath and said, "Come in."
Mrs. Murphy, our plump, redheaded secretary popped her head inside, bringing with her, the scent of cherries. "There is a Miss Natalie Reed here to see you," she said glancing between us. She didn't know my secret, but she had suspicions. I was always cooped up in the office with all the department heads and she often looked curious when someone would come to me with a question. My usual response was that I'd ask my uncle Emanuel, until we were behind closed doors where I could be myself. It was difficult to keep up the ruse all the time.
John glanced down at the schedule that sat in front of him on the shiny, mahogany desk. "Please send her in Mrs. Murphy."
Her smile was warm as she nodded, and just before closing the door, she gave me a wink.
I leaned back in my chair, stretching my jean clad legs out in front of me as any eighteen year old boy would do, and glanced one last time at John. He was organizing the papers on his desk so he could see them all, and then straightened his blue striped tie. He was wearing a navy blue pin striped suit, which was a contrast to his pale blond hair--a Riley trait that most males in the family inherit. His nerves were visible to me, until the door opened. His smile was confident and welcoming as Natalie, a twenty year old university student, entered the room.
She was tall and wiry, wearing a white peasant blouse and a long flowing floral skirt. Her long raven-black hair almost reached her waist, and she smelled like cinnamon. "Mr. Riley?" she asked John, giving me a quick uninterested glance.
"Yes," he said, taking the hand she stretched out. "And this is my nephew, Nate." He gestured to me, with a grin.
Once John leaned back in his chair, she shook my hand, her face a neutral expression. Taking the chair in front of the desk, she sat her bag on the carpeted floor next to her.
John cleared his throat, gazing down at the questions I had given him, and then glanced quickly at her resume that was also on the crowded desk. His face was an odd shade of red. "So, Natalie, I see here that you worked on the corner?" I coughed loudly, stifling a laugh. His eyes widened shooting me a look that reminded me of a bug eyed gold fish. It only made me want to laugh harder. Luckily, I was able to suppress it, shifting in my seat. "I'm so sorry…I meant to say Corner's Grocery Store," he said peeking up at her, his face flushed with embarrassment.
She simply smiled at him, ignoring me altogether. "Yes, I had to quit when I started school, but I would like something part time, and closer to the university."
"Okay…well…um," he stammered. This was not good, and it was just going downhill. But even after his disastrous beginning, I knew he could do this. I cleared my throat, in attempt to let him know that I was here and to calm down. It was all I could do. John paused and nodded, obviously in understanding. "Would you say you are a team player?"
Natalie thought for a moment before responding. "Yes, I would. I worked very well with others in all of my jobs, and have lots of group settings at school where I am studying to be a teacher."
His eyes flicked so quickly to the paper that I knew she didn't notice. Only someone with my heightened sight would. "What do you think is your best trait?"
She smiled, brushing her long, raven hair off of her shoulder, her cinnamon scent stirred in the air. "My personality. I am very friendly and often get to know the customers by name."
"It says here you would like to work evenings and weekends. How many shifts a week would you like to work?"
"Three if it's possible. Two weeknights and Saturday would be ideal."
He went on, stiffly asking questions that she answered well, smiling where appropriate, appearing serious and confident when needed. Finally, with all the questions asked, we all shook hands, and she left the office with a smile.
A few seconds after the door closed, John stood up and shook his head. "God that was brutal. I can't do this, Nate." I could sense his fear and embarrassment.
Sitting up in my chair, I said, "Yes you can, you might not believe it, but I do. I have confidence in you."
"Why?"
"Because you're a Riley, we thrive under pressure. Besides, you remind me of my father, and he was good at everything."
My words must have convinced him, because he sighed heavily. "Fine, call in the next one." He took his seat while I opened the door to inform Mrs. Murphy that we were ready. The door closed behind me with a soft click.
For the next hour we interviewed two men and two women. Once the Natalie debacle was behind John, he seemed to find his stride. After Stephen Peterson left, who was applying for the hardware department manager's job, we took a break for lunch. Instead of shooting hoops though, we went over the applicants. We both agreed that Natalie would be a great asset but the other girl, didn't have the experience we were looking for.
Just as I took the last bite of my sandwich, Mrs. Murphy announced the next applicant. When the door creaked open, I froze, all the hairs on my body stood on end. It was a werewolf, and my first thought was Rowan, the second was to protect John. I stood in front of him ready, fists clenched, body rigid. Last time Rowan acted as a coward, going behind my back and killing my father, this time he'd have to face me. "Stay behind me," I growled. My voice had changed, it was deeper, wild sounding, and I knew my eyes must have changed as well.
"Nate, what's wrong?" John asked just as a teenage girl bounced into the office.
Her chestnut colored hair was tied in two braids hanging over her shoulders. She was wea
ring blue hip huggers and a pink knit top. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, and her nostrils flared as if she was sniffing the air. She was the werewolf I smelled. Knowing Rowan was not in the building did nothing to calm me. "John, can you excuse us please." My voice was tense, but the growl had disappeared.
"What's going on Nate?' John's voice shook with worry and confusion.
"Just go please."
He did as I asked, glancing curiously at the girl.
When the door closed behind him, she smiled widely. "Let me guess, you've never met another werewolf before." She fell into the awaiting chair, crossing one knee over the other, swaying her foot back and forth. She beamed up at me; her brown eyes alight with secrets. She seemed so cheerful and not at all like any werewolf I'd met so far, which was all of two. But maybe this cute little girl act, was just that, an act.
"Who are you?" I asked accusingly, my eyes narrowing.
She spun around in the chair, her grin still on her face. "You have my resume, you already know my name." Her voice was sweet and charming. I did not want to like this girl.
Her words confused me. "You're applying for a job here?"
"What, you don't think werewolves have to make a living? I have to eat don't I?" Again, her foot swayed back and forth, distracting me.
"Do you know Rowan?" I asked, bringing my attention back to her face, which was round, and cherub-like. I watched her eyes for a spark of recognition. There was none, but I wasn't convinced yet. And even if she didn't know him, I knew she couldn't be trusted.
"Who?" she replied, her brow creased in confusion.
"He is a werewolf that wants to harm me. Don't tell me you don't know him."
Leaning forward she picked up the wolf paperweight Emanuel had given me as a joke. She held it in her hand and examined it quickly before returning it to its spot on the desk. "I'm sorry but I don't. It's not as though every werewolf knows each other."
"Fine, you don't know him, but you can't work here."
Her eyes widened, a look of shock crossing her face. "Why? Do you have a policy against werewolves? Because I hate to tell you this, but you are one." Her innocent demeanor was endearing, and quite frankly a little confusing.
My lip twitched, fighting a smile. "I am aware of that, thank you." I opened my mouth to interrogate her some more, when a knock sounded on the door. It was John. I could smell his minty scent through the wooden door and I knew I couldn't keep him out any longer. I took my seat once again. "Come in."
The door opened slowly, his head popped in, his light hair falling into his hazel eyes. "Everything okay in here?"
"Yes John, come on in."
He gazed at me, his eyes full of questions. I shook my head, and he continued to his chair behind the desk. He cleared his throat. "So, should I continue with the interview?"
Sadie replied, "Yes," at the same time I said, "No."
The girls head spun around to face me. "What?" she asked incredulously.
"You are not right for this job, I'm sorry."
"Can you tell me why, what is your problem with me?" She asked and then glanced at John who was leaning back in his chair, looking confused.
I pressed my lips together, and closed my eyes for a few seconds. I felt like I was dealing with a small child who wouldn't behave. "Sadie, you know why," I replied when I opened my eyes.
"No I don't. Enlighten me. What is your name anyway?"
"It's Nate, and my reasons don't matter, I can refuse to hire anyone I want."
Her gaze shifted from John to me. "Really? Because, you're just a teenager, he's the one in charge." She pointed to John. She was really starting to irritate me. "What do you think Mr. Riley?" She asked, her arms crossed in front of her. "You are the one in charge here right?" Her words were challenging. She knew what I was, and that I was more than I pretended to be, but she also knew that John could not say anything.
John glanced at me, with a look that could only be described as a deer in the headlights.
An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. "Fine. Go ahead."
"Okay." John said, before he began the standard questions.
Sadie was polite, giving all the right answers, and then described her work experience, which was impressive. If she was a normal teenage girl she'd be the perfect part time help. But we both knew she wasn't.
"Well Miss Clark we will be in touch," John said, shaking her hand at the end of the interview.
I remained seated, glaring at her.
She stood in front of me with her arm stretched out, a pleasant smile on her lips. Did anything bother this girl? I reached out to take her hand. Her skin was warm and soft, until she squeezed. I could feel the strength in her hand and fingers. The grip was not hard enough to crush my fingers, but just enough to crack my knuckles. Her expression did not change; the same sweet smile was plastered on her face. My instinct was to squeeze back, but she was just a girl, at least she appeared to be, and I was still a gentleman. Instead I pulled my hand out of her strong grip, showing nothing on my face that she had hurt my hand. I suppressed the urge to shake my fingers.
She curtsied dramatically with her trademark grin and then slipped out, leaving both my nephew and me gaping at the closed door.
"What the hell was that about?" John asked, his mouth hanging open.
I shook my head, bewildered by the girl. "You don't want to know."