One Night With My Daughter's Human Babysitter

Chapter5

"That's great," Nancy declared enthusiastically. "You're expected to arrive at two o'clock today. I'll send you a text with the address shortly."

"Thank you so much," Joana expressed her gratitude sincerely.

"You're welcome. Oh, and Joana - I want to emphasize that you won't be the sole candidate for this position. I highly recommend making a lasting first impression; securing this opportunity to work for this family is truly exceptional, with unparalleled remuneration."

Upon hearing Nancy's words, Joana's heart sank, prompting her to open her mouth to inquire about the identity of the family. Before she could utter a question, however, Nancy abruptly ended the call, leaving Joana with silence on the other end.

Furrowing her brow, Joana set down her phone, fixating her gaze on the screen as a notification containing the address details materialized before her eyes. An overwhelming sense of curiosity washed over her, compelling her to ponder the nature of a family willing to offer such generous compensation to a nanny. Eager to uncover the truth, Joana couldn't help but anticipate the revelation of the family's identity.

…….

Joana arrived at the address of the house, having donned a fresh ensemble a couple of hours later. Sensing the importance of the occasion, she swiftly retrieved her credit card, typically reserved for emergencies, and embarked on a shopping excursion to acquire clothing that would leave a lasting impression on the family. The crisp button-down shirt, tailored pants, and polished loafers were her carefully chosen attire. As she pulled up to the magnificent mansion nestled in the mountains, her gaze fell upon the line of women congregating at the entrance. In that moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for having made the decision to invest in new clothes.

Joana meticulously ensured that the tags on the garments were discreetly concealed, retaining their presence in case the job didn't materialize and she needed to process returns. Parking her vehicle, she trod barefoot on the pathway leading to the front entrance, clutching her resume tightly in her hand. As she joined the line and observed her surroundings, a steady thumping echoed within her chest.

Increasingly aware of her surroundings, Joana couldn't help but notice that women not only entered the mansion but also emerged with expressions of sadness and resignation etched upon their faces. One particularly pretty girl, who appeared slightly younger than Joana, even shed tears while clutching her crumpled resume. Witnessing these scenes, Joana couldn't help but wonder if the employer's conduct during the interviews had been heartrending enough to reduce these women to tears.

As the line gradually diminished and Joana inched closer to the entrance, a knot tightened in her throat. Stepping inside, she found herself encompassed by the mansion's exquisite beauty - dark Tudor-style wainscoting and creaky wooden floors emanated an old-world charm. The grand prominence of the double staircase in the front foyer captivated her gaze, symbolizing the transformative journeys of the women ascending with hope and descending with dejection after their interviews.

At last, a woman's voice cut through the murmurs, beckoning Joana's attention. Looking up, she encountered the firm gaze of an older woman, grey hair neatly gathered in a slick bun. Clad in a dark blue dress buttoned up to a high collar, enhanced by a pristine grey apron meticulously ironed, the woman emanated an air of authority that left Joana slightly on edge. Suppressing her nerves, Joana mustered her voice and replied, her words quivering ever so slightly under the pressure.

"Joana Pheonix," she announced, cognizant of her own voice cracking amid the tension. The woman muttered to herself and cast her sights down to the clipboard in her hand, making a swift mark next to Joana's name. Peering up once again, she shot Joana a mildly disgusted glance before quickly moving on.

"You're human?" the woman queried, her thin lips pressing together in mild distaste. Joana offered a nod, feeling somewhat taken aback by the reaction. "Very well, take a seat," the woman commanded, conveying a frigid authority.

Joana made her way to the area where other women were seated, finding a comfortable spot in a plush armchair nestled in the corner. There, she sat quietly, contemplating her potential responses to interview questions that swirled in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted a few minutes later when an older woman descended the stairs, her face contorted with hysteria.

"She's a little monster!" the woman exclaimed through tears, her wrinkled face a canvas of distress. "In all my years of being a governess, I have never - and I mean never - encountered such a cruel child." Her words hung heavily in the air as she stormed out, followed by a few others who must have determined that the situation awaiting them upstairs was not worth enduring. Despite the adverse accounts, Joana resolved to take the risk, emphasizing her need for the job, regardless of the child's behavior. She drew strength from her previous experiences at the orphanage where her ability to connect with even the most challenging children had earned her admiration.

As the hours slipped away and Joana waited for her turn to be interviewed, fatigue took its toll. The exhaustion from her encounter with Mr. Elijah Wyatt lingered, seeping into her consciousness. Inevitably, she found herself unintentionally nodding off, slouching into the inviting embrace of the plush armchair. The passage of time blurred, and with the setting sun, Joana's eyelids drooped.

Suddenly, her name jolted her awake, the stern voice of the woman from earlier ringing out. Startled, Joana straightened herself and wiped away a small trace of drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "Is it my turn?" she questioned, glancing around to find the waiting room completely empty.

"Go home," the woman commanded, her tone unwavering as she gestured toward the exit.

"But...I haven't had my interview," Joana protested, rising to her feet, clutching her resume tightly. Panic gripped her as she realized the passage of time and the emptiness of the waiting room.

"Michaela does not wish to see any more candidates," the woman interjected, her voice cold. Stepping away from Joana, she continued, "Especially not young, pretty girls like yourself."

Caught off guard, Joana stood there, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Her hopes and efforts had been in vain. Disappointment flooded over her as she reluctantly accepted the reality that the opportunity she had eagerly pursued had slipped through her fingers.