“Have a seat, dear,” Ms. Petersen said, smiling warmly. Cloe picked up a slight accent, but couldn’t quite place it. She sat down, but only after Ms. Petersen had.
“I was hoping that my brother would join us for this, but it seems that he needed a nap,” Ms. Petersen said with an amused smile.
If the man was as old as the woman sitting in front of her then Cloe could understand his need for a nap. Heck, she was only twenty-eight and she really could use a nap after driving up from Florida on only two hours of sleep.
Ms. Petersen looked her over before giving her an approving nod. “You’ll do just fine,” she said softly.
“Ah, thank you,” Cloe said, not really sure what the correct response to being perused over like a car for sale was.
Ms. Petersen clasped her hands together. “Now let’s see, your room is on the second floor. You may have whichever room you want. My brother turned the dining room into my room several years ago, because I have such a difficult time climbing stairs,” Ms. Peterson explained as Cloe nodded in understanding.
“My brother has the basement as his bedroom. That is the first rule actually now that I think of it. Please do not go down there. My brother likes his privacy and if he discovered that anyone was down there he would become very upset.”
“I understand. I won’t intrude on his privacy,” she quickly agreed since she had no desire to walk in on a ninety-year-old man in his birthday suit. Not her thing. Seriously.
“I should probably also mention that he would be very upset if anyone went in the barn,” Ms. Petersen added with an apologetic smile. “That’s where he keeps all his artwork.”
“I understand,” Cloe said with a reassuring smile and a nod.
“Let’s see,” Ms. Petersen said as she took out a folded piece of paper. “My friend Gladyce told me that I should write down the rules and what I expect so that there won't be any misunderstandings.”
‘That sounds like a good idea,” Cloe said encouragingly. The other woman nodded and smiled again, pleased that Cloe was so agreeable. From her experience as a live-in caregiver, Cloe knew all too well that a great deal of the elderly were treated little better than children and their opinions were often ignored. It was something that always bothered her and something that she strove not to do.
“Hmm, where to start…oh! Okay, no smoking or drinking in the house.” She looked up to gage Cloe’s response. When Cloe simply nodded, she continued. “No men in your room.” That rule was more than fine with Cloe since men were the last thing she felt like dealing with at the moment.
“Anything else?” Cloe asked encouragingly.
Ms. Petersen frowned at her list. “That seems to be it for rules. Do you have a problem with any of them?”
“Absolutely none.”
“Good, good, okay now the chores…..the house needs a deep cleaning and then daily cleaning. Then there’s the lawn and you put down on your resume that you can do work as a handyman?” she asked, looking up at Cloe.
“Yes,” Cloe hesitantly answered.
She almost lied, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. More times than she could count, her employers or their family tried to squeeze as much work out of her for her base salary as they possibly could. That sucked, because if that happened she was out of here. She was done with being used.
“Good! There’s plenty of things around here that could use some attention. Oh, especially the house. It needs to be scraped and painted,” Ms. Petersen rambled on about all of the things that could use some attention, oblivious to Cloe’s lack of enthusiasm.
Somehow Cloe stopped herself from groaning her frustration. Well, it looked like she was going to have to accept that live-in position in Pennsylvania after all. “Ms. Petersen-”
“Now, according to Bernice, that’s my friend, handymen make about fifteen to twenty dollars an hour. So, let’s just say twenty dollars an hour for every hour that you work as a handyman. Is that sufficient?”
Cloe blinked. Then blinked again. “You want to pay me extra for doing handyman work?”
Ms. Petersen’s smile slipped as her expression turned confused. “Of course, why would I expect you to do that for free when I hired you to be my helper? No,” she shook her head firmly, “if you’re going to do extra work then you’ll get paid for it. My brother will be more than happy to pay you for it, especially since he was supposed to do it himself for the past ten years.”
Cloe felt her eyes widen at that announcement. “No, that’s fine. I’ll do it when the rest of my chores are done.” No way was she about to sit around while an old man climbed a ladder and fell, then had a massive heart attack and died. Yeah, she could live without the added guilt.
Ms. Petersen looked back at her list for a moment before putting it away. “Let’s see, there’s also cooking, shopping, and running errands,” she said, worry taking over her features as she finished her small list with a distressed, “Oh, no!”
She threw her arms up and tried to get to her feet. It took several tries and one of Cloe’s hands before she managed to stand up. “There’s nothing in the house to eat!” she announced as she grabbed her cane and headed towards an oversized black purse. “I’m afraid my brother forgot to do the shopping again,” she said with a weary sigh. “It’s one of the reasons why I finally decided to get a helper.”
Cloe nodded, wondering just how much this woman expected of her brother. If he was anything like his sister he probably had enough problems with just taking care of himself.
Ms. Petersen pulled out another list. “Would you mind terribly going grocery shopping? You can add whatever you want to the list for snacks.”
Cloe took the list and placed it in her pocket. “That’s very kind, but it wouldn’t be right. Meals are one thing, but I wouldn’t feel right about having you pay for my snacks. I’ll pay for them and if I have something you like then we’ll share.”
“Oh!” Ms. Petersen looked absolutely delighted. Then she frowned. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what kind of snacks they have nowadays. It’s been so long since I’ve been to the grocery store. Usually my brother takes the list and storms off.”
Cloe’s heart broke at Marta’s wistful expression. She had no doubt that Ms. Petersen would prefer to go shopping for herself and get out of the house. Cloe didn’t know much about her brother, but the least he could do was take his sister out for a ride.