His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 4 The Interview

Moana

I pulled up to the address of the house a couple of hours later wearing a brand new set of clothes. During the time between getting the phone call and arriving, I took out my credit card, which I only used for emergencies, and ran out to buy something new to impress the family. It was just a crisp button-down shirt, tailored pants, and loafers, but as I pulled up to the enormous mansion in the mountains and saw the line of women at the door, I was glad that I had purchased the new clothes. I made sure to double check that the tags on the clothes were hidden, which I had kept on in case I didn’t get the job and would need to return them.

As I parked and walked up the pathway to the front entrance and got in line with my resume in my hand, my heart started to pound.

My heart started to pound even more when I noticed that women were not only filing into the mansion, but were also coming out with sad and defeated expressions on their faces. One girl, who was very pretty and looked a little younger than me, even had tears streaming down her cheeks as she came out with her resume crumpled up in her hands.

Was the employer so awful that he was making these poor women cry during their interviews?

As the line got shorter and I slowly made my way inside, I felt a lump rise in my throat. The inside of the house was stunningly beautiful, with dark Tudor-style wainscoting and creaky wooden floors. There was a massive double staircase in the front foyer, which was where the women would go when their names were called — up one side looking excited and confident, and down the other side looking defeated after their interviews.

“Name?” a woman’s voice said from in front of me. I looked up to see an older woman with gray hair that was pulled back into a tight, slick bun. She wore a dark blue dress with a high collar that was buttoned all the way up and had a clean gray apron on top that looked like it was freshly ironed. Needless to say, as she stared at me with her thin lips pressed into a straight line, she made me nervous.

“Moana Fowler,” I said, feeling my voice crack a bit under the pressure.

The woman muttered something to herself and looked down at the clipboard in her hand, making a tick mark next to my name.

she said, shooting me a somewhat disgusted look. I

plush armchair in

running down the stairs in hysterics. “She’s a little monster!” she said, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “In all my years of being a governess, I have

must have decided that whatever waited for them upstairs wasn’t worth it. I, along with several others, decided to take the risk; I really needed this job, regardless of the child’s behavior. The children at the orphanage I volunteered at absolutely loved me, even the difficult ones, and I was certain that I could find the good side in this

hours while I waited for my turn to have my interview, and eventually, as the sun went down and I sank into the plush armchair,

“Moana Fowler.”

before called my name and looked up to

I’m sorry,” I said, sitting upright and nervously wiping a bit of drool off of the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “Is it my turn?” I looked around to see that the waiting room was completely

said sternly, stepping away from me and gesturing toward the

standing with my resume clutched in my hand. “I’m sorry I dozed off,

wish to see any more candidates,” she interrupted. “Especially not young, pretty girls

heart drop into my stomach

her. I promise you won’t regret it if you just give

before sighing. “Fine,” she said, turning

wooden doors. Finally, we stopped

I’m tired!” a small voice growled from behind a high-backed chair that faced the empty fireplace. “I don’t want

I said

room. Suddenly, as if my appearance didn’t meet her standards, the little girl leaped out of her seat and rushed toward me, her childish face twisted into an angry snarl and her werewolf fangs bared. Between the mop of messy blonde

of fury, which only became more furious as I continued to ignore her displays

running like the rest?!” she shouted, her

girl’s gaze. Her hair had fallen into her eyes. I slowly extended my hand to brush it away; she flinched, growling and baring her teeth, but let me do it when I persisted,

as the little girl’s ears

floor, and when she spoke

Ella,” I said. “My name is Moana. Can