My Lucky Groom

problems?”
    “You’re not helping her case.”
    Jason sat heavily in a chair. “Guess I’m not.” He flipped back through his tablet and shook his head. “Looks like we’ve gone through all of them.”
    “Maybe we need to up what we’re paying?” Richard suggested.
    “We’re already paying double the going rate.”
    “I don’t want just anyone looking after my kids.”
    “Of course you don’t.”
    “She has to be smart.”
    “Naturally.”
    “Attentive.”
    “Goes without saying.”
    “Nimble enough to think on her feet.”
    “And in the car.”
    Richard spouted a laugh. “Too true.” He smiled at Jason, grateful to have him in his company, not just as an assistant but as a friend. He’d been asking too much of him these past few weeks, having him pick up some nanny duties in addition to his already demanding job. Richard had to find a solution to this and soon. “Any brilliant thoughts?”
    “We can call some of the local colleges. A few have babysitting lists.”
    “I don’t know how the scheduling would work for somebody taking classes, but I guess we could give that a whirl.”
    “I’ll get on it right away.”
    “Thanks, Jason.”
    Jason met his eyes with a compassionate gaze. “Don’t worry, chief. We’ll find someone. And once we do, I’m going to guarantee it, she’ll have been worth the wait.”

    Ventura stared down at Richard’s business card in a sweat. For three weeks, she’d been pounding the pavement, cold-calling , and applying online, and so far she’d had only two meager interviews, neither of which had panned out. It was impossible to believe that with a graduate degree she couldn’t even land a secretarial job, but in this competitive market, that was how it seemed. And now, she was running out of money.
    She pulled a tissue from the box on the table to dab her damp forehead and too-hot neck. Since theirs was a basement apartment, Nanette didn’t believe air-conditioning was warranted. But by mid-June in Washington, even basement apartments were broiling hot. Not that Ventura blamed Nanette for pinching pennies. She basically lived on a widow’s pension supplemented by her meager rental income. Though this place was stretching her thin, it was far less expensive than any other place Ventura might rent on her own. And what she’d lost in privacy, she’d gained in a special new friend. It seemed she and Mary became closer every day. If only Ventura were gainfully employed, she’d feel better about things. As it was, she was having to be extra careful about finances.
    She’d tried to gloss over it, but Mary appeared to have picked up on it just the same. Just last night she’d offered to pay their tab for Zen’s Chinese Take-Out, supposedly in celebration of receiving her first big paycheck. Inwardly, Ventura knew Mary was being kind. Ventura was getting to the point where she could no longer afford take-out food. Things were getting desperate. If there were another way, she’d seize it. But the only other way Ventura could see at the moment involved giving up on her dreams entirely and moving back home. And home wasn’t a place where Ventura was necessarily welcome. Her mom had sold the big house and moved into a condo, which basically accommodated her and her half-time , live-in boyfriend, along with his gigantic, drool-happy dog.
    Ventura took a long sip of water, then set down the bottle, preparing to dial. She hoped to find a way to sound casual about it and not present herself as being quite as desperate as she was. She couldn’t chance giving Richard the idea that there was something wrong with her. She’d at least need to secure an interview to have a shot at the job. She punched in Richard’s number and fidgeted nervously with her scrawled-on legal pad as the phone rang two, then three times… In case he didn’t answer, she’d written down precisely what she would say to his voice-mail box.
    “Richard Blake,” he answered in an even clip that sounded ultraprofessional.
    Ventura stared hard at her legal pad, and all sense of reason flew out the window. “Um…”
    “Is someone there?” he asked seriously.
    “Yes! Hello. This is Ventura Hart.”
    He paused a beat, then answered, “Ventura, hi. How nice to hear from you. How’s the job hunt going?”
    “Not so well,” she answered honestly.
    “I’m” — he hesitated a moment before finishing — “sorry.”
    “Yes, well. You know how it is.”
    “Very competitive