It was Wednesday, when something like the appearance of a comet happened. Someone knocked on the door and I opened to see a short, white, blond girl, with blue eyes. I felt uncomfortable since I had expected someone a lot older, and black. Someone of my color.
“Chloe?” I asked.
I invited her inside and had her sit on the living room couch. It was quiet for a while as I groped to choose the right words to say to her. “How old are you?” I asked, leaning awkwardly on the couch.
“Twenty-four. I know you said in your ad that you were looking for someone above thirty, but I really need this job.”
“Let me take you into the backyard.” I led her out the back door. “If you can get this garden thriving in at least four months, I’ll keep you.”
“Will I get paid?”
“I’ll pay you every day you come.”
“When can I start?”
“Today, if you want.”
I brought her back inside, and in the living room, she said, “I was raised on a farm. I can drive a plow.”
“What part are you from?”
“California.” She sat down. “Are you a photographer?”
Wondering what made her ask that question, I looked around the room for a clue but couldn’t find any. My equipment was in the corner covered with a bed sheet. “Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“I’m fine, sir, but I think I should come back tomorrow unless you want me to work in this.”
I looked at her from head to toe. She looked ready to go to the mall or the beach. “Tomorrow’s good, Chloe, at nine. And please call me, Harrison. I’m younger than you are.”
“Sure, Harrison,” she said with a smile.
I walked behind her to the front door.
“If you get anything else, take it,” I said.
She nodded and walked away. I wasn’t sure about hiring Chloe. I wanted someone with experience, someone I wouldn’t feel sorry for.
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