Unsuitable

“You think there are some jobs women are better at.”

“Damn it, Joe.”

“He’s right.” Audrey sighed. Keeping Reece on the short list was the right thing to do, even if it made her anxious. And what was her anxiety about anyway? Did she honestly think Reece would molest a child, molest Mia? It was a horrific thought. Did that mean she naturally assumed a female carer would never interfere with a child?

That might hold if there were no dreadful mothers who hurt their kids or amazing fathers who raised their kids perfectly competently alone. But the bias was so strong, it lined her stomach. It would be easy to give in to it and why not? Someone else could take the risk on Reece. Mia was too important to be the staging ground for a battle about gender and ability and equality. But she was also too important not to be.

Audrey wanted a world where no one told Mia what she could and couldn’t do to earn her living. Where her interests and capabilities were what determined the work she choose to do, not centuries-old prejudice, ingrained beliefs about what men and women were naturally good at, or an old boys’ network, or the kind of ingrained bias that made people hire like people.

And he’d had eleven interviews and eleven other parents had decided against him, despite glowing references. How likely was it that his gender had a lot to do with that decision?

“Reece stays on the list until there’s a reason other than his sex to take him off, or another candidate does better.”

“Them’s fightin’ words, Aud,” said Joe.

Merrill shoved plastic containers in a plastic bag ready to throw out. “Are you sure?”

She shrugged. No, not sure, but Reece had so far given her no reason to distrust him, and keeping him on the list wasn’t a big deal. “Joe really says merry hell?”

“He really does.” Merrill looked at Joe with such fondness, Audrey suspected he’d be saying it tonight. “He’s going to make the best dad, after he learns about paper towels.”

Joe furrowed his brow in pretend annoyance. “Hey, a guy in the throes of passion can’t be held accountable for what he says.”

Merrill tied a knot in the top of the plastic bag. “Or what he licks.”

Audrey laughed. “Oh, too much.”

“Okay, I’ll never lick the microwave turntable again, but it was good gravy.”

Merrill considered that. “I’ll forgive you. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll let you leave off the raincoat if you admit you cried during The Notebook.”

“No fair.” Joe made a production out of sighing. He looked at Audrey. “The things a man has to do for merry hell.”

Merrill came around the table and slung her arm over Audrey’s shoulder. All the better to gang up on Joe.

He looked at them, shook his head and closed his eyes. “Okay, okay, I cried.”

They hooted so loudly Audrey thought they’d probably woken Mia. She braced for a little voice from down the hall and Joe said, “Well I did, it was a bloody sad movie.”

5: Family Affair

“But why?”

Reece grinned at Flip across the kitchen counter. “Because I asked you to.”

“But why?”

He knew she could keep this up all day. It was a being ten years old thing. He had to be strategic about catching her out. “Because this is another job interview and I really want this job.”

“But why?”

Beside Flip at the breakfast counter, Etta rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Reece, why are you letting her do this?”

“Because I’m going to win, and do you have to swear?”

“That wasn’t swearing,” said Etta. Sixteen was the age at which knowing how to swear like a builder’s labourer and take the Lord’s name in vain was important. But if Etta did it Flip would, and Flip was a ten year old. No way. But it was another battle he had to pick.

Flip said, “But why?”