I might have to find out for myself. Just to understand her, of course.
I clicked off, glancing at the security screens. Joyce was at her desk, her head bowed, fingers busy with her knitting. The halls were empty, the café busy, and all was well. Everything ran with a smooth efficiency that pleased me.
Damien came in, coffees in hand and a laptop tucked under his arm.
“Hey, Julian.”
I accept a cup gratefully. One thing Joyce did badly was make coffee. It was akin to drinking dark water. We kept the café downstairs busy every day with coffee orders.
“Find a new Joyce?”
I sipped the black brew, giving myself a moment before I answered. “Yeah.”
“When does she start?”
“Monday.”
“I don’t suppose you hired someone who bakes this time? Makes good coffee?”
“Strangely enough, those questions didn’t come up during the interview,” I stated dryly.
“They should. I don’t need another afghan.”
I chuckled. “I doubt Taliyah knits afghans.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Taliyah?”
“That’s her name.” I pushed her résumé toward him. “She’s younger than the usual Joyce.”
He read the document, pursing his lips in surprise. “Definitely not another Joyce.”
I shrugged. “Time for a change.”
He nodded slowly. “Right.”
“I got the feeling she was pretty desperate.”
“Need me to check her out?”
“I did. She’s clean. I don’t think her art history degree is going to pay the bills, though.”
“Oh yeah. Those jobs are hard to come by.”
“She’s got spunk. She convinced the agency to send her.”
“And she convinced you to hire her,” he added.
“I can always revoke that if she doesn’t work out. I gave her a one-month trial.”
He studied me but didn’t say anything.
I met his gaze steadily. “You got anything on that situation in Ottawa?”
He handed me a file. “Yeah. I think we have all the pieces.”
“Great. Let’s get it going.”
Monday, I waited eagerly for Taliyah to arrive. She was early, garbed in another pretty dress that showed off her legs. She had her hair pulled up and back, tiny bunches of curls escaping from her attempt to tame them and showing off the elegant line of her neck.
She sat with Joyce, listening, taking notes, and asking questions. I kept my door open at times, and others, I watched from the hidden cameras. She was a delight to study, her expressions open and honest. She would make a horrible poker player. I’d already discovered when she was unsure, she nibbled on her bottom lip. When confused, she tugged on her ear. When she understood something, the right side of her mouth curled into a brief crooked grin and she tapped her chin with the pen or pencil she was holding. She had an unconscious way of smoothing back her hair from her head, which did little good. Corkscrew curls returned to the spot she cleared almost instantly. I tried not to be envious of those curls touching her head and neck.
With a groan, I stood and paced my office. This had to stop.
The security guys showed up as they always did after a weekend, filling in reports, time cards, collecting their next assignments. I always spoke with them personally, making sure everything was all right. Everyone had something to say about Taliyah, and I made it plain there was no office fraternization allowed, as per my rules. To their credit, not one of them reminded me there had never been a rule like that until today.
Luckily, most of them seemed more curious than anything, so I was able to relax.
Around eleven, there was a knock at my door, and Taliyah came in after I called out for her to enter. She approached my desk, carrying a cup of coffee and the mail.
I eyed the cup with speculation and accepted the mail.
“Finding everything all right?” I asked as if I hadn’t been glued to my screen watching her. I indicated the chair in front of my desk and was treated to the sight of her long legs being crossed again.
“Oh yes,” she assured me. “Joyce is a very good teacher. I’ve used the program she has before, so I understand it.” She bit her lip. “I think it could be used a little more productively,” she added in a whisper.
I tried not to laugh. I waved my hand in the direction of the front office. “Feel free. Once she leaves, make it yours.”
“I made the coffee,” she said. “Joyce said she used four scoops. I used seven.” She pulled a face. “Otherwise, why bother? It’s just hot water with some color.”
Once again, I was amused, but I lifted my cup and took a sip. It was way better than Joyce’s had ever been.
“I’ll keep it our secret.”
“Thanks.”
I cleared my throat, shoving down the temptation to simply talk to her. I needed to act like a professional.
“My office is private,” I began. “When I’m not here, no one is allowed in.”
She nodded, not saying anything.