Well dressed.
Serious-looking.
But there was something unusual about his expression when he saw me.
He stared for a second too long.
Then he smiled.
“You’re Nora.”
“Yes.”
“And this must be Emily.”
Emily hid behind my coat.
Richard crouched down.
“Hello, Emily.”
She didn’t answer.
“That’s all right,” he said. “I wasn’t very talkative at her age either.”
I smiled.
“You were shy?”
“No.”
He stood.
“I was suspicious.”
That made me laugh.
Richard looked at me.
For a brief moment, something changed in his expression.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
“What happened to your previous housekeeper?” I asked.
“She retired.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Because she was seventy-nine and decided she preferred gardening to working.”
I laughed again.
Richard smiled.
“I have a feeling you’re going to ask a lot of questions.”
“I need to know what I’m walking into.”
“Good.”
Then he surprised me.
“I’ll arrange childcare for Emily.”
I frowned.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I can manage.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why?”
He looked at Emily.
“Because children shouldn’t have to pay for their parents’ problems.”
Something about the way he said it made me uncomfortable.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it sounded personal.
I accepted the job.
I didn’t know it then, but that decision would change everything.
Richard was nothing like the wealthy men I had imagined.
He didn’t shout.
He didn’t humiliate staff.
He didn’t flaunt his money.
He was quiet.
Sometimes too quiet.
He loved books.
He loved his garden.
And, unexpectedly, he loved Emily.
Within months, she was completely comfortable around him.
One afternoon, I walked into the living room and stopped.
Richard was on his hands and knees.
Emily was sitting on his back.
“Faster!” she shouted.
Richard looked at me.
“Nora, your daughter is trying to kill me.”
Emily giggled.
“You’re a horse!”
“I was a respectable businessman before you came here.”
“Horse!”
Richard sighed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Another afternoon, I found him sitting at Emily’s tiny table drinking imaginary tea.
She handed him a plastic cup.
“Sugar?”
“Two.”
“Milk?”
“A little.”
She pretended to pour.
Richard took a sip.
“Excellent.”
Then Emily looked at me.
“Mommy, Richard is funny.”
I smiled.
“Yes, he is.”
Richard looked at me.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
