Chapter 8 - The Job Offer
On Thursday morning, the house was remarkably clean.
The guest rooms had been vacuumed, the trash had been removed, and the tangled cords in Evan's office had been neatly zip-tied and plugged into a heavy-duty surge protector. I had signed off on the inspection at six o'clock the previous evening without a word, much to Madison’s obvious relief.
At nine o'clock, while I was working in my office, my phone rang.
It was an unknown number with a local area code. I answered it, expecting a telemarketer.
"Hello, is this Laura?" a polite, professional female voice asked.
"Yes, this is Laura."
"Hi, Laura. My name is Sarah, and I'm the hiring manager at Target on 8th Street. I'm calling because we received an application from a Madison Miller, and she listed you as a personal reference."
I paused, a sudden wave of surprise washing over me. Madison had applied for a job at Target? And she had listed me as a reference?
"Yes," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "Madison is my stepdaughter."
"Oh, wonderful!" Sarah said. "She applied for a position as a guest service representative. We're looking for someone who can handle customer complaints, manage the front lanes, and keep the service desk organized. Her resume lists some experience with social media management, but we were wondering about her reliability and her ability to work under pressure. Since she lives with you, we thought you might be able to give us an honest assessment."
I sat back in my chair, looking at the security monitor. Madison was sitting at the kitchen island, staring at her phone, her face anxious. She had obviously applied for the job in a moment of desperation, knowing that Friday was approaching and she had no other way to get the money.
I could have ruined her chances. I could have told the hiring manager that Madison was lazy, entitled, and had a terrible attitude. It would have been easy, and it would have ensured that she remained unemployed, forcing her to default on her rent and face eviction.
But that wasn't my goal. My goal was to make her grow up. And a job at Target—working forty hours a week, dealing with difficult customers, and earning an honest wage—was exactly what she needed.
"Madison is very capable," I said, choosing my words carefully. "She is organized, she has a strong eye for detail, and she is highly motivated to work right now. She has had to manage some difficult personal transitions recently, which has taught her a lot about resilience and responsibility. If you give her a chance, I think she will work very hard to keep her position."
"That's great to hear," Sarah said, sounding relieved. "We've had a lot of applicants who seem disinterested, but Madison's application was very thorough. We're going to call her in for an interview this afternoon. Thank you for your time, Laura."
"Thank you, Sarah. Have a great day."
I hung up the phone and sat in silence for a moment.
Ten minutes later, I heard Madison’s phone ring from the kitchen. I watched the security monitor as she answered it, her face lighting up with excitement as she listened to the person on the other end.
"Yes! Yes, I can make it at two o'clock!" she gasped, her voice trembling with excitement. "Thank you so much! I'll be there!"
She hung up the phone and let out a loud, ecstatic scream. She ran down the hallway to her room, shouting for Evan.
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"Evan! I got an interview! At Target! They want me to come in at two!"
I smiled, a genuine, warm smile. It was the first time since they had arrived that I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, my tough love was starting to work.
