Page 64 of One Last Shot

Petra looks at me, her eyes wide, then looks back at the girl. “Will you excuse us for a minute?”

She nods, looking nervous, like she’s said too much even though all she did was give us the honest answer to Petra’s somewhat invasive question.

Petra stands and I follow her to the living room and then out to the entry.

“Hire her.” The words are out of her mouth in a whispered, frantic plea the minute we’re out of earshot.

“Without checking her references?” I ask. This seems very unlike Petra.

“Of course I want you to check her references.” She uses her hand to sweep the air like she’s shooing away that ridiculous notion. “But as long as they check out, this is our girl.”

God, I love the way she’s been using “we” during the interview and is saying “our” right now. But I need to not focus on that, because when we woke up this morning she had a text from her assistant about her flight home on Sunday. I need to accept that she’s leaving. I need to prepare Stella. And then I need to figure out how to get her back here as soon, and for as long, as possible.

“What makes you so sure this is the one?”

“She’s so chill. Like I could see her taking everything in stride—Stella’s huge personality, your very public career, the erratic schedule. And most importantly, the fact that she lost her parents when she was younger means she will have empathy for what Stella’s gone through, unlike Irina.” A shudder runs through Petra at the mention of the almost-nanny.

“I think she’ll be fine,” I say.

“That’s it?” Her whisper makes it sound like she’s hissing this question at me. Is my agreeing with her pissing her off?

“I agree with what you’re saying about why she’s a good fit.” I shrug. “And I could see her here in our lives. I feel like she’d be very easy to get along with and not, I don’t know, not take up too much space, you know?”

Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean by ‘not take up too much space’?”

I’m not sure why this is the wrong thing to have said, but I can tell by her response that it is. “I ...” I pause, considering my words. “I feel like Irina would have inserted herself into everything, insisting that her way was the only way. It would have been like living with a tyrant. Raina seems like the exact opposite. Like she’ll be flexible and easy to be around, but firm enough with Stella when needed. I’m not worried that if I’m home while she’s here with Stella, that she’ll be trying to nanny me too.”

Petra swallows. “Okay.”

“Why, what did you think I was saying?”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking off down the hallway behind me. I hate it when she won’t meet my eye. “I’m just sensitive to the idea that women ‘shouldn’t take up too much space.’ That phrase is used often to try and keep women in small boxes so their successes don’t threaten men.”

I put my hands on her shoulders and wait until she looks up at me. “You do know that’s not what I meant, right?”

“I do now,” she says. “Let’s not keep Raina waiting.” With that, she steps away and walks past me. Then she turns around quickly. “But when you offer her the job, can you make it contingent on her finishing up at Columbia? Stella is in school for six hours a day. She should at least be able to take some classes, even if not a full load. That degree is the key for her future, so she has options.”

It occurs to me then that I don’t think Petra ever went to college, and I wonder if she’s somehow insecure about that fact. “Okay, but I didn’t go to college,” I remind her.

“You’re a professional athlete.” She rolls her eyes. “Your career wasn’t dependent on it, and you’re set for the future with what you’ve earned so far.” She’s not wrong.

“What about you?” I ask.

“I supported myself with skiing and the endorsements that came along with it, and then modeled when skiing was over. I saved enough money from modeling to start my own business. Most people don’t have that luxury either.”

I want to ask her so many questions about how she got where she is, about her father, and if he got to see her successes before he died, about where she’s going from here. But she turns and walks back into the living room and I have no choice but to follow her.

“Thanks for your patience,” Petra says to Raina when we each take our seats.

“Of course,” she says.

Petra gives me a pointed look.

“We’d like to offer you the job,” I start. “As long as your references check out. I can make the calls this morning.”

“Thank you so much,” she gushes, the excitement evident in her voice.

“There are a couple conditions though, so I want to make sure you’re okay with them before I start making calls.”

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