Page 3 of Sins of the Father

I grab my phone. "Patricia, hold the Kelly interview. I'll join you."

"Mr. Kavanagh, I've already?—"

"Ten minutes." I hang up.

The next screen shows Patricia greeting Orla, escorting her toward the conference room. I take the private elevator to the third floor, arriving as they start talking.

Their voices drift through the closed door.

"—gap in your employment history?" Patricia asks.

"My aunt fell ill last year. She had no one else to care for her. After my parents died she cared for me, it was only right for me to do the same."

Her voice is confident, warm, with a hint of a South Boston accent. I push open the door.

Patricia startles, her annoyance disappearing as she spots me. "Mr. Kavanagh, I didn't expect?—"

"I'll take over from here," I say. "Thank you, Patricia."

She pauses, then nods. "Of course. Ms. Kelly, it was nice meeting you." She collects her papers and leaves, she knows better than to hang about.

Orla is motionless throughout the exchange. No fidgeting, no false smiles. Just those alert green eyes missing nothing. She stands up, extending her hand to me.

"Cillian Kavanagh. A pleasure, Ms. Kelly."

Her handshake is firm. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kavanagh. I was expecting HR, not the boos."

I sit across from her rather than at the head of the table. Position matters. Across from her disarms her, giving me full view of her reactions.

"So, you want the executive assistant position."

"Yes. Your company has an excellent reputation in international trade. I think I have what it takes to work with the best."

Rehearsed. I smile coldly. "Tell me about the six months caring for your aunt."

She meets my eyes. "My aunt Margaret caught pneumonia last winter, then suffered a stroke. With no other family available, I took leave from my position."

"And where is Aunt Margaret now?"

A brief pause. "She passed away three months ago."

I nod once. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"Your resume lists experience with finances and administration. Explain."

She details systems she has managed, and how her experience overlaps. Everything sounds reasonable, but her answers feel too practiced. Maybe she’s just nervous—or well prepared.

"Why Kavanagh Imports specifically?"

"Your company connects international markets I find fascinating. The role demands discretion and organization—my strengths. And the salary matches my needs."

Fair enough. I change direction.

"Your previous employer said you left abruptly."

A test—I spoke to no one. Her face stays neutral.

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