The morning did not greet Richard kindly, his body revolting the need to rise with an overall ache akin to a hangover. He dressed for sport and slipped out a side entrance to jog around the crushed stone path that surround the estate grounds. The morning was cool, but moist air created a light fog that flowed in and about the dense stands of oak and beech trees upon bucolic hills. Richard tried to exercise every morning and develop a routine that cemented the best habit possible. His father always insisted that growth only occurred from a solid foundation, one where strength could be derived from assured nutrients. Richard had certainly grown into his own, but the constraints of his stodgy parents began to take effect. Interviewing<i>servants </i>was the last thing Richard wanted to do that morning, and he half toyed with the notion of cancelling or delegating the entire affair to James. He would be managing their efforts, so why not? His father's voice echoed in his mind; something about knowing every inch of oneself and those you rely upon.<i>Fine</i>, he seethed in private exasperation.<br/><br/><div class="bbm_float fleft" style="float:left;margin:0 10px 5px 0">
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</div>He returned to the house and showered, dressing in a loose, white button-down shirt and dark jacket. He hoped for these ladies sake that they came prepared to put their best forward; he already considered the task a menial waste of his time and wasn't in the mood to fuck around. Such was the lesson learned by 8:00am Estrada, who fronted more Hispanic attitude than work ethic. Her ejection after only fifteen minutes allowed Richard to grab a bowl of<i>mueslix </i>and an apple from the kitchen. 9:00am Rebecca presented herself as far more capable and predictable, even going so far as to leave a kind note and smile upon departure. Richard found himself impressed, and he wondered what 10am Evie could do that would best his current top choice. Richard considered the name "Evie," wondering whether it was a nickname or short for something else. Names often portrayed their owners, and Richard wondered what this Evie could be like.<i>Probably some shrill,Polish immigrant with bad breath</i>, he thought sourly. None of the ladies had resumes to review, so Richard thought about what questions he'd ask while walking down the hall. James had texted Richard that Evie had already arrives and waited in the reception office. However, about half-way toward the final interview, Richard's cell phone beeped from another text.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 12px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc">MARIAH HILLERS</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff99cc"><i><span style="font-size: 12px">Richard, Darling ... WHERE ARE YOU? I haven't seen you since Sunday, and it's TUESDAY already. You need to see this new dress I bought from Somerset downtown. I used your credit card, since I didn't have cash on hand ... not my fault, really. You're coming over this evening and taking me to dinner. Afterwards, you might get lucky if I decide I'm in the mood. CALL ME!</span></i></span><br/><br/>Richard didn't even bother responding, knowing that he'd need to deal with Mariah later that day. He wanted an open mind for this last interview, which would hopefully be brief and conclusive. He already had a salary proposition for Rebecca in mind when he rounded the corner and entered the room. Richard saw a flow of cascading, auburn hair running down a petite woman's back. He paused as she turned to face him. Her creamy skin and deep blue eyes literally shook Richard's foundations in a way that left him breathless. He swallowed and composed himself, forcing a smiles and reaching out to shake her hand.<br/><br/>"Evie? Hi, I'm Richard Pratt."