Rebecca placed her hands quietly on her bag. “Various things, sir. I worked at a grocery store for 2 years, stocking shelves, helping customers, keeping the stock room organized. Before that, I helped an elderly woman in her home, cooking, cleaning, running errands. I also did some tailoring work on the side.” She paused. “I learn quickly, and I don’t need to be told the same thing twice.”
The corner of Mr. Caleb’s mouth moved. Not quite a smile, but something close to it, an acknowledgment.
“What made you leave the grocery store?” he asked.
“The owner closed it down. His family moved away, and he went with them.”
She said it simply, without self-pity.
“And the elderly woman?”
“She passed away. Her children sold the house.” A brief pause. “It was a good job while it lasted. She was a gentle person.”
Mr. Caleb was quiet for a moment. He was watching her the way he watched everything, carefully and without rushing.
“This house,” he said, “runs on a schedule. I wake early. I work long hours. I do not like noise when I’m working, and I do not like things being moved from where they belong.”
He said this plainly, not unkindly.