I was sure Bethany the Great had tons of experience under her belt before she’d left to become Mommy of the Year, and sure, her bed rest was a bit of an inconvenience to everyone, but glancing down at her desk, she’d obviously started planning for such an occasion. There were sticky notes and printed out directions for her worthy successor, who’d somehow turned out to be me.

Perhaps I’d fudged a little too much on my résumé, exaggerating my duties as assistant to the university president over the four years I’d been a student. Fetching coffee and alphabetizing files just didn’t look that exciting when I’d typed it out, so I’d embellished.

A lot.

And now, here I was. Administrative assistant to one of the most prestigious businessmen in all of New York.

Holy mother of God, am I sweating?

As I casually glanced down to do a quick pit check, I noticed Gretchen staring at me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I said, heat burning my cheeks, as my stomach rolled with nervousness.

“Is there anything else you might need?”

“Oh, um… no?” I answered, insecurity woven in each hesitant word.

“Okay, well, I will leave you to get settled, and I’ll check back with you after lunch. I still have a few documents for you to complete, so I’ll bring those with me then.”

“Right.”

“Good luck,” she said, her eyes going soft.

It was the same expression I would give my mom before she went to the dreaded dentist.

Good Lord, what had I gotten myself into?

In a daze, I watched her walk away. Before her slender frame disappeared behind the adjacent door, using the keycode we’d discussed, she stopped and turned abruptly.

“Cara?” she said, her voice reminding me of the tone my mother had used when I was younger.

“Yes?” I answered, looking up at her from the leather chair I’d somehow fallen into.

“Breathe. You’ll do just fine.”

Nodding, I did as she’d suggested and hoped like hell she was right.

When I was the ripe old age of nine, I had gone to my parents and explained that I thought I was old enough to start earning a living. Being the understanding and nurturing parents they were, my mother and father had agreed and actually helped me find my first job.

Hamster caretaker.

Our neighbors had planned a trip to Worlds of Fun in Kansas City and sadly couldn’t bring their pet hamster, Pringles. For the total of five dollars, I had been employed to care for Pringles for that long week. I had been so excited –my very first job!

I’d quickly found out that having a job wasn’t nearly as exciting as I’d thought. Pringles had done little to nothing all day, and the most thrilling aspect of my job had been cleaning poop.

I’d retired after a week, and my career as a hamster caretaker had quickly ended.

This job though—working for Mr. Cavenaugh—was just as boring. Minus the poop, thankfully.