Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin

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      When I arrived at the office, I was informed that Leslie was out working on a build site in Newton, close to home. I’d come all the way into the city for nothing. For a second, I considered giving up on the job search and putting my trip into Boston to good use: shopping. Instead, I asked for directions to the house under construction and headed right over. Progress!

      The house was on Mill Street, near Boston College’s Newton campus, close enough to take advantage of the college’s library but far enough to be a comfortable family neighborhood. Like most of the Habitat sites I’d worked on, the house was a bright new breath of air on a stale, old street. It screamed hope and possibility, all the things I liked best about working with Habitat for Humanity. The whole “up with people” vibe always got me. Of course, I hadn’t done much more than help write a few fliers and tap some resources for funding. The one time I tried to help at a build site was an unmitigated disaster. At least, according to Josh Brandon, the site manager.

      So I wasn’t the best builder. Yes, my nails never went in straight, and power tools weren’t exactly my thing. But the man needed to relax. What did he expect from untrained volunteers, anyway? If he’d let me paint, as I’d suggested, everything would have been just fine. I could accomplish amazing things with a brush or roller.

      As I got out of the car, I caught sight of Josh across the site. Even though he had covered his shock of prematurely silver-gray hair with a hard hat, I could tell it was Josh by the way the flannel hugged his broad, construction worker shoulders. He was five feet ten inches of dense muscle, built as solid as any house he worked on. Though he annoyed me personally, he was an undisputed master of his profession. Even from a distance, he looked a lot calmer today than he had the last time I’d seen him.

      Until he looked up and spotted me. Though his facial expression was hidden behind protective eyewear, his body flinched as if I’d sucker punched him in the abs.

      “Hide the power tools,” he called across the site.

      His Boston accent was as thick as his soccer player thighs, so it sounded more like powah tools. He was a good ol’ Boston boy, the type that worked hahd and enjoyed a few beeahs aftah work. Just a few. His work ethic matched his build, rock solid.

      Heads looked up, then down again when they saw nothing but a harmless little lady in a power suit. Donna Karan, navy pin-striped, fluted skirt, worn with some serious heels. Pilates had given me great calves. If it helped sway any executive decisions in my favor, so be it.

      “Good morning to you, too, Mr. Brandon,” I said to show his little teasing had not unnerved me as I closed the distance, effortlessly stepping over wood beams and cords in my stilettos. I am woman, see me walk. Skill with power tools had nothing on the skill required to walk in heels.

      From the corner of my eye, I spied Leslie waving at me from the top of a scaffold on the side of the house. I flashed a smirk at Josh and headed in Leslie’s direction.

      “Hey, looking to sign up for our phone bank this weekend?” she said, obviously assuming I had come for volunteer purposes. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

      “Actually, it’s a social call. But I am looking for some advice.”

      “Great. What can I do you for?” She climbed down and brushed dust from her hands.

      “I need a job.” I forced confidence into my tone, as if I got great jobs all the time. Jedi mind trick, as Spencer would say. “Something light, easy, not very important, but it has to pay well.”

      “If I knew where to find that job, I guarantee you it would be filled. By me! Hello.”

      I resisted rolling my eyes. Leslie’s conversational quirks were one of the reasons I never sought Leslie on a social basis, even though I enjoyed her company at volunteer sites.

      “Not that it isn’t a perfect description of what I do now at H for H.”

      “Your job’s important,” I said, by way of defense. “What would all the families who need houses do without you?”

      “Actually, you have great timing. I need to scale down my hours.”

      “No way.”

      “Way.” Leslie nodded. “My Web design company is taking off and I need to give it more attention. Besides, it pays more than H for H. I charge up to a hundred bucks an hour, and I end up getting it. Go figure.”

      “Go figure.”

      “Don’t get me wrong, I love working here. But it’s too much. If I could cut my hours and give some of my duties over to an assistant—Interested?”

      “In being your assistant?”

      “More like codirector. It wouldn’t pay much. Probably my salary split in half. But it’s a start, right?”

      “I don’t think I’m qualified. I don’t even have a résumé. Yet. But—”

      “You’re plenty qualified. You practically raked in the funding for all of last year on your own just by tapping your trusty acquaintance list. All the board needs is my recommendation and you’re in. Plus, you’ll have me to show you the ropes. Eventually, who knows? Maybe you can take over and I can bow out.”

      “Just like that?” It was true that I’d used my community contacts, numerous thanks to Patrick’s job in real estate, to drum up a lot of interest and money for the cause. I was a pretty good communicator, and a real people person. I was perfect for the job.

      “Just like that. Consider yourself hired. I mean, as soon as I run it by the board and all.”

      It couldn’t hurt that I was on a first-name basis with most of the board. The job was mine!

      “Leslie, you’re incredible!” A weight lifted right off my chest. Really, it was amazing news. I didn’t have to look for a job. I didn’t need a résumé. No longer would I have to cry about being widowed and beg for mercy just to get an entry-level position doing who knew what? I was spared! “Thank you. Thanks so much.”

      “Yeah, just come in on Monday dressed for work and we’ll get you started.”

      “Monday? So soon?”

      “I’ll get the board together and put it to a vote, but yeah. Pretty much. It may not be official right away, but close enough. The sooner you take over half my duties, the sooner I can scale back.”

      “Okay. I’ll see you Monday.”

      I turned, lost in thought, lost in excitement, lost in the process of deciding what to wear…and lost my footing. I felt my ankle twist at an awkward angle. I felt my body going down. I felt an unbelievable wrench of white-hot pain shooting through my leg. And then I didn’t feel a thing.