Remembering that this woman obviously worked in the fashion world, and that the neighborhood was very affluent, Cassie was eager to give a good impression. She detoured to the restrooms, where she smoothed her hair down and checked that there were no crumbs on her top after eating the flaky, mascarpone-filled pastry.
Then she headed for the house and pulled up outside the ornate wrought-iron gate at exactly two minutes to two.
She was shaking with nerves, and wishing she was more confident about her own ability to decide if the job was right for her. She would have to make a snap judgment about it. There would be a lot of variables to consider and what if she missed the important ones?
It felt like a huge leap of faith to even think about going back into au pairing after the experiences she’d had. If she hadn’t been so determined to stay in the area and find out what had happened to Jacqui, she would never have considered taking this job.
Forcing herself to breathe deeply and stay calm, Cassie leaned out the window and pressed the gate buzzer.
After a pause, the gate swung open and she headed up the paved driveway which wound its way through the gardens.
She parked under an Italian olive tree, next to a triple garage, encouraged to see that there were no other cars parked nearby. Hopefully that meant she was the first applicant to arrive.
Cassie walked up the pathway to the enormous wooden front door. She rang the doorbell and heard it chime far away in the house.
She’d expected that the door would be answered by a parlor maid or assistant, but a few moments later she heard the click of high heels, and the front door was opened by a woman who looked to be about forty years old, with an unmistakable air of authority.
She was at least half a head taller than Cassie, but much of her height was thanks to an exquisite pair of peacock blue leather boots with tall, curved heels. Her dark hair was artfully styled in waves over her shoulders. A heavy gold chain gleamed around her neck, and gold bracelets jangled on her arms as she opened the door wide.
“Buongiorno,” she said. Her voice, too, had an authoritative ring to it. “You must be here for the au pair interview?”
“Good afternoon. Yes, I am. My name’s Cassie Vale. I’m early, I know. The lady I spoke to said two-thirty but I was worried about being late.”
Aware she was babbling nervously, Cassie closed her mouth in a hurry.
But the woman seemed pleased about her timekeeping. Her perfectly lipsticked mouth curved in a smile.
“Punctuality is a politeness. I insist on it, for myself and everyone who works with me. So I thank you for the courtesy. I am Ottavia Rossi. Please come inside.”
Overwhelmed that she’d already made a positive impression, especially since she found the woman’s presence intimidating, Cassie followed her in.
Walking into the spacious atrium, Cassie noticed a number of colorful art and décor items on display. The bright paintings, vases, and vibrant rugs stood out and made the home look like a modern, yet welcoming, art gallery.
Ahead of her was a high staircase of white marble, leading up to the top floors.
Cassie’s attention was drawn to a waist-high model of a bright red stiletto-heeled shoe which was set on a plinth to the right of the staircase. The shoe’s design was daringly exquisite.
Ms. Rossi smiled as she saw the direction of Cassie’s gaze.
“That is our ‘Nina’ model which propelled Rossi Shoes to international fame in the seventies. The design was decades ahead of its time, and as for the color, people were shocked by it—but not too scandalized to buy.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cassie said.
She guessed Ottavia Rossi must be the owner of this international company which, if it had been operational in the seventies, was most probably a long-established family business.
Ms. Rossi led her around the staircase and down a corridor. Craning her neck, Cassie glimpsed archways leading into a large modern lounge, and a gleaming kitchen where a cook was working.
Further down the corridor was a closed door. She opened it and ushered Cassie inside.
This elegant space was Ms. Rossi’s study. She sat at the curved white table and waved Cassie to a seat on the other side.
Cassie suddenly realized that she had arrived empty-handed. She hadn’t prepared a resume, or even printed out her personal details and made a copy of her passport and driver’s license. This woman was a businessperson and would surely expect it. Cassie felt horrified that she had forgotten to do this.
“I’m so sorry,” she began. “I only recently arrived in Italy and I haven’t updated my resume yet. This job opportunity was so unexpected that I rushed here wanting to know more.”
To her relief, Ms. Rossi nodded.
“I understand. I traveled extensively myself in my early twenties—you look to be that age now, if I am correct?”
Cassie nodded. “Yes. I’ve got my actual passport on me if you’d like to take a look.”
“Thank you.”
Ms. Rossi took the document and paged briefly through it before handing it back to Cassie.
“Now, you may give me a brief outline of the work you have done,” she said.
On hearing this, Cassie felt sick, because she realized that she could not even give references for any of the work she claimed to have done since being in Europe. Her first employer was involved in a murder trial and would have nothing good to say about her—in fact, Cassie was sure that he would immediately try to pin the blame on her, and insist he had been wrongfully accused.
Her second employer was dead, murdered while Cassie was in his employment. Nobody in that family could possibly give her a reference. This wasn’t just a disaster, it was a catastrophe.
CHAPTER SIX
Cassie sat in silence, with her mind racing. She knew Ms. Rossi was waiting for her to speak, and that any hesitation would raise questions, but she had no idea what to say.
The word “murder” would be enough to put any potential employer off. Regardless of the circumstances, they would decide it wasn’t worth the risk.
Cassie couldn’t blame them. She was beginning to wonder if she herself was the bringer of bad luck—or else whether her own decisions had caused these horrific incidents to occur.
Her only option was to gloss over her recent experience, and focus on the work she’d done back in the States.
She cleared her throat and began speaking.
“I left home when I was sixteen and I put myself through college, working mostly as a waitress,” she said.
She didn’t elaborate on the reasons why she had left, but hoped that being independent and self-sufficient would win her favor in Ms. Rossi’s eyes. To her relief, the business owner nodded approvingly.
“I did some tutoring during that time, helped younger children with their studies, and I also worked at a daycare center for a short while, to cover for someone’s maternity leave. I was fully cleared and got all the necessary approvals to work, which I can show you on my phone. I also have a reference from the restaurant where I worked for two years, saying that I am a reliable and hard worker who always went out of her way to make customers happy.”
Fortunately, those documents had formed a part of her first au pair application and she had the copies saved online. Even though the restaurant work wasn’t relevant, it was her only real reference.
“Excellent,” Ms. Rossi said.
“Since being in Europe, I’ve traveled quite a bit. I started out au pairing for a family in Paris. The children then moved to the South of France, so I spent some time in the UK over December.”
Cassie’s face felt hot. Her story was riddled with holes. If Ms. Rossi questioned her version she would quickly find that Cassie hadn’t told her the full truth. But, to her surprise, the businesswoman seemed satisfied, and spoke in turn.
“I will give you some background on my situation. I was divorced a few months ago, and while I was able to work from home for a while, the business has become too busy now. We have expanded into a number of new markets and acquired more brands. We planned for this growth, of course, but it’s happened faster than we expected. My mother is going to move here to take care of the children, but she needs time to prepare and pack up. So I will need you for three months. It will be live-in, of course. The children are well behaved, and we have a cook and a driver, so it will not be too onerous a responsibility.”
Cassie swallowed.
“What are the children like? Could you tell me more about them, please?”
“Two girls, aged eight and nine. Nina is the older, and Venetia the younger. They are well behaved.”
Since Ms. Rossi did not seem to have much more to say about the children, Cassie gathered her courage to ask.
“Could I meet them, perhaps? See how we get along, before I decide?”
She had no idea whether Ms. Rossi might think this question rude, after she had vouched for her children’s behavior.
The businesswoman nodded.
“Of course. They will be back from school by now. Follow me.”
She stood up and swept out of the room with Cassie hurrying behind.
Cassie felt awestruck by this woman’s air of authority. If this was what it took to run a successful international company, she couldn’t imagine herself ever doing the same. Not in a million years. She was not the caliber of person and did not have the same commanding presence.
Luckily, she felt that Ms. Rossi seemed to like her. At any rate, she didn’t seem to have an inherent dislike for her, which was what she’d sensed with her French employers.
They headed to the marble staircase and upstairs. The house was built in the shape of a horseshoe, with two main wings. The children’s rooms were upstairs and to the right of the horseshoe.
The click of Ottavia Rossi’s heels on the tiled floor was loud enough to signal the children that she was arriving, and Cassie was impressed to see the two dark-haired girls come out of their bedrooms and stand side by side, waiting, as they approached.
They were wearing smart, long-sleeved dresses that looked identical except for the color—one was yellow, the other blue. Their brightly colored moccasins made Cassie wonder whether Rossi Shoes had a children’s range and if so, whether this was part of it.
“Children, I would like you to meet Cassie,” Ms. Rossi said. “She is here for an interview, and might be looking after you for the next few weeks. Perhaps you would like to greet her, and answer her questions?”
“Good afternoon, pleased to meet you,” the children said in chorus, and Cassie was surprised that their English was excellent.
The taller girl stepped forward.
“I am Nina.”
She held out a hand and Cassie took it, surprised by the formal greeting.
“I am Venetia,” the younger girl said.
Cassie shook her small, warm hand. Although this setup felt rather awkward, and standing formally in the corridor was not the ideal place to chat and relax, she knew she needed to prove that she was a friendly and likeable person.
She smiled at the children.
“You both have beautiful names.”
“Thank you,” Nina said.
“Did you go to school today?”
Venetia seemed eager to reply.
“Yes. We do our homework in the afternoon. That is what we are busy doing now.”
“Wow, you are very good girls. What is your favorite subject at school?”
The two girls exchanged a glance.
“English,” Nina volunteered.
Venetia paused.
“I like math.”
Cassie was amazed. Clearly, this was what it took to be successful—discipline and a love for studying from a young age. She could see already that these girls were following in their mother’s footsteps and could envision the golden path of their future.
She guessed these girls would have opportunities that she herself had never been able to dream of. For a moment, Cassie wondered what it must be like to be born with a love for studying, and to be the heirs to a fashion empire.
“What about your activities? What do you like to do outside of school?”
Again the girls exchanged a glance.
“I enjoy my singing lessons,” Nina said.
“I like to ride horses. We both go for lessons on Sunday,” Venetia added.
“That sounds amazing,” Cassie said, and her impression of their lives broadened. Not only were these young girls driven, motivated, and academically inclined, but they were able to pursue activities Cassie had only ever dreamed of being able to afford.
She realized that this family, in their modern yet gracious house, was similar to the ones she read about in the glossy magazines at the hairdresser. They were the elite of society, and it was exciting, and rather overwhelming, to be associated with them.
The only flaw in their perfect life must have been the divorce, and Cassie wondered what Ms. Rossi’s husband had been like. Presumably, seeing the Rossi empire was headed up by her side of the family, she’d either gone back to her maiden name after the divorce or had never used his name. She wondered if the children had been traumatized by the divorce, and if they spent any time with their father. These were all questions that she needed to ask Ms. Rossi, or even the children themselves, but not now.
With a shock, Cassie realized that she was thinking ahead, as if in her mind she’d already decided to take the job.
The children were looking up at her expectantly. They hadn’t moved from their positions. It was as if they were awaiting her permission to leave, and she was impressed all over again by their self-control.
“Thank you so much for talking to me,” she said. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Do you need to carry on with your homework now?”
“Go, children,” Ms. Rossi said, and they disappeared into their bedrooms.
As they walked back down the passage, Cassie couldn’t help but praise them.
“They’re amazing. I’ve never known young children who are so obedient and well disciplined. And with such a love for studying as well, you must be very proud of them.”
Ms. Rossi sounded pleased as she replied.
“They are a work in progress, as I believe every child is,” she said. “They have a business to inherit one day so I am striving to instill the correct values in them.”
They descended the tall staircase and returned to the study.
“So, now that you have met the family, we will talk about the position,” she said. “You are the first to arrive—after Abigail’s mess-up with the jobs, there were not many other candidates we were able to contact. You seem competent, and the children appear to interact well with you. If you would like the assignment I can offer it to you. You will be required to spend time with them after school, and on Sundays. School hours are from eight until one-thirty unless they have afternoon activities.”
Cassie took a deep breath. She felt complimented that Ms. Rossi thought she was a high enough caliber of person to look after her two exceptional daughters. She hadn’t even asked for phone numbers to check any of Cassie’s references.
“I believe every opportunity opens a door,” Ms. Rossi continued. “If you are capable in this role, there may be future possibilities ahead. We regularly have intern positions opening up, so if you would like to stay in Italy longer after this assignment ends, and work in the fashion world, it can most probably be arranged.”
Cassie’s heart leaped. This was more than just a temporary assignment. It might even be a future career direction, and a way to improve her chances of finding and reconnecting with Jacqui.
She imagined herself and her sister, both with successful jobs in the fashion industry, renting a gorgeous apartment in a scenic and upmarket neighborhood. In the evenings, they could chat about their day’s work and take turns cooking, before heading into town to dance and party.