Chapter Seven
“Come in,” a voice said, after Elle gave a light rap on the office door. It opened, revealing a woman who was about as far from what Elle was expecting as might be imagined. “Hello. You must be Elisa.” The woman rose from her desk and stuck out the hand she wasn’t using to hold a baby.
“Yes, hello. But please, call me Elle.”
“Oh, of course. I’m Evelyn Fitzgerald.”
Elle smiled at her as they shook hands, reminding herself that even as she was squaring the reality of the woman with her own pre-conceived notions, Evelyn was without a doubt doing the same to her.
“Please, have a seat. I just need to settle her majesty.” Evelyn indicated a large work table that took up one side of the cavernous room. “Can I get you some coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Thank you, but no.”
The woman moved with a sort of competent efficiency that Elle envied as she put the baby she’d been holding in a complicated-looking seat contraption. The child let out a blat of noise, then quieted. When Evelyn moved the seat-thing closer to the table, Elle couldn’t resist a peek into the device that was making a steady whirring noise as it rocked gently back and forth. “She looks like you,” she said, running a fingertip along the baby’s plump cheek.
“Ah, well, she looks more like her fa—” Evelyn stopped abruptly, making Elle glance over at her in surprise then sit back up, still trying to square what she’d expected and what she was seeing.
“Okay, so,” Evelyn said, sitting down across from Elle. “I hope you don’t mind my assistant here.” She indicated the seat.
Elle smiled, hoping to put the suddenly flustered woman at ease. “Of course not. I think that only Americans get wound up about bringing babies into the workplace. But…” She pointed to Evelyn’s blouse. “I’m afraid that you buttoned up incorrectly.”
“Oh, crap,” Evelyn said, her lovely face flushing red as she corrected the error. “I probably reek of baby shit and stale milk too.” Her bright blue eyes shimmered for a second until she blinked. “This is…exhausting.”
“I can imagine,” Elle said. “Take a deep breath. I’m in no hurry.” She glanced into the seat once more, catching sight of a pair of sweetly pursed baby lips. “What is her name?”
“Rose,” Evelyn said.
Elle nodded and tried not to stare at the woman across the table. Evelyn Fitzgerald was over six feet tall in her heels with a full, healthy-looking figure that would be expected after having a baby. She was just shy of stunningly beautiful, with her thick blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and the sort of perfectly proportioned facial features that Elle found fascinating. The faint aura of baby—milk with an undertone of lotion and, indeed, a touch of shit—filled the office space.
Elle glanced over at the huge desk where Evelyn had been sitting, working while feeding her child. It held a giant computer and an open laptop. Both screens were covered in colorful spreadsheets. The chaos of paperwork on the desk rivaled anything Elle had ever seen. But somehow, she had a sense that this woman—Evelyn with her misaligned blouse buttons and model-gorgeous, flushed face—had everything completely under control.
Elle didn’t know if she was impressed, or insanely jealous in a way she’d never, ever been about another woman.
“So, Elle,” Evelyn said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Your background is incredible. You’ve worked at some vastly different breweries.” She tapped Elle’s résumé which lay on the table between them.
Elle leaned forward on the table. “I know I must look like an odd candidate for this job, Mrs. Fitzgerald…”
“Evelyn, please.”
“Evelyn. But I assure you, I’m more than qualified and am eager to make the move from cellar man to assistant brewer. I’ve brought more references, if you’d like to see them.”
“To be honest, I was ready to hire you from your résumé alone. You have a degree in brewing science from Oregon State. Why are you messing around as anyone’s cellar man?”
“Ah, well, as you can see…” She passed both hands up and down her front, acknowledging her odd appearance. “I don’t always make such a great first impression I suppose. Besides, my last job was pretty…great. I mean, I left, of course.” She felt her ears burning hot, a dead giveaway that her face was doing that red blotchy thing in the middle of an important interview. “And, as I’m sure you know, this is a horribly sexist business.”
“Oh, boy, do I.” Evelyn sighed and leaned back. The hand she used to touch her face was shaking.
“Perhaps I should get you some water,” Elle said, her inner, natural caretaker taking over.
The other woman smiled at her. “I have some, right here,” she said, pulling a refillable water bottle from the bag next to the baby seat and taking a long drink. “I forget how dehydrated I get when I’m at work.”
Elle waited, her eagerness to work for this woman filling every corner of her mind. “I didn’t mind working my way up, even with my degree,” she insisted, hoping to cover her earlier gaff. “And I’ve passed up promotions, trust me, because some men are simply impossible to work for. I don’t know your brewer that well which means he doesn’t have an asshole of a reputation to precede him. Oops,” she said, covering her lips. “My mouth. Apologies.”
Evelyn laughed. “No, he’s not exactly an asshole. But he’s not the most creative guy on the planet, either. The trade-off, if you get me. Are you? Creative, I mean?”
“Very,” Elle said. “I was a trained chef before I went to the brewing institute. I was sous to a very famous man for a while, before…” She looked down at her hands, cursing herself for saying too much. But somehow, Evelyn Fitzgerald seemed to encourage that. “That’s not pertinent to this conversation. Again. Please accept my apologies.”
“No need to apologize. You didn’t include that on your résumé. The chef thing, I mean.”
“I don’t consider it relevant anymore.” Elle touched the space between her collarbones on reflex, then dropped her hand.
“So, when can you start?” Evelyn stood, holding out her hand.
Elle’s heart pounded as she rose and shook her new boss’s hand. “Tomorrow, if you like.”
“Great. Be here at eight-thirty. I’ll set you up with HR and get all that out of the way then introduce you to Bryan, my non-asshole, somewhat boring brewer.”
Elle laughed, feeling so comfortable in this woman-space that she wanted to cry instead. At that moment, Evelyn’s baby let out a loud wail that sounded sharp and alarming. She turned to the seat, pulled the blanket aside and touched Rose’s face. “She’s burning up. She’s so hot. I… How…? Oh shit.”
Elle put a hand on Evelyn’s arm. “May I hold her? While you find your phone, perhaps?”
With a shell-shocked expression on her face, Evelyn handed the wailing baby over. Elle held the child close to her lips, all the better to gauge her body’s temperature. “Arme kleine Schatz,” she crooned. “Poor darling, shush now.”
Rose’s wails ramped down to sniffles as she tried to process who was talking to her. But her face remained beet red and her eyes seemed glassy. Elle tried to keep her voice level, calling on her old training as an apprentice nurse. “She is very feverish, Evelyn. We should take her to hospital.”
“Hospital?” Evelyn burst out, her voice tight. “What do you mean?”
Rose was sucking in air now, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. In between, she made mewling, helpless, awful noises as if someone was stepping on her. Elle knew she had to keep the mother calm, but get Rose to medical help as fast as they could manage it. “I think that we should drive to hospital right now. I will drive and you hold the poor sweetling.” She kept her voice as neutral as she could. “I am a trained nurse’s assistant. It was my first job, in Germany. This child is very ill. We should go.”
Evelyn seemed to freeze in place, staring at Elle. “All right,” she said, handing over her keys and taking Rose in her arms again. “Oh, my God, she’s…so hot. Should we call nine-one-one?”
“No time. Hurry.”
Evelyn nodded and followed Elle down the metal steps, through the brewery and out of the back door.
* * * *
They were rushed straight through when they arrived, mostly thanks to Elle’s precise description to the check-in staff. Rose was limp in Evelyn’s arms by then, her eyes rolled back in her head, her breathing shallow.
“Oh, my God,” Evelyn whispered, tears rolling down her face. “She’s been fussy all day, but I didn’t think anything of it.”
“It’s all right,” Elle said. “My guess is that it’s some form of strep since it came on so quickly.”
“Strep?” Evelyn repeated. “I didn’t think babies got that.”
“Not many do,” Elle admitted, keeping her palm on Evelyn’s arm to steady her. The doctors and nurses hovered over the baby’s tiny body. At one point, one of the doctors—who looked to be all of eighteen years old—barked at the nurses to “get the mother out of the room.”
“The hell you will,” Evelyn said, peeling away from Elle and heading straight for the approaching phalanx of staff before planting herself near the bed. “I’m staying.”
Elle moved quickly to catch her when she saw that someone was giving baby Rose mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
“God damn it, grab her before she concusses on the fucking floor.”
Doctors, Elle thought with disdain as she and a nurse got Evelyn up onto a nearby gurney. Their pompous asshole-ishness knows no borders.
“Are you family?” the nurse asked as she accompanied Evelyn’s limp form into a different, curtained-off space in the emergency area.
“No,” Elle said, her eyes on the woman’s pale face. “A friend.”
“Well, then do you know how we can reach her husband? The baby’s father?”
“I’m…um…” Elle backed away, hand to her neck, her mind spinning with a distinct lack of options. She heard the thin wail coming from where Rose had been unconscious a few moments before. She took a deep breath. “I know how to find him,” she declared, reaching for her outdated cell phone and hitting re-dial from the brewery’s main number. Glancing at her watch, she prayed that it was the sort of place where the front office didn’t shut down at five on the nose.
“Thank you for calling the Fitzgerald Brewing Company. This is Alice. How can I help you today?”
Evelyn sent up a quick mental thanks, then said, “Alice, my name is Elle. Elisa Nagel. I’m… I am to be the new assistant brewer.”
“Oh, right, yes. Did Evelyn leave with you? I need her to sign—”
“I am very sorry to interrupt you, but I need to know where Mr. Fitzgerald is.”
“He’s…out of town. Why?”
Elle shut her eyes and slumped against the wall. “Is there anyone there who can reach him, immediately?”
“Hang on a minute.” Elle winced at the sound of a phone dropping onto a surface. “Brock! Come here,” she heard Alice saying. There was more shuffling, bustling noises. Then a deep masculine voice said, “Hello? This is Brock Fitzgerald. Austin’s bro—”
“Evelyn and the baby are in the emergency room,” Elle blurted out, trying not to sound as terrified as she was. “You must come now.”
“What? Who is this?”
“It’s Elle, Elisa Nagel. I’m the new brewer. We were finishing my interview and the baby…” Her throat locked up. “Please come now, Mr. Fitzgerald. I will meet you at the emergency room entrance.”
“Wait, how will I know who—?”
“I’m the short one, with the weird hair. Hard to miss. Bring some extra clothes for Evelyn, if she keeps them there, maybe in a locker somewhere? But hurry, please.” She ended the call and pressed her fingers to her lips as a contingent of medical staff rushed past her, wheeling Rose away in a small incubator. The adrenaline rush that had been sustaining her escaped in a giant whoosh. Her legs gave out and she slid to the floor, still clutching her phone in one hand.