Generation 02, Chapter 05: Wait... What?

NOTE

Okay, so I know I said I was on hiatus, and I sort of am.  But I already had the next two chapters ready so I thought I might as well post those.

Also, for those who aren't on Facebook, I've decided to do a mini legacy as a continuation of this legacy. Of course, I won't really write much for the mini legacy and there won't be a strict plot line.  It'll be more casual than this one.  So when I start posting pictures for that, I might post them to this blog, or you guys can check it out on my Facebook.  ^_^

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"Hi, my name is Myrtle Dhaval, but you can call me Mrs. Dhaval," she says, ushering me to the left of her grandeur home.  I notice that she quickly disposes of her cigarette.  A large man comes down the stairs and greets me also.

"I'm Fir Dhaval," he chuckles.

"Make yourself comfortable," Mrs. Dhaval commands pleasantly as she gestures to the living room.

I sit down and feel fatigue wash over me.  "Are you okay, dear  You don't look so good."

"I have a small headache, do you have any aspirin?"

"Yes, of course!  Fir, could you go get the poor girl an aspirin?"

"So, this room will need to be dusted, vacuumed, and wiped down on a daily basis."  Mrs. Dhaval rattles on about her cleaning.  I'm rather confused as to why she's so obsessed about her house but I don't question it.  The aspirin that Mr. Dhaval hands me is calming me down and I'm finally able to think a bit clearly.

"I think I'm feeling a bit better now.  Thank you so much for the aspirin.  I'm not usually like this."

"Oh, no problem!  We're always happy to help our future help."

Future help?

"Now, are you ready to move onto the kitchen?  I'd like to point out some spots in there that I'd like you to know about."

"Sure...," I say warily.

As we go to the kitchen, she points out more cleaning spots.  She even shows me how she stacks her dishwasher and after that's over, she drags me into the dining room, the bathrooms, and the upstairs rooms.  I don't know what is going on in this woman's head but if she's not drunk, then I'm out of ideas as to why is causing her strange behavior.  Perhaps she has a mental disability or a fetish.  Although she seems fine to me....

Once we get to the entry way again, I feel relief knowing that the "tour" is over.

"So, Calla, you came from..." Mrs. Dhaval prompts.

"From Bridgeport.  Though I was raised in Sunset Valley."

"Ah!  Very nice.  And did you have a job in Brideport?"

I hesitate to answer.  "I... did."

"And what kinds of hours did you work?"

"Oh all kinds of hours.  Everyday and sometimes all through the night and other time very early into the morning."

"You worked into the night?"  The Dhavals say in astonishment.

"Yes, me and the other employees.  It was a very large company."

"Well, just to assure you, we're much more relaxed."

"Oh, uh... good," I reply, not quite knowing what she's referring to.

"Well, Calla, after the interview, I think you'll get the job.  Although, there was another girl who was just as fine as you.  It will be a difficult choice for us."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your job, as a housekeeper," Mrs. Dhaval says.  "It'll comprise of cleaning, laundry, and cooking.  Not to mention, full room and board, free weekends, and four weeks of vacation.  We have yet to decide on a decent salary."  Mrs. Dhaval directs her eyes towards her husband.  "But we'll let you know."

"What salary did we decide on?" Mr. Dhaval asks.

Mrs. Dhaval turns a rosy pink and, embarrassed, she drags her husband out of the room.  "Excuse us a moment, Calla."

They must think that I can't hear them, but unfortunately I can.  They come back a few minutes later after quite a lot of yelling and arguing.

"Sorry about that, now, when would you like to start?"  Mrs. Dhaval asks, her eyes pleasant.

I know I should say no but I really have no place to go.

"Would tonight work?"  Where the hell did that come from?

"Of course.  Now, we’ve heard from quite a lot of other young women…," she blabbers.

Does she seriously have the nerve to say I might not get the job?

I've never failed an interview in my life and I’m not about to start now.

"Now, you know how to iron and work a washing machine, correct?"  Mrs. Dhaval begins.

"Of course," I nod.

"And where did you train?"

"I trained at the very best school in Sunset Valley.  The very famous cooking school…," I continue to lie.  

We’re sitting in the dining room and Mrs. Dhaval is firing off questions one by one.  I answer them as confidently as I can. 

"What kinds of meals would you prepare, let’s say… for dinner?"

I rack my brain for gourmet meals.  Luckily, I eat out all the time so I know a lot of the dishes.  Plus, mom always cooked amazing food.

"Well, I can make a stuffed turkey  and omelettes.  Uh, for dessert, I can bake a baked angel food cake and the best truffle torte you've ever tasted."

The Dhavals look impressed.

"And for breakfast?"  Mrs. Dhaval asks eagerly.

"I make a great Eggs Machiavellian."  At least, dad does.

"That's great.  Now, can you demonstrate how you would answer the phone while we're out?"

I walk over to the nearest phone.

"Hello, this is the Dhaval residence, how may I help you?"

"Calla, you've got the job," Mr. Dhaval says proudly.