She frowned slightly as she surveyed the room. “You’ll want some kind of easily maintained system, I would imagine.”
“If there is such a thing. Think you can do it?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to try. I’ll have a better idea of what you need after I go through all this.”
Roman relaxed. She was frank and honest. He liked that. He had the feeling this girl would know exactly what to do and how to get it done quickly. The sooner, the better. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He finished his coffee. “You might last longer than all the rest.” He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and headed down the hall.
She came out of the room. “Mr. Velasco, we need to talk about a few essentials.”
He stopped, hoping nothing was about to spoil his sense of relief. “Essentials?”
“A desk and office chair, for starters. Filing cabinets, a phone, and all the other supplies for any normal office.”
He had said detail-oriented. “I’m an artist, in case you weren’t told. I don’t do normal. And that’s a lot of stuff you’re asking for on your first day on the job.”
“I can’t sit on a folding chair eight hours a day, five days a week, and I’ll need something more than a card table to work on. There’s barely open space on the floor.” She peered back into the room. “Is there a phone in there somewhere?”
“Yes. And a computer, unless the last temp girl walked off with it.”
“I’ll find them.”
“Do you really need all that?”
“Yes, if you want your stuff filed properly, not jammed helter-skelter into cardboard boxes or piled up like a beaver dam.”
Things weren’t looking as good as they had moments before. “There are contracts, sample sketches, letters of inquiry, the stuff of my business.” If Roman didn’t know the staffing manager would hang up on him, he’d tell Grace Moore where she could shove her list of essentials. Unfortunately, he knew what Mrs. Sandoval would do. He’d be right back to square one in this endless hunt for an assistant who was willing and able to do the job. Talia Reisner had planted the idea of hiring someone to take care of what she called “the mundane minutiae of life” so he could concentrate on his art.
Grace Moore stood silent, not offering an apology. Did he have the right to expect one?
“Get whatever you need.”
“Where do you buy your office supplies?”
“I don’t.” He lifted the mug and realized he’d already downed the coffee. “Find the computer and figure it out.” He needed another cup of coffee before he did anything else.
“And you’ll be . . . ?”
“In my studio!”
“Which is where?”
“Down the other hall, up the stairs on the right.” He paused and looked back at her. “Take a self-guided tour of the house and get your bearings.” He left her standing in the hall. Grabbing the thermal pot from the coffeemaker, he headed for his studio.
Roman didn’t see his personal assistant for two hours. She tapped lightly at the doorframe and waited for permission to enter. She’d found the laptop. “I have the list and prices. If you have a credit card, I can place the order and have everything delivered by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Let’s get it done.” Tossing his pencil down, he dug in his back pocket and found it empty. He muttered a four-letter word. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” His wallet wasn’t in or on the armoire or his bedside table. Angry now, he fished through his dirty laundry, checking pockets until he remembered he’d left it in the glove compartment of his car last night. Cursing loudly, he went to get it.
Grace Moore stood exactly where he’d left her. She held out the laptop rather than taking the credit card he offered. “If you approve of everything I’ve listed, you can put in your credit card information.”
“You do it!”
She flinched and let out a soft breath. “It’s your financial information.”
“Which you’re going to know if you do your job.” He took the laptop from her. Looking at the order total, he swore again. She headed for the door. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t work for you.” She sounded apologetic, but uncompromising.
“Wait a minute!” He dumped the laptop on his drafting table and went after her.
She hurried down the stairs.