It was likely due to visiting the King of Beasts before she'd seen any of Earth's other vacation homes, but to Inshabel it seemed small, almost too ordinary. The Hotel in Vegas had been a lit tower filled to the brim with excitement, fun, flash and goodwill. To Inshabel, the King of Beasts had from the first given her a feeling of movement, of activity, as though the seams of the building were bursting with the order of warriors it housed and protected.
The Mariott was nice, of course, but it was a cut and dried pleasantness. A banality. Everyone currently moving to and fro across the entranceway had places to go, people to see. As was her way, few of them noticed the quiet, tired-looking woman who shuffled out of a Women's restroom in her very finest dress, bonnet, and shawl. The threads were barely bare, and there were no obvious holes or patches in her outfit; the abundance of black was broken by white lacing and gold filigree, and the wedges she'd borrowed from Wren clicked unseen under her hemline across the tile towards the front desk.
She'd have looked very sinister, if not for her kind eyes and hesitant, unsure smile. The picnic basket she had slung under her arm also broke up her storm cloud ensemble. Although she didn't mind her usual shabbiness, she had to put her best foot forward.
"Good afternoon, Miss." She said to the clerk, before taking out a piece of paper from the top of the basket. "Would you be so kind as-"
The woman held up a finger, her eyes far away; As she continued her phone call, Inshabel demurred, lowering her eyes and crossing her hands- holding her basket- at her waist. The other woman wrote something down before hanging up, looking back at Inshabel with the mask people who worked in customer service could summon in an instant.
"Can I help you?"
"I certainly hope so, Miss. I was asked to be present for an appointment? I have an interview scheduled in room 507." She'd memorized the number. "Would you be so kind as to call ahead and inform them I've arrived?"
"Sure thing." Said the clerk, picking her phone back up. The mask slipped for a moment, and Inshabel saw weariness around her eyes. As she confirmed that the woman wearing Evil Grandmother clothing was expected, Inshabel reached into her basket and gently placed something small and wrapped in wax paper the color of milk and coffee onto her desk.
"Alright, they're expecting you, Miss Grey. Go on up- what's this?"
"A present. Thank you very much for your help- I do hope the rest of your day will be pleasant." Inshabel said, smiling and dipping to the woman before making her way to the stairwell. Elevators made her nervous. She missed the desk worker opening up her package and looking down at the homemade cookie in faint surprise.
When she finally reached the conference room, Inshabel adjusted her bonnet and gripped the basket tighter to keep her hands from rattling. She couldn't believe how nervous she was; for the first time in a long while, she was going to be judged on her own merits for something new, not critiqued on something she'd done or created. It was a very different feeling to know that she herself was on trial, not her efforts or her output. Taking a quiet breath, she knocked politely on the door before opening it and looking in.
Men and women looked up; they were in suits or power-outfits, put together, tailored and polished. Inshabel felt like a hen before parrots before one of them checked his clipboard and adjusted his glasses.
"Mrs. Grey?"
"Miss, sir, but yes. Good afternoon. Thank you." She said, closing the door behind her before taking the offered chair. The table was round, and the curtains were drawn; Inshabel was glad she'd not be tempted to search the view for an escape route. She covered her wood hands with her sleeves and smiled gently around her. The only thing that she had no answers for was a small camera-being sitting in the corner and watching them for... Whatever reason. She smiled at it too.
They introduced themselves, one by one; the Board of directors for Kuwahawi, the head of their legal team, the Corporation's high and mighty. She curtsied and clasped hands with them all, meeting their eyes and making sure they marked her.
"Before we get started- what's in the basket?"
Inshabel had spent days baking; though it might not have been relevant or important for the job she was aiming for, it still always helped to fudge the odds just a smidge.
"Oh, a little baking- it's one of my very favorite hobbies. I whipped up a batch of chocolate cookies, crumbling them and mixing them with graham cracker cake batter and marshmallow fluff. Then, I used the mixture to make muffins, before powering them with brown sugar... I call them S'muffins. S'more, ehem, muffins, you see." She said, sending her basket around the table. She felt a little foolish for having made twenty-four when there were eight people total in the room.
They asked her questions, then; she folded her hands and kept serenity in her eyes.
"So, tell us a little about yourself. Are you from Earth?" Asked Richmond, the chief financial officer.
"No, sir. I come from a planet called Solis, in the Sonon system. More specifically, I hail from Old Argo, a city state. Have any of you been to Boston? The two are similar in experience."
"Oh, was Old Argo a harbor?"
"A part of it was, yes- The city itself filled it's borders, but the west bordered Ocean and the north Mountains. It was very much a port of safe harbor whether your feet were dry or wet, really. It was a dreary sort of place, but not without it's charms and cheer. There was gray all over... The sky, the water, the buildings. Sometimes I swore even the people. Well-" She made an acknowledging sort of gesture at her joke. "But it was home, and it was quaint. I was raised by my grandmother, in a stone shack upon a hill. My parents were fisherfolk, but they were taken too soon, by the sea in my infancy."
"In any case-" She proceeded hurriedly, to fill the beat of silence."-with a new mouth to feed, My grandmother returned to her housekeeping duties, where she also saw to my own upbringing. I learned all manner of things, and my first job was at the age of fourteen." Inshabel took another piece of paper out of her basket; This was an old, brittle piece, the words scored in by quill and affirming that she'd been hired by the Lazing Selkie tavern years ago.
"I'd rather thought you all would appreciate proof of my resume's claims, rather than only having my word to stock by."
"Speaking of that- your resume mentioned you'd run estates before?" Clines asked, adjusting her glasses.
"Yes, Miss. My first was the Bluebrook youth scholam, where I worked first as an administrator before becoming Headmistress. At the start, perhaps thirty children attended. Teachers were routinely hired for showing up, educational standards were at a minimum, and the building itself was dilapidated. At one point we kept a bathroom constantly locked, due to a family of weasels denning inside. Following a period of four years, I renovated the grounds, hired a competent staff, increased attendance to over a hundred children, and made sure they received a proper education."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Oh, my, yes. That experience remains one of my greatest joys." Inshabel said cheerfully. She still everything the kids had ever made her- pictures, and painted rocks, and bracelets beaded with pasta- in a drawer in her study. "Following that, I left Solis to restore and maintain the Edgaborough estates...."
It continued in this fashion, she recounting her work experience- not all of it, only the most relevant and impressive examples- before she hit the first hurdle. Richmond peered at her work papers before saying "There seem to be a gap in your employment history, about... three years, between Edgaborough and your stewarding the Lyle mansion."
"Ah. Yes, circumstances beyond my control forced my retreat to a safer part of the country. Sonon was not like Solis; Wars sprang up like brushfires, and Edgaborough was burnt to the ground by a border patrol. I and a juniour housekeeper were able to escape, but I do not believe anyone else was as fortunate..."
It was a lie, but the truth wasn't for them. How could she tell these buttoned-down people that Old Man Edgaborough had been insane? That he had vanished one day into the woods, raving about eyes and teeth and fingers in the dark? If only he'd been the only one. The nearby village had hidden more than skeletons in the closet. Men in robes had murdered her staff in the dark of a new moon, and attempted to open a gateway somewhere horrible by sacrificing that same juniour housekeeper...
Inshabel had rescue her and torched the cultists inside the house; The last time she'd seen her, the young maid had been sitting at her kitchen table for breakfast. Ino loved waffles, now, after having them in Vegas.
And finally...
"So- We have many candidates for this position, Miss Grey. Some of them, I won't lie to you, have more of the traditional qualities we're looking for. Why should we hire you?"
Inshabel folded her hands in front of her and gathered her resolve.
"To put it simply, because I will not let you down. I hold myself to exacting standards, and have never shied away from hard work. I am capable, resourceful, trustworthy, and I excel at taking care to ensure everyone under my charge is indomitably satisfied. I know when to delegate, and when to take the reigns; When to be hard, and when to be flexible. I care very much for the Kobbers, and very much for whatever place they call home. I would very, very much like to be an active part of that. My experience and skills may not be traditional, but I promise, they will prove more than satisfactory."
There were some more questions, but now Inshabel had relaxed; She'd done the best she could. Richmond walked her to the hotel lobby, where they shook hands for the final time.
"We have a few more candidates to interview, but you'll be hearing from us in a few days."
"Thank you very much for having me, sir. I look forward to it." She said, dipping and smiling at his back as he walked away. Before she left back through the bathroom door, she put the rest of her cookies on the front desk.
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