"Mr. Reed," she called. Marcus looked up, startled enough to put his phone down on the passenger seat. He got out of the car and straightened his jacket, though there was nothing about his appearance he needed to apologize for. "Ms. Carter."
Is there something wrong with the conference room? Natalie smiled faintly. "No. It has worked perfectly since your observation. I wanted to ask you about the experience listed in your hiring paperwork."
He looked at her for a moment, then at the folder. "You looked up my record?" he asked. "I did," Natalie said. "Your name was in the maintenance report, and I wanted to make sure I understood what you had done before Meridian. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable." Marcus thought about the possibility that a CEO had discovered some problem with his contractor employment, then shook his head.
"I used to repair commercial equipment," he said. "Eleven years. Mostly on service calls. I stopped because I couldn't promise a customer an emergency repair at midnight and promise my daughter I'd be home in the morning. Both promises matter, and I only had one of me." Natalie nodded, as though that explanation answered a question she had been carrying from the executive floor.
"Would you consider doing that work again?" she asked. Marcus stared at her. There was no reason for the CEO to be standing beside an old Honda discussing his future in a parking lot, and the offer sounded too much like the beginning of a misunderstanding. "Is there an opening in maintenance?" he asked.
"Not one I can honestly offer you today," Natalie answered. "We have qualifications to verify, roles to define, and a staffing arrangement that has to be handled properly. I don't intend to wave those requirements away because one night impressed me. But if there's a path, I want to know whether you would consider taking it."
Marcus looked at the lights of the tower. Through one row of windows he could see the cleaning crew working on a floor that would be immaculate by morning, though nobody arriving for meetings would know who had done it. He wanted to say yes immediately, and he wanted to protect himself from the disappointment that might follow. Instead, he asked the question that had governed most of his decisions since Emma was born.
"What would the hours be?" Natalie did not smile as though it were an amusing or small concern. She nodded with an expression of genuine approval. "I was hoping you'd tell me what you need," she said. "If this is going to work, it has to work for your daughter too."