Chapter 12
JOB PROPOSITION
Milo
The sound of the vacuum roared back to life for the second time that morning, and Milo snorted as he finished buttoning up his white dress shirt. Ever since Eliana’s impromptu burn pit, Bea had been in a state of sheer panic over the idea of bugs in their house.
“How would they even get over here? It’s not like you spend the night with Eliana,” Milo bluntly asked that first evening, his eyes watchful as she trashed her third can of Lysol and dragged the shampoo vac to the edge of the couch.
“Of course not,” Bea snapped, ripping the covers off their throw pillows. “But I’ve been in their house and sat on their couch. And besides, there’s like ten feet between our houses, I’m sure bugs can cross ten feet,” she finished on a wail.
Milo marveled at how simple the omission was for her. Even mid-panic attack, the lie was so easy . . . so quick off the tongue. It made Milo wonder how often she’d lied in the past, and how many times he’d taken her at her word to his own detriment.
Their relationship had been a struggle from the very start, a constant, exhausting, upward battle.
It burned like acid in his chest to know he’d cared so deeply for someone who did not feel the same.
To know that he’d been working so hard to get through their issues while she’d been out, making a fool of him.
He desperately wanted to be where Eliana was—ready to accept and move on—but he simply wasn’t.
So he leaned into the anger, letting it mask his expression as he finished getting ready.
He passed through the bedroom, fighting not to roll his eyes at the sight of Bea steam cleaning their mattress for the second time, and headed to work without a backward glance.
Milo specialized in turning around failing businesses, and one of his current clients was a newer, moderate-sized manufacturer with margins so slim that they could barely manage to cover their overhead, much less turn a profit.
He’d been conducting interviews and shadowing processes for two weeks, and though it seemed improbable at first, he was now convinced that the issue wasn’t the supplier costs or software inefficiencies as the COO believed, but rather a complete disregard for common-day lean methodologies.
After explaining his findings to the executive board and handing out copies of The Goal by Eliyahu M.
Goldratt, Milo left the office, shaking his head at the simplicity of the issue and wondering how these leaders had ever grown a company to this point without exploring such fundamental concepts as JIT manufacturing and constraint management.
Removing the exorbitant inventory costs alone would solve half their problems.
He was driving to his next meeting when his phone rang.
As soon as he answered, his most problematic client launched right into the middle of another unnecessary crisis regarding their outdated systems. Milo was no expert when it came to specialized HR incentive functions, but even he knew that manually calculating a profit-sharing bonus for thousands of associates in Excel was a recipe for disaster.
He’d been leading the initiative to outsource the payment processing while the company had better systems installed, but every little change in process devolved into a dumpster fire of miscommunication.
Being forced into a dozen unplanned calls over minute issues every week, calls that could’ve easily been emails, made Milo regret ever having taken the case.
Parking the car, he advised them to talk to the consultants directly about their concerns and ended the call, late for the only work meeting he was actually interested in having that day—a nonprofit dog shelter looking to expand their operations.
He flipped through his emails, trying to triage the most urgent, as he walked down the street to meet his newest client, a tiny, soft-spoken woman named Lily, outside the facility.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and extended his hand to shake hers before following her around the building and listening as she told him about her dreams for the place.
It was inspiring, seeing her passion for the project, watching as she slowly came out of her shell, speaking with more enthusiasm as he asked targeted questions.
He realized with a start that she reminded him a lot of Eliana—a gentle exterior guarding a fiery soul.
An idea sparked, and as Milo followed Lily back to her office, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Eliana, inviting her to lunch.
Then he took the seat Lily indicated, and his mind returned to work as they settled into the finances of her expansion project.
An hour later, he shook her hand, deeply regretful that the results of his analysis weren’t more promising.
She agreed to call him back if circumstances changed, her smile warm though the disappointment rang clear in her eyes.
He left the facility feeling down, still working to brainstorm creative ways to fund the new addition while steadily ignoring the nonstop pings brightening his phone.
That is, until he was sitting at a table in the diner he’d picked, and Eliana walked in, breaking through his train of thought with the efficiency of ice water to the face.
Bea was a breathtaking woman, and she knew it.
She adored the attention her looks received, reveled in the knowledge that women watched her with jealousy and men with desire.
But Milo had loved her despite those things.
He’d loved her back when her overbite was so severe she couldn’t close her mouth properly, or when she’d put toothpaste on her pimples because her parents couldn’t afford pimple patches.
He’d met her before she’d become a bombshell, and he’d fallen in love with her confidence and her wild heart.
He’d pushed aside his concerns as they’d grown, pushed aside the conceit and the greed he’d noticed.
Thinking that deep down, beneath the surface, she was still the same crazy kid he’d known in school, who’d captivated him heart and soul .
. . but looking back, he realized he’d not caught sight of that girl in years.
Eliana, however, had a quiet presence about her—usually choosing to simply observe her surroundings rather than participate.
He’d often noticed it when they’d all gotten together for a dinner or a summer BBQ, but Jesse was her husband, and Bea was her friend .
. . he’d been certain that if she wanted to participate, those two would’ve known.
And yet, seeing her easy smile, and having witnessed firsthand the strength of her spirit, Milo wondered just how much of her quiet disposition was due to a sense of discomfort at Bea’s oppressive personality and Jesse’s disregard.
She tucked her hair behind one ear, and he tracked the movement.
The strands were board-straight and moved like silk, and he idly wondered if it would be as soft as it looked.
Bea’s hair was wild and bushy when not slathered in a billion chemicals—but Eliana’s was so . . . controlled. Just like her.
He cocked his head, considering just how controlled she truly was—how she was handling everything these past few weeks.
She mentioned being catatonic at one point .
. . had she meant that? It was a startling revelation to realize that the woman he’d lived beside for a decade and had shared countless meals with, the mother of the kids he helped babysit dozens of times, was little more than a stranger.
He’d never considered the matter worth deeper thought, but now he wondered why he’d never even bothered to have a single conversation with her.
Asking a lot of questions or talking on their own would’ve seemed disrespectful to their spouses.
The thought was laughable now, knowing how Jesse and Bea carried on in their absence, but he still scrutinized his own motives with a fresh perspective.
Had he truly only avoided Eliana out of a sense of husbandly duty, or had he subconsciously clocked his own awareness and thrown up boundaries?
He’d been married, so regardless of whether or not he was happy in that marriage—why would he have entertained such dangerous thoughts?
However, with no such obligations to Bea clouding his vision any longer, Milo stood immediately to pull out Eliana’s chair. Suddenly anxious to know more. Objectively curious to see where his mind took him, although he knew he needed to tread carefully—and respectfully.
“So Eliana . . . I’ve got a job proposition for you,” he said, diving right into the true heart of the matter.
She smiled at the words, but it faded as she eyed his suit. “I– I appreciate it, Milo, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea. I’m not exactly a, uh, businesswoman?”
“You don’t even know what the job is,” Milo said, working hard to hide a laugh.
“That’s fair.” She nodded, looking for all the world like she was humoring him. “What is the job?”
“A personal assistant role. For me,” he clarified.
“No business experience needed. I just need someone to manage my emails, take notes, and schedule my meetings . . . just generally take care of the more administrative-type tasks that I don’t have time for in my workday, and open me up to take on more clients.
I was having a hard time finding a good candidate for the role because everyone who applied was overqualified and asking for more than I could justify.
I’m established, but I’m no executive.” He eyed her curious expression, her cautious eyes and pursed lips as she considered his words.
“But you seem very organized, obviously composed, and you’re looking for a job.
I’m sure the rate I could offer would be better than the average entry-level position on the market. ”
Eliana cocked her head to the side, “What could you offer?”
He stated a number, and her jaw dropped. “I’d also cover your personal insurance when you come off Jesse’s plan.”
It was clearly more than she’d been expecting.
He’d considered offering even more, but going above the market average for a PA seemed suspicious, and he’d gathered enough from her heat-of-the-moment speech to know she’d already taken one too many hits to her pride to accept anything that felt like charity.
“Wh– what would the hours look like?” she asked.
“I work Tuesday through Friday, and I typically start my day early, but you could come meet me after you drop the girls off at school. Or I could pick you up between sites. But you could also do most of the work from home, honestly. I’d just record my meetings when needed, and you could transcribe them later. ”
“So it’s part-time?”
“No, I would pay it as a full-time salaried role.” He offered a reassuring smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to work more than me, and I only put in around thirty, maybe thirty-five, hours a week.”
Eliana’s eyes were growing more and more wary with each word he said, until he stopped and she snapped, “You want me to work thirty hours and pay me for forty? Are you fucking with me? If I didn’t know you personally, I’d call you a scammer.”
Milo snorted, enjoying the spark of fire—then quickly smoothed a hand down his mouth, smothering the laughter. “I swear it’s real. I can have my lawyer draft up an official offer if you’d like.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Several reasons,” Milo said, opting for honesty in the face of her cool suspicion.
“I do truly need the help and have been actively recruiting, and I’m not lying when I say the responses I’ve gotten so far haven’t been good fits.
I’m also well aware that you need a job, and I have the ability to provide you with one.
The rate is fair in comparison to the market average—and being self-employed, I’m uniquely able to offer you certain lifestyle benefits you wouldn’t find elsewhere.
And lastly, we have a bit of a situation, if you will, going on with our spouses—and you seem to have a particularly keen ability to sniff out their bullshit.
We need proof, and if you are breaking your back working fifty hours a week at minimum wage, we won’t get anywhere.
But if you’re working for me, we could consider any, uh .
. . investigative activities part of your day-to-day duties.
And,” he shrugged, settling back in his seat, “it gives us an easy cover to discuss the situation freely.”
Eliana slumped back, her eyes slightly unfocused as she thought it through. “This is . . . insane. I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you.” Her eyes focused back on Milo, astounded. “I don’t even know what you do.”
He nodded. “Consulting. Financial, operational, and logistical efficiencies. I’ve taken clients in most industries, but I particularly enjoy working with nonprofits.
Most of it is quite boring, though. Lots of meetings and paperwork.
Though you’d learn a lot about business operations.
And if you visit sites with me, it’ll be good networking for when you’re ready to move on to a better job. ”
Eliana chewed her lip, drawing Milo’s gaze to her mouth, then she straightened, and his eyes snapped back up.
“Alright. There’s no way I’m finding a better offer right now. But if it’s not working out, if I suck, you have to tell me. Don’t let me make your life harder, please.”
As much as he wanted to argue, Milo nodded. “Agreed.”
“Now I just have to figure out how to tell Jesse about this,” Eliana mused. “Though, I wonder how long it would take him to notice if I simply didn’t.”
Empathy flared on her behalf, knowing Bea only cared about his career to the extent of how much she received from his check, but he took a page from Eliana’s book and shoved the emotion down, covering it with an evil smirk.
“Well . . . if you’re open to suggestions . . .” Milo hedged, “I’ve got an idea.”