I actually have to shake myself out of the kind of “spell” I can feel falling over me from her. It’s a kind of slowness or fuzziness around and through me.
“No, no, ma’am. It’s not been a difficult morning.”
“You look a little out of breath,” she says, and then I really do feel that way — squeezed of oxygen. Her eyes have gotten even more bluish gray, but bright, almost silver. “And a little out of sorts, young man.” She says this, but it’s with a little humor, not scolding.
Again, I have to work to snap myself out of whatever haze she’s putting on me. I wouldn’t say that I’m feeling an attraction to her. It’s more like she’s compelling me in some way or drawing me to her.
“Well, this is… this interview is something that I…”
“Don’t want to be late for?” Joan Vanacore smiles at me, and the smile shines like California gold. “I understand perfectly, young man. I felt much the same way during my first interview in a law firm years and years ago.”
She pauses.
“But there’s no reason to be nervous. Despite whatever rumors you may or may not have heard about me, I’m quite gentle. A bit picky, but I only want to make sure I find a young person with enough drive and ambition to match my own.”
She pauses, studying me. She’s savoring whatever she’s looking at in me.
“Shall we see if that’s you, my boy?”
I nod, not sure how I’m feeling now. I’m nervous for sure, but now it’s not just for what I’m going to say or what questions they’re going to ask. It’s from the way Vanacore has me in her sights. The way she seems to linger on every part of me that she can see above the table, and in a way, I’ve never been looked at before — with something like desire.
“We can get started any time if you’re ready, Tommy,” says Charlotte, and at that moment, I’m feeling grateful for her interruption.
I find refuge in Charlotte’s eyes. While I would say that I find Ms. Vanacore good-looking, it’s not like I’m into her. It’s just that I’m unnerved by her aura and by the effect her eyes have on me. The way they seem to wrap me up and bind me in a way I’m not entirely sure I like or can resist.
“I’m ready if you’re ready,” I say, putting my folder down on the table.
Embarrassingly, it has sweat on it from my hands and fingers, but I quickly open it up, hoping no one there at the table notices.
“I’ve got some resumes and uh —” I say, quickly rummaging through the folder and picking out pieces of paper that are, thank God, organized better than the way I had them originally, “— letters of recommendation.”
I put the resume and copies of the letters of recommendation before all three of them.
“I’ve got one for each of you if you’re interested.”
Vanacore immediately takes an interest in what I’ve given her. She picks up the pieces of paper I’ve left in front of her and begins to peruse them. As she does so, she pushes up her fancy silver-rimmed glasses. For being a southern woman, she’s got a rather urban style.
“You’ve been quite busy since college, Mr. Radner,” she says, and with each word, I feel like I’m a barrel being filled with finely aged liquor.
“You’ve had some pretty good internships and made a memorable impact on all of your coworkers and internship leaders,” she adds, perusing the letters of recommendation. “Driven. Attentive to detail and to client needs. It says you have an uncanny knack for understanding how the law moves and flows. The intricacy and flexibility of it.”
She hums pleasantly as if she’s tasting something gourmet.
“‘Treats the law as a living, breathing creature. Something that can work miracles and magic in the lives of the people, if used correctly,’” she says, reading verbatim from one of the recommendations.
She looks over at me from the letter she brings down.
“Those are some very unique and intriguing statements about you, Mr. Radner. So far, I like what I see. I like what I’ve read.”
She sets down the papers, petting them with her delicate, ringed hand like a pet. “Far and above some of the other applicants I’ve met with over the past few weeks.”
She turns to Charlotte, who’s also been perusing the papers I gave her, but she’s doing so with much more professionalism and efficiency.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Anderson?”
Charlotte laughs nervously.
“Vanacore,” she says, “I keep telling you that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Oh, right, right,” she says, smiling slightly. “You and Calvin get along so well, I keep forgetting the two of you aren’t married to each other yet.”
“Anyway,” says Charlotte, stressing that word in her mouth. “I agree with Ms. Vanacore here. You are much more accomplished and attentive than most of the people we’ve seen over the last few weeks.”