The Living Room by Robert Whitlow

Mr. Phillips, and I saw her briefly when she came in for appointments.”
    Amy groped around in her mind for the right words to put an end to Jeff’s persistent efforts to turn her into a part-time domestic.
    “Would you consider helping her as a way to earn extra money to get us through Christmas?” he asked. “It would be like a trial work period for both of you. If it didn’t work out, then you could quit. I could present it to her the same way. I’d hate to see a good opportunity wither away like flowers that have been cut.”
    Poised to deliver an emphatic retort that would forever squelch the subject of working for Ms. Burris, Amy abruptly shut her mouth instead.
    “Will you at least talk to her?” Jeff finished.
    Amy tried to open her mouth to reply, but her heart wouldn’t let her.
    “What did you say?” she asked, stalling for time.
    “Which part?”
    “The last.”
    “That it won’t take a lot of your time and would be a trial work period. If Ms. Burris was a poor woman who couldn’t pay you, I bet you’d consider helping her because you’re a Christian. Just because she can pay doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.”
    “No, about dead flowers.”
    “Uh, the chance for a job won’t last long, just like grass or flowers that have been cut and have to be thrown out in a few days. It’s just a figure of speech. What do you call it?”
    “A simile.”
    Tension had Amy’s insides tied up in knots. She knew there was only one way to relieve the pressure.
    “You win. Tell Ms. Burris I’ll come over and talk to her.”
    “Great.” Jeff brightened up. “When would be a good time?”
    “Whatever suits her. Are you satisfied now?”
    “I’m only asking you to consider it for a month or so. I wasn’t sure I should even bring it up, but I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and—”
    “Go,” Amy said with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”
    As soon as Jeff was out of the house, Amy plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. The easing of tension in her stomach was temporary. The prospect of having to ring the doorbell at Ms. Burris’s house and talk to her about cleaning her house brought it back.
    After taking a shower and getting dressed, she called Natalie and told her what happened.
    “Did he quote the verses?”
    “No, but he came close enough that it got my attention. Ever since we found out that the cost of Megan’s dance lessons is going up, Jeff has wanted me to get a part-time job cleaning houses.”
    “Dance lessons can’t be that expensive.”
    “They’re not,” Amy admitted, “but there are much bigger bills coming due that Jeff and I can’t cover in our budget. We’re going to be in a tight squeeze beginning in January, and my income from writing isn’t going to cover the gap.”
    “I’m sorry. It cuts down the excitement of being a writer, doesn’t it?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I have an idea,” Natalie said. “Why don’t I hire you to clean my house? And I bet Sophie Melton and Kristen Land would use you, too.”
    Amy felt her face flush.
    “Cleaning houses for you and your friends would be tougher on me than working for a stranger like Ms. Burris.”
    “It’s just an idea. I wasn’t trying to put you down.”
    “You’re sweet to offer, but something inside tells me I have to see if Ms. Burris will let me work for her. If that doesn’t pan out, I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
    “Luke did a photo shoot for Ms. Burris’s family at her house last year. He said it’s a huge place for one woman to take care of.”
    “I may be the answer to that need.”
    Amy’s cell phone beeped. It was Jeff.
    “Gotta go,” she said. “That’s Jeff calling.”
    Mustering as much resolve as she could, Amy accepted the call.
    “I just left the Burris house,” Jeff said. “Ms. Burris is willing to meet you at two thirty this afternoon. That should give you time to talk to her and still be home when Ian gets off the bus.”
    “Okay. Did you