A Thousand Moments

by RighterB

Modern AU in which Mary is a grad student in Chicago and Matthew is a hedge fund investor/ part-time lawyer/ multi-millionaire who is in need of a nanny to care for his 5 year old daughter. Romance and Angst ensue in this multi-chapter story. Long time reader, first time author.

4. Chapter 4

Matthew knew that it would be hell to have someone that beautiful working for him. Really, he should have sent her away the moment he laid eyes on her. He should have given her a polite, but completely fabricated, excuse for why he would no longer be requiring a nanny, and shown her the door as soon as he had locked eyes with her. That would have been the best thing to do—eliminate the distraction and possible conflict of interest immediately. That would have been the wise thing to do, but even now, hindsight in clear view, Matthew knew that he still would not have dismissed her.

Even now, completely alone in his office, he still felt immensely embarrassed. His cheeks burned red and he dropped his head to the floor in shame. He had acted like a prize idiot. He had gaped, quite boldly and unashamedly, at a possible employee. Even his own actions had surprised him. He was always so cool, so composed, but those wonderful business qualities that had enabled him attain millions of dollars, left his body when he saw her dark eyes set against her porcelain skin. He was left speechless and dumbstruck by her presence and he was certain that he could look into her eyes indefinitely. Her gaze felt white hot against his skin, burning him until there was nothing left of his former self. Who knows how many times Carson had to repeat himself on the phone before Matthew finally responded in the affirmative. Carson accepted the soft 'Yes' that left Matthew's trembling lips, but Matthew knew that his hypnotized mind had meant it to be an immediate acceptance of her. She was real and beautiful and a much needed shot of Novocain for his ever-aching soul.

Of course once he forced himself to break the silent communication with her, where nothing was said and everything was said, Matthew realized how foolishly he was behaving. Now, safe in the seclusion of his office, he grasped how he needed to regain control of himself and the situation. The woman was here to be an employee and not to be gawked at. He felt the red in his cheeks turn from one of embarrassment to a blush of shame. He hoped that he hadn't frightened her. She came with glowing recommendations from both the nanny agency and from her former employers and her personal resume bolstered an immense list of special skills and accomplishments that even Matthew was impressed with. He did not want to lose such a promising candidate. His research had shown Mary Crawley to be the best possible applicant available, at least on paper, and he wanted the best there was for his daughter.

His daughter…Matthew tasted a choking bitterness at the back of his throat and went into his well rehearsed mental berating of himself. His daughter was a shell of her former self and Matthew knew that he was the chief architect of her demise. He hated himself. He hated himself for the way his daughter never smiled or laughed. He hated himself for how he didn't know her and for how she didn't know him. He hated his own cowardice and pride. He hated his own weakness, his own aversion, his own vacancy, and his own selfishness. He hated how she would never have the privilege of knowing her mother and he hated how she could never know how he had attributed to her untimely death.

His own guilt rocked him to the core and a dry heave, only one of thousands to leave his body over the past couple years, violently shook his frame and left him doubled over, clutching the polished wood of his desk. He had never told anyone, except for the surgeon who had operated on Lavina and his own psychiatrist, the full story of her death. Whatever they had said, Matthew knew that he was responsible for her passing and the guilt of it weighed heavily upon him. It was his life's chains and he would wear them daily knowing that they were just. At first he could hardly stand being close to his daughter or feeling the smallest amount of happiness. Every time he looked at her, he could only see a girl ridded of her mother because of his own overconfidence and pride. His guilt was a terminal disease and it infected everything that he touched. Therefore, he justified his aversion to his daughter to himself by believing that it was the better choice of only two options—either she would hate him for enabling her mother's early death, or she would hate him for his distance. He could cope with the second option; he couldn't live with the first. He was a cursed man who harbored no bitterness to anyone except towards himself. He knew that he had forged his curses alone and Matthew accepted that they would slowly pull him down to the Hell he deserved.

Still, he had never meant for Quinn to collapse in on herself in the same way that he had. He had seen it happen slowly over the years. First it was the tantrums. Huge emotional blowouts where Quinn would be crying and screaming for no apparent reason. Then she stopped engaging actively with others. She no longer wanted to play with others, opting to spend more time in seclusion just as he had. Her lightheartedness and natural born jovialness left her around her fourth birthday, and, shortly after that, her imagination waned, and her laughter quickly followed. The last thing to go was her smile, and Matthew remained grateful that she had it for as long as she did. He remembers the last time he had seen it. It was about eight weeks ago, just before his mother had passed. The two were playing Candy Land one afternoon, and Matthew had observed them unseen from a distance. He guessed Quinn had won because his mother let out as much praise and congratulations as she could muster in her sick and weakened state, and a small, brilliant smile broke across his daughters face. He remembered how seeing it felt like he had been punched in the gut, the air quickly vacating his lungs, leaving behind a burning sensation. Her smile should have made him happy, seeing as how it was so rare, but image only made him sad. Well, sad and mad. First sad, that a thing as beautiful and as simple as her smile was so rare, and then mad at himself for all of his unforgivable mistakes.

A small knock on the door brought Matthew out of his bitter memories. He quickly readjusted himself and took a set in his large and high backed, burgundy leather chair behind his desk. He glued his eyes to the mess of papers, scattered on the desk's top and gathered some in his hands trying to look busy.

"Come in", Matthew called loudly, knowing the mostly sound proof walls of The Pearl had it's advantages, he couldn't hear Anna and Elsie while they cleaned and managed the house, and disadvantages, Anna and Elsie couldn't hear him when he called for them. He heard his office door open and did not bother looking up until it had quietly closed again.

Elsie stood in his office doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge her before she moved any deeper into the room.

"Yes Elsie," Matthew called to her, arranging the random mixture of papers in his hands into a neat pile and placing them on the edge of his desk to be properly looked at and sorted later, "What can I help you with?" He looked up at her, noticing how tired and solemn she appeared. His guilt was a plague upon this house.

"I've just come to give you the report of Ms. Crawley and Ms. Quinn's interaction." Her weary but pleasant voice matched her tired appearance.

"Oh yes," Matthew suddenly remembered that he had asked her to report to him on Mary and his daughter's first meeting. "Please have a seat." He gestured to one of the black leather chairs in front of his desk. He wanted to know exactly what had happened and how Quinn had responded to Mary, if she had responded at all. He had asked for Elsie's account of the meeting but he also just desperately wanted her opinion on Mary. Elsie was one of Matthew's oldest acquaintances and has had a front row ticket to the tragedies of the household. She had stood in the background of his life for so long and he had become dependent on her opinion in so many instances. She was a place of ever-solid ground in his life of perpetual turmoil and Matthew loved her because of it. Though Elsie kept an ever-present professional demeanor in his presence and managed their relationship so that he was always her superior, Matthew knew that she was aware of how much he depended on her, though she was kind enough to never let on to the wiser.

"Thank you Mr. Crawley." Elsie spoke as she sat herself in the soft chair across from him. Her posture remained straight and taut, her back never touching the back of the chair—ever the professional.

"I wish you and Anna would call me Matthew. I know that I employ you but we've known each other for years and we don't really have a business relationship… I know that Anna would call me Matthew but she follows your lead."

"If you really wish for me to call you Matthew than I will, but if you leave it up to me I'll continue referring to you in a professional manner." Always proper.

"Well that settles it," Matthew said in slightly exasperated fashion and raised his left eyebrow at her, "you know I'd never order you to do anything you didn't want to." Matthew paused for a moment considering her before launching into the real reason she had come into his office. He changed his demeanor, switching from one of a softhearted banter to his more familiar character of being somber and dejected.

"So…" he was unable to look her in the eye anymore and swiveled in his chair to face his left, facing the floor to ceiling wall of leather bound books but looking out the window further to his left, at the city skyline, "how did it go?" Matthew stared out the window without seeing anything; his thoughts were on his joyless daughter and how he no longer recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. Why did he even bother to ask how it went? He knew without a doubt that Mary would be unable to engage Quinn in any manner because she was a girl beyond anyone's grasp. Matthew settled deeper into his chair, readying himself for another incontrovertible disappointment. The sun would set on this day and Mary Crawley would have been unable to touch the well-guarded emotional borders of his tormented daughter.

Elsie adjusted her position and took in a deep breath, "It went…well."

Matthew's head whipped around to look at her, "What?" The word was whispered and rushed.

"Well it was all done very cleverly. She was able to get Quinn out of her house just by politely asking her to assist her with a drawing that she wanted to do. She then somehow convinced her to stay with her and draw her own picture, and they stayed like that for about fifteen minutes, not speaking at all, just sitting in content silence. Then Mary asked Quinn if they could trade pictures…Quinn stared at her a long time and then silently agreed. Then, Mary asked her if she could come back again and spend time with her and Quinn told her yes."

"She actually vocalized 'Yes'?" Matthew asked, bewildered and amazed. He felt a ghost of a smile flash across his lips, the seldom-used muscles feeling tight.

"Yes she did." A broad grin stretching across the woman's face, instantly making her look ten years younger. She looked to understand his questioning and astonishment. It was like hearing someone had touched the sun and returned unscathed. "The interaction was done very passively, Mary didn't say much and didn't engage with her too much either, but it was very successful all things considered…Mountains didn't move, but perhaps…the ground shifted slightly."

Matthew stared at her as if he were hearing another human voice for the first time. He had leaned toward her during her recount and his mouth hung, slightly slacked jawed. Elsie dropped her gaze and the dynamic of the room shifted once more, away from the comradeship they had experienced together mere moments before, and back to that of a superior and inferior. She twined and untwined her fingers together in her lap.

"I know that you haven't asked my opinion on the matter Mr. Crawley…"

Matthew cut her off, "You know I was seconds away from doing just that."

Elsie met his gaze once more and Matthew could tell that she was being very serious, "I think that it would be very wise to hire her for the position." She said it with such confidence and sincerity that Matthew found himself shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk, looking for the contract he had written up earlier in the week. Once it was in hand, Matthew looked up and saw that Elsie was standing.

"Should I go and fetch her then?"

Matthew nodded at her silently, feeling as though his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth. He felt suddenly very nervous and strangely giddy, a combination of emotions that he hadn't felt in years. He waited until Elsie had closed the door before he pushed himself away from his desk with the immediate desire to be mobile. He knew that he only had a few minutes to get himself in check, but he was so invigorated upon hearing of his daughter's successful (well perhaps successful was too strong of a word) interaction with another person, that he was unable to physically contain this new barrage of old emotions. He paced quickly, only covering the same five feet of polished wood in front of his desk. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and reminded his body of how it felt to be strong and fully alive. His mind was conjuring faded, dusty memories of his daughter laughing and playing, her head thrown back and joy radiating off of her with every movement, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Matthew allowed himself to hope that those memories could become reality again… someday. He continuously ran this hands through his hair, a nervous trait he had picked up years ago, enjoying the pleasant pressure of his fingertips against his prickling scalp. Every moment of his body felt enormous and grand. His heart pounded rapturously in his chest. He could hear the quick beating of it in his ears and he was sure he could feel his rib cage move with its continuous assaults, endlessly reminding him that he was indeed alive.

Matthew suddenly heard the sound of muffled talking coming from the other side of the door, and he halted his pacing in mid-stride. He was so blissfully happy at this moment that he wondered if he'd be able to stop himself from kissing the woman when she came through the door. He owed her everything already just for giving him hope that his daughter could possibly still have a happy life despite all of his previous mistakes. He should fall at her feet and beg for her to never leave.

A reminder of who he was suppose to be, a self-assured and strong man, slapped him across the face and he frantically tried to gather his wits about him. Matthew went around the edge of the desk and grabbed the same handful of papers that had seized when Elsie had entered, hoping to portray an easy confidence and cool manner that he did not feel. The voices suddenly faded and for several torturous moments Matthew stood as still as a statue beside his desk, papers fanned out in his hands, his slow inhales and exhales the only sound in the room. Deeply in…slowly out…deeply in…slowly out. To question why he was so nervous for their interaction barely touched his mind and a moment later, there were two startlingly loud knocks on his office door.

The knocks acted like the curtain rising on a Broadway play and Matthew's nerves, which had been powerful and debilitating enough to leave him trembling a moment before, suddenly vanished as the moment to perform presented itself to him. He easily found his familiar character, cool and collected, and saw his anxiety evaporate as though it had never been there. He stood tall and confident beside his desk and his breathing evened. "Come in." He called to her loudly and was glad to hear that his voice sounded steady and powerful. He kept his eyes glued to the papers in his hands, but saw out of the corner of his eye her tall, lean figure quickly enter his office. He took a second and slightingly prayed to not behave so foolishly again in her presence.

An impressively loud bang shook the air around him and he quickly looked up to see if she had been shot. But she stood tall just inside the door, her legs slightly spread balancing on impossibly high heals, her arms hung tightly by her sides, fists clenched and knuckles white, and her chest rose and fell quickly as if she had just finished a run. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips wet, and her dark ponytail hung slightly over her right shoulder. When Matthew first looked her into her impossibly dark eyes, he thought he saw a burning fury at play behind them, but the image was quickly replaced with a look that melted Matthew where he stood.

His breathing picked up and soon the steady rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of hers. 'Good Lord she was attractive.' She had the same slim figure and perfect facial features that a lot of the women who carelessly threw themselves at him had. It was well known that Matthew was a widower and worth hundreds of millions of dollars and so he often had to fight off beautiful women's advances. But Mary Crawley stood before him now and she was lovely and real, and she possessed a beauty that was all together different. Her gaze was just as intense and searing as it had been before, and Matthew felt frightfully and wonderfully exposed to her. A small part of him opened up again at her gaze, and he couldn't remember how to categorize the feeling of being both lighthearted and slightly nauseas at the same time.

She was the one to break eye contact this time, turning her head slightly to the right to stare out the open window behind him. Her jaw clenched and twitched, her eyes narrowed slightly, and she crossed her arms tightly in front of her under her breasts. She looked as if to be irritated with herself, and Matthew could understood why; he felt the same irritation with himself for allowing himself to be transfixed in her eyes again. Her slight movements broke the up the haze in the room and Matthew shuffled his feet uncomfortably unsure of how to carry on with their business after their second intense and loaded exchange in a single hour.

He held in his breath, tightened his gut and push forward against all of the discomfort in the room. After a pitiful attempt to clear his throat, Matthew gestured to the same chair that Elsie had sat in earlier and said through a forced smile, "Ms. Crawley, please do come in and have a seat."

Mary hesitated slightly by the doorway. Her look of irritation morphed into something that looked much more like biting anger. She still would not look at him and Matthew could see her jaw clench and unclench from across the room. Finally, with what looked like forced movements, Mary strode across the room and took a seat, crossing one long leg over the other. Her arms crossed over her torso and every inch of her body language screamed hostility. Matthew could understand her irritation with herself that the two of them seemed to be unable to look at each other without a barrage of obvious and embarrassing emotions crossing their faces, but he did not understand where her palpable anger was stemming from. He turned his back on her for a moment and strode around to the back of his desk, unbuttoning the single facet on his suit jacket as he walked, and seated himself uncomfortably in his normally very comfortable chair.

Convincing himself that it could have nothing to do with him, Matthew carried on, "Thank you for coming today." Why was he talking so loud? Matthew adjusted his tone and continued to address Mary who now seemed to be staring at his forehead. "I hope that Anna and Elsie were hospitable and helpful." Matthew raised his head slightly while speaking, attempting to look her in the eyes again, but Mary only adjusted her eyes to continue her staring match with his hairline.

"They were most helpful and hospitable, thank you." The words she spoke to his forehead were friendly and warm but her voice spoke them coldly. Matthew wasted only a second realizing how her voice was smooth and slightly deep but still entirely feminine before he continued.

"Good. I've read over your resume and your recommendations and I'm very pleased with what I see. Both are very impressive." Matthew meant it to be a nice compliment of her but Mary didn't acknowledge it in the slightest, she only continued staring at the spot above his eyes. Matthew was now completely puzzled by her hostility.

"And you've nannied for how many children?"

"Five."

"Excellent… And you've done it for…" Matthew took a moment to locate and then read her resume, "six years?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then," desperately trying to lighten the mood and crack through her icy exterior, "I guess it's safe to say that you enjoy it."

"I do."

Every one of Mary's responses to him was short, frigid, and directed to his forehead, and Matthew found himself getting more and more irritated with her with every passing second. He was trying hard to like her, especially given the small miracle she had worked with Quinn, but found it incredibly difficult to do so.

He indicated her resume once more, "And it says here that you only have one more year of graduate work before you graduate from DePaul University with a Master's in historical studies…May I offer you my early congratulations?"

"Thank you, sir." Cold.

"Oh, please call me Matthew."

"Thank you, Matthew." Freezing.

Matthew was now entirely irritated with her but tried to keep a level head and a sense of professionalism.

"I am also sure that Anna and Elsie have informed you of our situation and why, because of my busy work schedule, I require a caretaker for my daughter?" He had said it thinking that it would get some type of response from her. Most people tried to console him endlessly, to no avail, upon hearing of his wife and mother's passing.

"I have both been informed and seen for myself why a caretaker is necessary for Quinn." Her mouth moved but her eyes showed no emotion.

"Ok…good." Matthew hesitated slightly, fumbling through her words in his head, knowing that they held a double meaning. Eventually, the gist of her hard glare and tight body language slowly crept in on him. He continued, his words slow and carefully spoken, trying to fight against his swelling temper, "Elsie told me about your interaction with her…I was glad to hear that it went so successfully."

However, glad was the exact opposite of what Matthew was feeling. His brow was set in a straight line and mouth tightened against his teeth. He leaned in towards her intently; his irritation with her child-like behavior gnawing through his already stretched patience.

Mary responded, her voice calm and even, betraying none of the fear that Matthew was trying to instill in her. Again the words she spoke were not altogether unpleasant or harsh, but the way in that she spoke them felt as if she were slapping him across the face.

"Your daughter is a sweet girl… It's a shame that eye contact and one word from her lips is seen as a great accomplishment… Perhaps if she got the chance to engage with those closest to her more often she wouldn't feel led to leave such an emotional sheltered existence."

If the words were spoken in a different manner, Matthew might have found himself agreeing with her, but Mary's words were dripping with venom and she had found his jugular.

Matthew paused, now fully cognizant of why Mary Crawley was being so cold to him. He swallowed hard, his throat clenching tightly around air, and felt his vision start to blur with his rising anger. Feeling the pause in the room or perhaps the heat of Matthew's fury, Mary finally lowered her gaze and looked him in the eyes. The electric spark that charged the first two times they had looked at one another was replaced by a mutual dislike. The temperature of the room dropped as the sun hid behind a thick formation of clouds, giving everything in the room a slightly gray hue. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. Matthew knew that Mary saw him as an unfit and neglecting father, and he found himself feeling shamed, angry, embarrassed, tense, and defensive all at the same time. His fury must have been obvious but Mary never coward at the sight of it. Her eyes remained fixed on his and it was easy to see that she was just as consumed with anger as he was.

"What?" Matthew spat the word at her. He felt his anger surge through him, reaching his toes, fingertips, and the top of his skull.

Mary still did not quake at the sight of his anger but remained perfectly neutral, her eyes bore fixedly into his. Matthew was envious of how calm and steady her voice was as she responded. "For some reason you ignore your daughter. And she suffers because of it…sir."

"How dare you." His voice tense and strained.

Finally, her voice betrayed emotion and she spoke passionately as if they were the last words she would ever utter. "I only speak on behalf of a child who has lost her voice… along with her joy and lightheartedness…and her spirit… and her capability to love others as she should be loved by you."

He felt his jaw fall open and his eyes widen in shock. Matthew knew that he could throw her out then and there and he would never have to be a victim of her judgment again. She had insulted him as no one had ever before and he was dumbstruck because of it. His mouth moved but no words came out. His eyes roomed across her face, her furrowed brow, tight lips, and glossy eyes brimming with passion-induced tears, but Matthew couldn't settle one feature to look at. His hands clenched, he fidgeted in his seat, and he twisted his neck this way and that trying to physically fight off the loaded truth she had unleashed on him. She called him out on one of his life's biggest regrets and the sting of her knowing his greatest flaw attacked his brain and spine leaving him numb but still somehow able to feel the combined attack of her loathing and his own passionate self-hatred.

Then it hit him, and he knew the truth of the matter…Mary Crawley's fury was just. He deserved her criticism and her hate. He was a worthless father to an innocent child who could never know the whole truth of why her father distanced himself from her. Just as Quinn should hate him for his aversion, Mary should as well. He felt another dry-heave leave his stomach and focused all of his energy on keeping Mary from seeing it. He blinked, breaking their gaze again, looking at the papers in front of him again. It comforted him slightly to know that even though Mary Crawley was sure to hate him with the burning fury of a thousand suns, her hate was nothing compared with the way he detested himself. Matthew even respected her for hating him so boldly, knowing that if she already disliked him for his innumerable mistakes with Quinn, then she would certainly be an excellent care-taker for his daughter. Her instinct to protect his child from the monster that he was eased his ravaged heart.

"I can see how you view me as a father and I can tell you that your assessment is completely correct." He spoke the words quietly, his head still inclined towards his desk and his eyes shut. The words fell from his lips easily even though he had never said them out loud to another living soul before. "…Quinn deserves something that I am unable to provide for her, and I can easily see that you will serve her well." He looked up at Mary then and saw that her eyes had softened slightly at his confession and her lips were relaxed and somewhat parted. "Perhaps you can resurrect my daughter from the dead and protect her fragile heart from her useless father."

Mary's eyes softened more and Matthew could see her tightly wound body physically loosen. She no longer glared at him and he noticed her eyes slowly traveled across his seated form before finding the same pile of messy papers on his desk that he had stared at moments before. The tension in the room was replaced with discomfort at Matthew's spoken acknowledgement of her dislike. Nothing was said for a long time, and Matthew could only hear her slow breathing.

He was finally able to look at her closely and discovered that her physical beauty was both unique and striking, but mostly heartbreaking lovely. Her brows were dark and they arched highly over the planes of her perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Her nose was straight and her lips were full and the line of her neck plummeted into the soft-white skin of her chest.

Eventually, Mary raised her eyes to his once more and every trace of the hatred that had glowed in her eyes minutes before had vanished. Her eyes shined brightly and they were full of an unsaid comprehension of their situation. They looked at one another and Matthew was sure that a mutual understanding was known between them. She would know that he hated himself for Quinn's condition just as much as she did; and he would know that she would do everything in her power to try and fix his mistakes. Perhaps with that shared understanding, the two of them could co-exist together and be OK. Their relationship with one another would be dysfunctional, tense, and highly irregular; but it would be a system that had to work if Quinn was to be saved.

Mathew once again broke through the thick tension in the room. His voice was calm now but it still sounded defeated. "I guess before we go any further I should inquire whether or not you actually want the position? Especially now that you are fully aware of the…situation."

Mary only paused momentarily. "I do want it…" lowering her gaze again to her hands in her lap, "very much."

"OK, I'm very glad to hear it… Well, let's discuss the finer subjects of the contract." Matthew handed her a copy of a two page legal contract that he had written the previous morning. He had written it plainly, knowing that the finer facet of the practice of law was not something that 99% of the population understood. "Read it over and please speak up if there is anything that you would like to discuss."

Mary scanned the first page quickly and flipped it over to the second page soon after; her eyes scanned the page rapidly as if looking for something particular. Eventually she must have found it because her eyes slowed and they slid from left to right at a more normal reading pace.

After a moment's pause Mary and said, "I would like to discuss the 'overnight clause'. It says," Mary read straight from the contract, 'Ms. Mary Crawley will be required to spend the entirety of a weeknight or full weekend (including normally scheduled hours on Friday day in addition to overtime hours of all of Friday evening, Saturday day, Saturday night, and Sunday day) with Quinn on days requested by Mr. Matthew Crawley provided that he gives her a full two days notice prior to staying a week night and a full weeks notice prior to staying a weekend.' Mary stopped reading and looked up at him, "Unfortunately, that is just not going to cut it for me. That is an entirely too open statement and I feel that if I agree to these terms, I will be signing away all of my own time that I require for personal matters and for school. I truly don't mind spending a weekend or night every once in a while if it is needed but…I simply cannot agree to this as it is written."

Matthew pondered her words for a moment and rejoiced at the feeling of being in the familiar territory of a contract negotiation. He couldn't help but feel confident at the obvious home-field advantage that he had over her in this department. "Ok…that's fair enough. How about I change the contract to something more on the terms of you only being legally obligated to possibly stay three nights a week and possibly stay every other weekend."

"That is still the possibility," Mary emphasized the word as he had, "of requiring eight out of fourteen nights…over half. I'm sorry but no."

"Two nights a week and every other weekend."

"Six out of fourteen nights, nearly half." She shook her head silently from left to right.

Matthew was starting to get slightly frustrated with her again. "You do know that I'll pay you handsomely for your troubles and you've seen your accommodations…I think you'll be very comfortable here."

"Yes, I know I would be and you are already paying me handsomely for regular hours… so, I just can't justify putting a price tag on my own free-time and my own life."

Matthew's demeanor shifted again and his voice was quite and weighted down by his own shame, "But you've seen how desperately Quinn needs a caretaker."

Mary paused considering and Matthew was glad to see that her anger did not return. She spoke quietly too, mirroring his somber image, "Yes I have…but I'll be here for her 90% of the time she's awake this summer…Perhaps you could try to be there for her the other 10% of the time, Matthew."

He immediately fell in love with the way she said his name. It was as if he had never heard it spoken before. He silently willed her to say it again just so he could watch her mouth move around it; her lips would open on the first syllable and puckered on the second. He was just on the verge of asking her to stay for dinner, when Mary continued.

"Besides, if you go with your own logic, you'd need a stay-in nanny, and…" she looked away from him again, back to her hands folded in her lap, "I don't think my boyfriend would like that very much."

Well that news shocked him out of his dream like state. He felt his heart sink down to his stomach and give a single irritating thump. He discovered that he was more than slightly bothered by the information. He was sure that she could feel his disappointment, because she looked at him again and for a moment the shared the same knowing and intense gaze that they had shared twice before.

Matthew quickly recovered, feeling his face warm from an entirely different type of embarrassment. He tried to play it off coolly and responded with false interest and fake happiness, "Oh, you have a boyfriend? Wonderful." His voice broke slightly on the last word making him flush even more.

Mary was kind enough to ignore his squeak and responded in the affirmative, "Yes, we've been together for about three years and living together for the past 10 months."

That was another enormous blow to the gut. Matthew was unable to speak and he only nodded his head up and down slowly, hoping that his face did not look as foolish as he felt.

"So…" Mary pushed on looking at him expectantly. She paused, waiting for him to speak.

Matthew stammered and looked about the room unknowingly, completely at a loss of what Mary was expecting him to say. He was sure that he looked like a total fool but, wreck his brains with all his might, he had completely lost track of their conversation since she had unloaded that bombshell on him.

"I'm sorry?" Matthew responded, eyes wide with total confusion.

Matthew then saw a small tug at the corner of Mary's mouth and before he had a chance to take another breath, a full, open-mouth smile broke across her face, transforming her into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes crinkled at the sides and her cheeks gave way to small dimples. Her mouth was wide and her skin flushed slightly, giving her face a small amount of beautiful color. Matthew wondered if someone could match and bottle the color of her flushed skin. If so he would paint all of the walls of his house in the color of her smiling face and waste hours of his life staring at it. He immediately felt like a younger man and couldn't stop returning her smile with one of his own. The last time he had smiled like this must have been months ago, and his facial muscles felt tight, but he couldn't wash the stupid grin from his face while he stared intently at hers.

"We were discussing the 'overnight clause'… You had offered two week nights and every other weekend and I had shut you down once again, with a well thought out and flawless argument."

Was she flirting with him? Surely not…but…maybe.

"OK, OK," Matthew raised both arms in the air in mock surrender, while laughing, "This is my final offer Ms. Crawley…" the lightheartedness of the room subsided slightly, "…how about I require your presence in my home for a full evening once a week, let's say every Wednesday night, and I also require your presence every other weekend."

Mary paused considering, though a small grin still remained on her lips, much to Matthew's delight. "How about every four weeks?"

"Every other weekend."

"Every three weeks?"

"Every. Other. Weekend."

"And you'll still 'reward me handsomely'?" Mary raised her hands to etch the quotations in the air.

"Most handsomely."

Mary paused and directed her gaze out the back window again. She seemed to be considering it thoughtfully and Matthew was pleased to see it; really he was willing to throw the whole 'overnight clause' out the window if it was really a make or break point for her. He had to have her…for Quinn.

"Mandatory every Wednesday and every other weekend?" Mary asked clarifying once more.

Matthew nodded silently, the anticipation eating away at his insides.

"Agreed." Mary smiled widely again and Matthew was please to find that she seemed to be just as happy with the agreement as he was.

"Great." Matthew beamed at her, making absolutely no attempt to hide his joy. "I'll go ahead and make those changes to it now." He swiveled in his chair to the right of his desk where an enormous iMac computer sat. He quickly opened the document and started rewording the clause. "Was everything else agreeable for you?"

"Yes I think so. During the week, except for the newly agreed upon Wednesday hours, I'll be here from eight in the morning until Quinn falls asleep or seven at night, which ever comes first, all throughout the summer. And when she and I go back to school in the fall, I'll need to be available from two in the afternoon to pick her up from school until eight in the evening. The end date of the contract it fine too. I believe that it's a week after my graduation date but that is not a big deal because who knows if I'll actually have a job in my field by then. Your requirements and expectations and all of that business are pretty much in line with what my previous families wanted too."

"Great." Matthew finished typing and turned the monitor towards her so she could get a look at the changes he had made to the contract. She must have been unable to see it properly still, because she suddenly rose from her set and lean over his desk. Her movements placed her within a few feet of the monitor and an equally short distance away from where he sat.

While she read the newly typed lines of the contract, Matthew kept his eyes fixed on the silhouette of her face. He was closer than he had ever been to her before, and now with less than an arm's reach separating them, Matthew could clearly see a series of small horizontal lines etched into her skin at the corner of her eye. Matthew was sure if she were to smile again, the folds of her skin would match up perfectly with those small lines, thus creating her crinkle-eyed smile. He silently thanked God that Mary Crawley did posses some physical flaw, though he was already finding her more attractive because of it. Thankfully, Mary took her set again before she turned to look at him once again. Matthew was unsure what embarrassment might have found him if he had locked eyes with her with only his desk between them.

"That looks to be correct."

"Great, let me just run a few copies for us to sign."

Matthew, pressed print and heard the slow moan as his printer rose from its slumber. Why was it that with all of his money and resources, he was still unable to find a personal computer printer that didn't take at least two minutes to print a single sheet of paper? The room fell into uncomfortable silence and Matthew found himself staring at her blankly again. She looked at him and Matthew quickly looked away, trailing his eyes across the books that ran along his walls, trying to seem as if he was not just staring a whole through her a minute ago. He realized that he would have to resort to small talk so that he wouldn't find himself gaping at her for no reason again.

"So…you're a historical studies major? That's very interesting and I have always enjoyed reading history… What area do you study?"

"Mainly European history beginning in the twentieth century…post World War I really." Mary answered him kindly, playing along with his game of small talk.

"Fascinating…any idea about what you want to write your dissertation on?" Matthew finally heard his printer suck in the first page of paper.

"I've got a few ideas but I haven't settled on anything yet. I'm considering doing something on how both World Wars forever changed the aristocratic makeup of England but I haven't been able to wrap my head around the idea yet."

"Fascinating."

And they fell into uncomfortable silence once more; the only sound in the room was the printer's slow mechanical song. Matthew chuckled once, humorlessly, at their current predicament. This meeting with her had experienced so many emotional highs and lows—intense glares, passionate hatred, mutual understanding, and light flirtation and now they both sat in a bored silence.

Thankfully, the printer finally came to a stop and Matthew nearly jumped out of his chair to gather the warm papers in his grasp. He then sorted out the two separate copies, aligned their edges and placed a single staple in the left hand corner of each set. He then turned back to her and found that she was also standing, her black leather bag rested against her left hip and her hands were intertwined her front of her. She gave him a small, embarrassed smile and Matthew realized once again that he was staring at her. Shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, Matthew walked around the front of the desk to stand beside her. He realized that with her high heels on, they were nearly the same height; she was perhaps only a single inch shorter than him but their eye lines matched almost perfectly.

He then bent and placed the two identical copies of the contract side-by-side on his desk and flipped them both open to the second page. He grabbed the nearest pen and took the first initiative by sloppily signing his name and scratching out the date on the top line of both copies, before he turned to hand the pen off to her. He dropped it into her outstretched palm, not daring to touch her skin. Mary's signature was much prettier, a combination of pleasant lopes and hard lines. While she leaned over to write, her ponytail swung entirely over her right shoulder, blocking her face but exposing the back of her exquisite neck. Matthew felt a sudden urge to run the back of his finger across her exposed skin, wanting to know if it felt as smooth and silky as it looked. He slowly began to raise his left hand, indenting to do what his heart desired. Once his hand it had gotten to about the height of his chest, Mary suddenly placed the pen back on the desk and turned to look at him. Her movement snapped him out of his trance and he recovered poorly by swatting at the air, trying to hit a non-existent fly. Mary gave him a perplexed look but didn't seem to be bothered with it too much.

"OK," Matthew bent and grabbed both copies, "Here is one for your records," he handed one off to her, "and I'll keep the other for my own records." Matthew suddenly realized that their time together was ending and he found himself disappointed at the idea. "I'll notify security and the front desk of everything and when you come on Monday they should have an ID and a set of key cards for you…Sorry in advance for Thomas, he's good at his job but he's a bit of a prick."

This comment earned him another large, beaming smile from her. "I've already noticed."

He found himself smiling again, "Did you have any other questions for me?"

"No, I think between you, Anna, and Ms. Hughes, all of my inquires have been answered."

"OK…well then," Matthew gazed at her for another moment, entrapped and not wanting to move from where he stood before her. He felt the same burning intensity make its way up through his chest and out through his eyes, connecting with her body and wrapping tightly around her. His eager gazed was matched by her own passionate stare and, while they stood so close to one another, mere feet separating them, Matthew was sure he could feel the pleasant heat rolling off of her body in waves. He wanted to lived in those waves, set up camp and never leave pleasant shadow of her body. He licked his lips, noting their sudden dryness and saw her mirror his movements. He mind raced, images flashed across his vision, and he was sure that she must have been having the same stupid and inappropriate thoughts. He suddenly took a step toward her; as sure as he had ever been before in his life, that he no longer wanted the few feet to separate the space between their tense bodies.

But Mary broke with his gaze suddenly, looking down at her feet, her cheeks a burning red. "I'll be off then…thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Crawley."

"Please call me Matthew." Feeling just as embarrassed as she was. "I beg you not to follow Elsie's lead."

Matthew paused, gathering his thoughts, wanting his next words to equally portray his gratitude and fear, "I've made countless mistakes over the past years…and wrongly they have infiltrated every facet of my retched life, paying special attention to my innocent daughter. I am unable to tell you of my greatest sins because words can do them no justice… The reason I keep my distance is to protect her from an unspeakable truth…Know that it pains me more than you could ever grasp to see her so joyless and alone…Believe it or not her happiness and wellbeing are my top most concerns and therefore… you will be of great importance, not only to her but to me as well. Come to me with any problem. My door will always be open to you, Ms. Crawley."

Mary stared at him, her lips slightly parted, the shock in her eyes evident across the rest of her face. Eventually she was able to spatter a coherent response, "Thank you…Thank you for your honesty and kindness. I know Quinn will be a challenge but…I feel like I can make a difference in her life."

Matthew did not respond with words, he only inclined his head slightly towards her and made a small bowing movement with his torso.

Mary gave him one last loaded look before turning and striding towards his office door. Matthew felt a chill trace up his spine at the loss of her warmth from his side. He turned and watched her go, wanting to memorize the movements of her body. Once Mary reached the door she paused momentarily, before slowly lifting her left hand, placing it on the handle, and turning her head and torso around so that he could look fully into her eyes once more.

"And Matthew," Mary called back to him and his knees slightly buckled at the sound of his name on her lips again. Matthew saw her eyes wonder across his face, seeming to memorize the lines is skull and the curvature of features. She moistened her lips once more and accessed his soul through his eyes one last time before speaking with all of the seduction of a Siren's song, "…you can call me Mary."

He was the first one to smile this time. His eyes narrowing as his cheeks bunched beneath them. Her responding smile was more of a knowing smirk and Matthew found it devastatingly adorable. She turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped through it, but before she closed it completely, she popped her head back through, raised one perfect eye brow at him and said in manner that could only be described as flirtatious, "I'll see you Monday." She then retracted her head, trying but failing to hide her smile, and closed the door behind her.

Matthew's smile didn't leave his face for a few more moments and once it was gone it was replaced with a look of total astonishment with the woman he had just encountered. He strode around the back of his desk in a completely star-struck manner, continuously sliding his fingers through his thick hair, his mind buzzing with thousands of images of Mary Crawley. He plopped himself down lifelessly at his desk chair, his body slouched, legs spread open, and arms hanging off the sides of the arm rests. He was exhausted and elated.

"Mary…Mary…Mary…" he whispered her name over and over again into the emptiness of the room, liking how it tasted on his tongue and rejoicing in the knowledge that he would get to see her again so soon and then nearly everyday that followed.

"Mary…