“Okay, girls,” Mrs. Whitmore finally says, closing her laptop. “I’m sorry to make you wait. I guess you’ve heard Carla Stratton is leaving Alpha Delt.”
“No, I hadn’t heard,” Ellie says, glancing at me. “Have you heard that?”
I shake my head. “Who’s taking her place?”
“I haven’t gotten that far. Greek House Resource, a wonderful company who pairs prospective House Directors with sororities, is helping me. I’ve just uploaded our job description.” She pats her Mac, leans forward. “So. What can I help you with? Your text said you had an amazing idea.” She shows her enthusiasm by rubbing her palms together.
Ellie and I give each other confident smiles. “We really do,” I say.
“Well, let’s hear it. I can hardly stand the suspense.”
“Miss Ophelia’s funeral had a big impact on us,” Ellie begins, scooting to the front of her chair.
Mrs. Whitmore’s posture stiffens. “How so? You girls didn’t even know her.”
“No, we didn’t,” I say. “But her funeral was so lovely, and with the hundreds of people there it made us realize how loved she was. She must have done a lot for Alpha Delt.”
“She worked here thirty-two years,” Mrs. Whitmore says.
Ellie and I turn to look at each other. “Wow,” Ellie says. “That’s insane.”
Mrs. Whitmore smiles. “We were lucky to have her. She was quite a cook.”
“I wish we’d been able to have at least one of her dinners,” I say.
Ellie doesn’t comment. She’s all business now. “After her funeral, Cali and I had this long conversation about the way she died. And how she didn’t know she had uterine cancer.”
Mrs. Whitmore rolls her eyes. “She should have gone to the doctor at the first sign. You don’t get to stage-four cancer without symptoms.”
“That’s why we’re here,” I say.
She looks at me curiously.
I sit up tall in my chair. “She couldn’t go to the doctor because she had no health insurance.”
“We think health insurance should be one of the staff benefits,” Ellie says with her chin held high.
Mrs. Whitmore uncrosses then re-crosses her legs, clasps her hands on her lap. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why?” Ellie asks.
“That’s a costly proposition. We are a small business here. If a staff member desires health insurance, he or she should find a job elsewhere.”
“But we don’t want them leaving us, do we?” Ellie’s eyes are blinking rapidly.
Lilith Whitmore gives us a half-shrug. “If they must have health insurance, I suppose we don’t have a choice.”
“But they work so hard,” I say, “and they don’t get paid all that well.”
“They do so much for us,” Ellie adds. “It’s the least we could do for them.”
Now Mrs. Whitmore’s arms are folded across her chest. She’s tapping her foot ever so slightly. “You girls don’t need to be concerning yourselves with House matters. That’s what I’m for. You need to be enjoying your college days.”
“But we are concerned, Mrs. Whitmore,” Ellie says.
“What makes you think they aren’t paid well? How would you even know that?”
“Miss Pe—” As soon as the words leave my lips I know I have goofed.
