A woman rapped on the window, making Elinor jump.
“You plan to sit out here all day? You’re Elinor Dashwood aren’t you?”
Elinor lowered her window. “Yes, I’m Elinor. I’ll be right there.” She turned off the car, grabbed her purse, and jumped out to follow the tiny woman with the bright red heels.
The lady opened the door to the office and held it open, patting Elinor’s arm in a motherly way as she let her pass. “I’m Rosa. Sorry to startle you there. It’s just, I have another woman coming right after you, and everyone thinks they need to be twenty minutes early to an interview—well, except you, and I want you to get all your time.”
Elinor opened her mouth to apologize, but Rosa held up her hand as if reading her mind. “You’re not late, mija. You’re right on time.”
She led Elinor over to her desk and pointed at her chair. “Sit. We can talk after we do the most important part of your interview. I have a letter open on this screen here with a bunch of numbers in it. It’s fake, so don’t worry about messing this up or seeing a real client’s private information. I want you to add the data from the letter to a spreadsheet I have open on this other screen and give me the new totals. Go ahead. Let’s see how you do.”
This was not what she’d expected, but somehow less intimidating than sitting across from someone being asked questions nobody answered with real honesty. If people were honest about where they saw themselves in five years, they’d say, a little older, wiser, plumper, and likely more stressed out.
Numbers, on the other hand, numbers were honest. Numbers didn’t need special dressing. Elinor studied the screen, taking time to identify which columns the numbers belonged in before plugging them into the spreadsheet. She double-checked the math with the large calculator on the desk, and then looked up for Rosa’s inspection.
“Muy bien. Now we can have ourselves a chat. Are you good with phones? Do you know how to listen to people and how to cut them off politely before they take your whole afternoon talking in circles?”
“Like getting to the meat of the conversation?” Elinor asked.
“Exactly. You’d need to be friendly but firm sometimes.”
“I can definitely do that.”
More questions followed, each more to the point and uniquely Rosa. Talking to her was like talking to a favorite aunt. It should have taken a while to warm up to her, but Rosa would stand for none of that.
“Now, Mr. Ferrars does a lot of in-person appointments in neighboring towns, so they’ll be times when it’s just you and me in the office. Or even just you. My husband and I would like to take a few trips before we’re too old to enjoy them. So, if you’re here alone, you just lock the door and only open it to clients with appointments. There’s no need to have a salesman in here trying to push a new water cooler on you or any of that.”
“Mr. Ferrars? Edward Ferrars?”
“The boss. You’ll love him.”
“Yes, of course.” Of course it would be Edward. Of course she’d have this awesome job dangled in front of her only to find this out now. Edward was not the type to have smiling plaques of himself on the wall, or even his name in gold lettering on the door. Glancing around, she finally spotted his framed diploma from Columbia University. The office didn’t seem fancy enough for a degree from there, but then, there were a lot of understated things about Edward.
“Edward trusts me more than he trusts himself. Told me to hire the closest thing to my clone I could find. I’d say it was flattery, but he’s not much of a flatterer. Don’t ever ask him if he likes your new hairstyle.” Rosa laughed, and Elinor gave her an obligatory chuckle in return.
“I’m not sure Edward would want me then.”
“Oh, you’re perfect. I’m not promising anything yet, but I have a good feeling about you.”
“Edward’s my new across-the-street neighbor.” Elinor fidgeted. “He may want a say-so in hiring me, considering we’ve met.”
“That’s a fair point. I’ll ask him.”
“Will you tell him no hard feelings either way?”
“Of course you’d say that, amiga mía. Now let’s talk about scheduling clients. We have a lot to get to before my next interviewee arrives.” After a long explanation, she had Elinor practice on the scheduling software, and although Elinor no longer planned to take the job, she couldn’t bring herself to not try her best. After all, Rosa would be reporting on her to Edward, and Elinor cared what he thought of her, despite wishing she didn’t.
***
Edward pulled into the office parking lot. Rosa’s old Rav-4 was still in her regular parking spot. Good. She could tell him about the interviews today. He didn’t really want a new office assistant. He liked the way Rosa ran things. Half the time she did tasks he hadn’t even thought to ask for yet. She was professional without being stuffy, stubborn when it called for it, and gracious when others would lose their cool. She had been one of the best things about moving his office to Datefield, but she wanted time off to travel and see her grandkids this year. It made sense to get someone in place to make that happen. It would take a while to train someone who could keep up with her. They might even have to go through several office assistants before they found the right fit.
He unlocked the front door and walked in. Rosa was on the phone. From the sounds of it, with Mrs. Greenfield. The woman watched the stock market like a hawk, and it had been a bad week for tech stocks.
Rosa mouthed, “Line one,” and pointed to his office door. It was his turn to reassure their client not to sell everything and go back to stuffing cash under her mattress. It took ten minutes, but Mrs. Greenfield finally promised to relax and enjoy her evening. Growing money was not something that happened in a straight line, which was hard for a lot of people to stomach.
He was careful not to put his lower income clients in anything risky anyway. Many of them needed their money liquid enough for the rainy-day bumps they experienced when a vehicle died or a child had an unexpected trip to the E.R.
His mother was livid that he would waste his education on backwoods bumpkins. She considered his little business venture ‘rebellious.’ Maybe it was. Compared to his brother, who was a heartbeat away from making partner at his high powered law firm, or his sister, who ran her husband’s congressional campaigns, his life seemed pretty plain. But he got a lot of satisfaction out of lifting people from the brink of poverty into reliable solvency that would last their whole lives. He’d only just started here, and he wanted to stay and build a future in Datefield, to be someone his clients could depend on year after year to safeguard their retirement.
