39
Clara had over-prepared for the job fair in her eagerness to find her replacement, and she was determined not to let Yoli’s news distract her from her sales pitch. She had a display set up at her table beside the other vendors, and had printed pictures of the very aesthetically pleasing medical office, reception area, and kitchen, even going so far as to list among the perks of the job the high-quality, unlimited snacks and cokes available to all employees. The starting wage was competitive, the hours flexible (due to her willingness to hire a full-timer or several part-timers), and she was even offering a wardrobe stipend to help them meet the dress code.
Competition was not fierce; there wasn’t much of a job market to speak of in Romeo. Unfortunately, most of the seniors were planning to leave town after graduation, whether for college or to find better job opportunities and social lives in El Paso or even farther away. It was the curse of the small town. The few who did stay would have to choose between a life of substance abuse and government assistance, or making an honest living for themselves. Clara was looking for the latter demographic.
“Clara!”
“Oh, hi, Asher,” she greeted her cousin. “Any interest in working for my mom and Dr. Pike? Pay’s pretty good. You could buy stuff for your truck.”
“Nah, I’m going to join the police department,” he said. “Their booth has bubble tea!”
Clara looked down the row. Jordan stood behind his table, looking smug about the line of students he had attracted. He smiled at Clara and waved.
“Dang it,” she muttered. She turned back to Asher. “You think your dad will let you do that?”
“He can’t stop me, can he?”
“Right. Good point. Do you happen to know any girls who aren’t planning to leave for college, but they’re kind of responsible and smart? You know what, it could be a guy, too, although I personally think they’re way less mature at this age and working at a doctor’s office requires sensitivity and discretion.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, noncommittal. “Maybe you should be giving out bubble tea.”
“I’m realizing that. Do you know anyone who’s getting married?” she asked as she thought of it.
“Yeah,” he said suddenly. “Taylor and Baylor are going to get married when Baylor turns eighteen.”
“Which one’s the girl?”
“Baylor. Duh.”
“Well, send her over!” she said heartily. “I’d like to wish her joy!”
“Sure,” he said, amused. “I’ll see if I can find her.”
“Bless you, Asher! There’s hope!”
Baylor was the one. Clara knew it within moments of meeting her. She was quiet and timid, but clearly tempted by the pay rate and the lack of fast food involved.
“It’s calm and quiet, it’s safe, and it’s reliable,” Clara told her. “Dr. Pike and Dr. Wilder are both professionals, easy to work for, super nice and so patient. I’ve never even seen them get mad. Well, not at work. Dr. Wilder is my mom, and she gets mad like normal moms at home. But it’s a great work environment, and they’ll be happy to work with you about taking time off and things like that. I don’t want to get too personal, but if you had a baby, you could probably even bring it to work with you. There’s a lot of downtime.”
Baylor’s eyes widened a little in a way that told Clara it was more than a remote possibility. “Can I have an application, please?”
With the job fair out of the way and a hopeful candidate lined up, Clara could turn her focus to Yoli’s wedding.
She sat on the living room floor that evening with invitations spread out before her on the coffee table. They’d printed them at the office that afternoon as soon as Yoli had confirmed the priest’s availability, and the bride had taken half of them home to address and stamp.
Clara was halfway through her share of the guest list when she noticed the man on the couch behind her and to the left. She wasn’t sure how she had missed his arrival; his sock feet, crossed at the ankles, rested on the table a respectful distance from her stack of envelopes. He was slouched low against the cushions, his eyes on his tablet, scrolling so slowly and steadily that she knew he was reading a book.
She smiled to herself, peeled a stamp and stuck it on the envelope she’d just addressed. There were only about a dozen other places Jesse could have chosen to read for a couple hours before bed.