when I’m talking. Otherwise everyone in
a five-county radius will be able to hear you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Wow. She hadn’t realized this little station could broadcast that far.
Luke sat in front of the console, slid some CDs into slots with his left hand, and with his right chose a switch from about
a dozen on a board and slid it down its track to the bottom. “There.” He made some notes on a sheet of paper. “We’ve got ten
minutes until I back-call these.”
Ten minutes to land herself a job. Well, she’d lost one in about the same amount of time, hadn’t she?
“Let me tell you how it works around here,” Luke said. “My show is eight to twelve, mornings and evenings. We sign off at
midnight. Toby Henzig comes in at six A.M. , turns the system on, and reads the early reports. Then he comes back at noon and hosts the open mic, reads the stock reports,
plays what he wants until eight. You’d work during business hours, of course.” Luke leaned back in his chair as though he
had nothing better to do than to gab the afternoon away. “Do you have a résumé?”
“No, I was passing by and decided on the spur of the moment to come in. But I can bring you one later today.”
“No problem. Give me the condensed version.”
Claire took a deep breath and told him about her education, her career—or what passed for a career for an Elect woman in a
small town. It was better than a résumé that held nothing but, say, assisting at Linda Bell’s daycare, which is what the womanly
ideal seemed to be. “I was employee of the month recently,” she concluded, “and I passed the Management Potential course in
Seattle with flying colors.”
He was silent for a moment. She noticed that he hadn’t made a single note on his sheet of paper, though he’d been rolling
his pen between his fingers the whole time she’d been talking. Maybe he was just killing time in between songs. Maybe she
was fooling herself that she was any kind of prize on the job market. Maybe—
“Why’d you leave the bank?” he asked at last.
She’d known she’d have to field this one; she just wished she’d had a little more time to prepare. As in, more than an hour
after the event. But Luke was Elect—or had been—or was going to be. She was a little confused on that point. But it seemed
that he would understand. She’d always been honest with herself so there was no point in whitewashing anything now.
“My manager said our new-client metrics were down because people were associating me with . . . with a court case going on
in Pitchford right now.”
“With Phinehas.”
Of course, he would know all about it. Probably better than she did. “Yes.”
“You know that’s illegal, right?”
“Apparently not. There’s a provision about people who cause an undue hardship to the bank. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone
signs an ‘at-will’ agreement when they’re hired. You can be fired at any time for no reason at all.”
“And you can be hired at any time for the best reasons in the world. When can you start?”
She blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“I’m willing to wait if you wanted to take a few days off.” He clicked his pen into action. “Give me a start date, and I’ll
have your office cleaned up by then. At the moment, all the offices are full of crates and farm magazines and thirty years’
worth of dead spiders.”
Claire finally got her mouth closed and her brain in gear. So what if he didn’t need to see her résumé or check her references?
He was obviously a man of action—look at what he’d already accomplished. She’d be crazy if she did anything but jump at this
opportunity—and who knew how far it would go?
“I can start right now, if you’d like,” she heard herself say.
“Perfect. I’ll ask John Willetts, the owner, to put you on the payroll while you go home and get out of your Bank Lady suit.
Come back in something you can take on the dead
a five-county radius will be able to hear you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Wow. She hadn’t realized this little station could broadcast that far.
Luke sat in front of the console, slid some CDs into slots with his left hand, and with his right chose a switch from about
a dozen on a board and slid it down its track to the bottom. “There.” He made some notes on a sheet of paper. “We’ve got ten
minutes until I back-call these.”
Ten minutes to land herself a job. Well, she’d lost one in about the same amount of time, hadn’t she?
“Let me tell you how it works around here,” Luke said. “My show is eight to twelve, mornings and evenings. We sign off at
midnight. Toby Henzig comes in at six A.M. , turns the system on, and reads the early reports. Then he comes back at noon and hosts the open mic, reads the stock reports,
plays what he wants until eight. You’d work during business hours, of course.” Luke leaned back in his chair as though he
had nothing better to do than to gab the afternoon away. “Do you have a résumé?”
“No, I was passing by and decided on the spur of the moment to come in. But I can bring you one later today.”
“No problem. Give me the condensed version.”
Claire took a deep breath and told him about her education, her career—or what passed for a career for an Elect woman in a
small town. It was better than a résumé that held nothing but, say, assisting at Linda Bell’s daycare, which is what the womanly
ideal seemed to be. “I was employee of the month recently,” she concluded, “and I passed the Management Potential course in
Seattle with flying colors.”
He was silent for a moment. She noticed that he hadn’t made a single note on his sheet of paper, though he’d been rolling
his pen between his fingers the whole time she’d been talking. Maybe he was just killing time in between songs. Maybe she
was fooling herself that she was any kind of prize on the job market. Maybe—
“Why’d you leave the bank?” he asked at last.
She’d known she’d have to field this one; she just wished she’d had a little more time to prepare. As in, more than an hour
after the event. But Luke was Elect—or had been—or was going to be. She was a little confused on that point. But it seemed
that he would understand. She’d always been honest with herself so there was no point in whitewashing anything now.
“My manager said our new-client metrics were down because people were associating me with . . . with a court case going on
in Pitchford right now.”
“With Phinehas.”
Of course, he would know all about it. Probably better than she did. “Yes.”
“You know that’s illegal, right?”
“Apparently not. There’s a provision about people who cause an undue hardship to the bank. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone
signs an ‘at-will’ agreement when they’re hired. You can be fired at any time for no reason at all.”
“And you can be hired at any time for the best reasons in the world. When can you start?”
She blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“I’m willing to wait if you wanted to take a few days off.” He clicked his pen into action. “Give me a start date, and I’ll
have your office cleaned up by then. At the moment, all the offices are full of crates and farm magazines and thirty years’
worth of dead spiders.”
Claire finally got her mouth closed and her brain in gear. So what if he didn’t need to see her résumé or check her references?
He was obviously a man of action—look at what he’d already accomplished. She’d be crazy if she did anything but jump at this
opportunity—and who knew how far it would go?
“I can start right now, if you’d like,” she heard herself say.
“Perfect. I’ll ask John Willetts, the owner, to put you on the payroll while you go home and get out of your Bank Lady suit.
Come back in something you can take on the dead
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