Circle of Three by Patricia Gaffney Read Free Book Online

helped that I’d already planted the seed in his mind at the bank. “Interesting you should say that, because as it happens I have been looking for some help. Not formally, I haven’t advertised yet, just been keeping my eyes open.” He looked straight at Carrie. “It’s gotten too much for me. I’ve got a wonderful girl, but she’s more clerical, you know, she follows directions. What I need is somebody who can make decisions, somebody bright who can talk to the instructors on their own level. Chris—that’s my secretary—she’s a sweetheart, I’d be lost without her, but now I really need somebody a cut above, you know what I mean.” Above his goatee, his cheeks glowed pink with good health. “May I have a little more coffee?”
    Carrie cleared her throat. I, her mother, heard amusement, resignation, skepticism, and curiosity, but I expect Brian just heard her clear her throat. “How interesting,” she said dryly. “Tell us more.”
    “Well.” He hitched his body around toward her, crossing one muscle-bound thigh over the other. “I’m looking for someone to take some of the load off, and that means dealing with advertisers, the day-to-day troubleshooting, making up the curriculum brochure—that’s one of the big things, I want completely out from under that, and it’s a big job. Somebody to interface one-on-one with our current instructors, and also help recruit more. I’d like somebody to brainstorm with me over new courses, new angles, trying to keep it fresh and alive. Because you gotta constantly refresh, you can’t get stale in this business or you’re dead. I subscribe to four newspapers, and I probably read eight more on-line, every day, day in and day out. Got to stay fresh. Thanks.” He stopped talking to gulp his coffee.
    I was getting excited myself—maybe he should give me the job. The Other School has courses like “Computers Don’t Byte,” “Your Backyard Vineyard,” “A Closer Look at Van Gogh.” They have them on weeknights in places like the Unitarian Church or the Elks Club, anyplace there’s anempty room and a proprietor who’ll let Brian borrow it. Carrie took a course in tole painting last summer; Birdie and I took one called “The Joys of Grandparenting.” (George wouldn’t go with me, of course, but it’s just as well, because frankly that one was a boondoggle.) The fees are cheap, and the teachers get paid based on how many students enroll in their classes. I imagine overhead’s practically nothing. My guess is, in a small, Clayborne-type way, Brian Wright’s making a killing.
    “It’s still a risky business, I won’t kid you.” He pushed back from the table, wiped his mouth with his napkin, balled it up, and set it beside his plate. So big . His shoulders were so broad, I couldn’t see the back of his chair. “I couldn’t withstand a recession yet, for example. I mean, anything can happen. I’ll be honest—anybody I hired would be taking the same chance I’m taking.”
    Well, I certainly admired his candor. Personally, I would love a job like that, all the riskiness and newness, everything not completely planned out yet. I glanced at Carrie, who was pressing her fingertips together and looking thoughtful.
    “May I be excused, please?”
    Poor Ruth, she was bored to tears. “Of course,” I started to say, “why don’t you and your grandfather go watch TV.” While I start the dishes, and Carrie and Brian have a little private chat—was my thought. But before I could finish, Brian stood up and said he hated to go but he had an early day tomorrow, dinner was wonderful, thanks so much, etc., etc., good-bye.
    People—mostly Birdie; sometimes Carrie—say I have no tact. This is not true. I happen to believe there’s a time for tact and a time for action, and here was a perfect example. Tact was what got this business meeting started, and action would see it through to the end.
    “’Bye, Brian, I’m so glad you could come, it was lovely