Page 81 of Going Deep
“Half,” Ginger insisted, and sighed with relief when the server appeared with her cheeseburger. “Oh, thank God. I’m starving.”
Anna waited until meals had been distributed and the server had left, then picked up her fork and dug into her pasta. “Can I ask a question?”
Since Ginger already had a mouthful of cheeseburger, she just waved a hand.
“When all this comes out—you knowing Michael’s a Killingsworth, him wrangling the job interview for you, you being half in love with him—and I call bullshit on the half part—can I be there to watch?”
“Me too, me too!” Lola said eagerly, waving her hand in the air.
Since her mouth was full, Ginger just shot her friends the middle finger and kept eating.
The interview the following morning started out pretty much the way Ginger had expected. It didn’t end that way.
She knew from her research that Miriam Glass was in her mid-fifties, but the only evidence of it was the streak of silver in her otherwise black hair. She had smooth brown skin, a wide, welcoming smile, and thickly lashed brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence.
She wore a dress of sunshine yellow, fitted and sleeveless, showing off strong arms and a curvy figure. Her high-heeled sandals matched the dress, and the toes peeking out were the same in-your-face red as her lips.
“It’s a pleasure you meet you, Ginger,” she said warmly, those brown eyes blatantly assessing. “Thank you for coming.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Ginger said, struggling for calm as they shook hands. “I’m sure you’re very busy, so I appreciate you taking the time for me.”
“It’s no trouble,” Miriam said easily, and stepped back. “I thought we’d begin with a tour of the Center, if that’s all right with you.”
“I’d like that,” Ginger said, and hoped it would give her a chance to steady.
It didn’t.
The more they walked, and the more Miriam talked—about the Center and how it worked, and about the new educational initiatives they hoped to implement—the more despondent Ginger became. Because she really wanted to work there, but it was painfully obvious to her that she was not the right person for this job.
At the end of the tour, when they were back in the main lobby, Miriam turned to her with a smile. “Do you have any questions before we go into my office?”
Ginger took a deep breath. “I do have one, yes. Why did you ask me to interview for this position?”
One delicately arched eyebrow rose. “I’m sorry?”
“I apologize for being blunt, Ms. Glass?—”
“Please, call me Miriam.”
“Miriam,” Ginger repeated. “But this job, the Director of…”
“Supplemental Education,” Miriam supplied.
“I’m not qualified for it,” Ginger said, “and we both know it. So why am I here?”
Miriam was quiet for a moment, then she nodded once. “I think you probably know the answer to that.”
“I think I do,” Ginger said, disappointment a sick weight in her belly. “And I’m very sorry to have wasted your time.”
Miriam ignored the hand Ginger held out. “I’m curious, Ginger. If you knew you weren’t qualified, why did you come?”
Ginger let her hand fall back to her side. “Because I like what you’re doing here, and I’d like to be a part of it. And,” she added wryly, “I need a job.”
Miriam nodded. “I see.”
“But I won’t take one I can’t do,” she went on.
Miriam tilted her head slightly, a martial light coming into her deep brown eyes. “I wouldn’t offer you one you couldn’t do.”
