Chapter 1: The Interview

Jenny Marie Jenkins was rushing around the house, desperate to get everything into some order before she left. She needed to ace this interview for both her and her husband. Joe was recovering from an auto accident two years ago. His health insurance had run out, their Cobra insurance had expired, and the unemployment payments were barely covering the food and gas.

Joe watched from his wheelchair and wished her good luck as she walked out the door. She threw out the garbage on her way to the car, and then turned the ignition switch of the old 1955 Chevrolet Hardtop. The different colored fenders and trunk made it hard to tell what the original color was, but the two four-barrel carburetors and three-quarter race cam ran it effortlessly down the freeway. Her husband had been restoring it but hadn't finished the bodywork before the accident. His new truck and her four year old SUV had been repossessed, and this was all they had now. It was one of his hobby projects that were an afterthought that he had been able to get running with a few used parts.

She reached up to the visor and put on her mirrored wrap-around sunglasses. She looked up at herself in the mirror and adjusted it as she drove out the driveway. Although her hair was long, the tight spiral perm took quite a bit of the length out of it so that her hair didn't actually go all the way down her back. This hairdo actually looked like what was seen on many black girls about half her age. The pearl necklaces which her husband had bought on their first anniversary helped to accentuate her face and gave her a very sophisticated appeal.

Jenny had only a high-school education, and had spent most of those years taking singing, ballet and interpretive dance, and had not worked while the children were in school. Joe's job was more than enough for all the bills until the car accident. With the savings gone, the kids dropped out of college. Jenn needed this job.

She parked her car at the far end of the parking lot and walked across it rather than risk anyone seeing the odd-colored car. If you are what you drive, you would not have expected this woman to come out of that car. She was a spectacular 41-year old woman with long reddish-brown hair flowing down her back to her waist. Although most people think that 41-year old women are way past their prime, she was about the same age as Demi Moore, and Nicole Kidman. She was younger than one of the women who had qualified for the Olympics in the 25-yard freestyle and just as spectacular looking as any of them.

Any of the older people who knew her would say she got her looks from her mother, who at 57 was looked good for them to pass as sisters. Her mother had never made it out of high-school. Growing up in the top-soil poor farms of central Kansas, she had started having children early. In those days it was common for young girls it seemed common for them to drop out of school early and start a family. Her mother, Ginny had her first child with a tall, rugged farm hand who lived about a section away. He had died early from a tractor accident, and Ginny worked as a secretary at the elevator in the unincorporated city of Techumseh. Ginny was a self-taught singer, piano player, and seamstress, who spent each Thursday with the other farm wives quilting. Jenny visited her as much as she could, but with no income, she could not afford the two-hour drive, and was also not able to supplement her mother's income.

Jenny's grey silk dress fit like a glove. The hem stopped just high enough to keep from tripping, but with the buttons undone to the next button above her knees, one could see most of her legs above her knee-high grey Prada boots that were exposed by her brisk stride. Her legs tapered back in just above her knees, which made it obvious to anyone with an athletic background that this had been a very athletic woman in her younger years. The top part of her grey dress changed color to an off-white just below her breasts, and the loose top two buttons accented her five-five frame, hardened by a sun-tanned body that could still run three miles in nineteen minutes.

She took off her sunglasses and replaced them with her wire rimmed glasses; held her leather purse in her right hand while pushing open the door of the small marketing firm with the other.

Sam Cromwell greeted her at the door, as he had no secretary, which was the position for which she was interviewing.

As she walked in, the reception desk faced the main visitors seating area. Directly behind the desk, was a large glass enclosed meeting room with a small passage way around each to get to Sam's elegant private office in back. They introduced each other and sat down in Sam's office. Sam hair tingled as he looked at her. She seemed to be a dead ringer for Danica Patrick, except she was a little taller and thinner. Her shy forced smile was enchanting. Jenn had little experience, but knew Excel, Microsoft Word, and Dream Weaver and was good with people.