Sunrise on Half Moon Bay Read online

  “You are?” Adele asked.

  “Good grief, yes! I needed the help.” She looked at her watch. “Take some time to get comfortable with the computer. People will start coming in soon. I have a few appointments and a couple of meetings. Felicity will be in later—she can conduct some interviews. She’s a social worker.”

  Adele remembered the name. That was the woman she’d spoken to, the one who told her to come in and they’d decide together what she needed. “Is anyone going to interview me?” she asked.

  “Nah, just do your best and ask for help if you need it. Check the appointments first—you’ll want to direct people to the right place.”

  “Okay.”

  Adele opened the notebook, found the password on the first page and got the computer up and running. “I have a question,” she said as Fran was trying to escape into what Addie assumed was her office.

  “That was quick,” she said, pausing in the doorway.

  “What are the people who will be showing up today displaced from?”

  “Any number of things—women who haven’t been in the workforce in years and are suddenly widowed or divorced and just ready to get back to work and find their skills and experience rusty, maybe illness, a family member’s illness, military men and women whose skills don’t match the current job market or who have been displaced since active duty, homeless people trying to get on their feet, maybe drug addicts in recovery, migrants or refugees, anything that took them out of the job market for a while and they need help reconnecting. If you read any of the intake forms, please remember that information is confidential.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Don’t give advice. Leave that to the counselors. Just be friendly, welcoming, ask them if they’ve been here before, if not give them an intake form.”

  “And should I answer the phone?”

  “Of course! Answer Banyon Community College Reentry and Employment Counseling. I’ll answer my own phone or if I can’t, it’ll go to voice mail. If a call comes for me on the general number, my extension is 515. Good?”

  “Good,” Adele said a little weakly.

  Shortly, a few women began to trickle in and timidly approach her desk. Most of them looked the way she felt—scared and nervous and shy.

  “Just fill out this intake form and then one of the counselors can help direct you to the best services,” Adele would say.

  They would invariably tell her what had happened to them.

  “My husband left and I thought he’d come back but here I am. I’ll have to work.”

  “My husband lost his job and can’t find another, so I’m going to have to go back to work.”

  “I was a corporate administrative assistant until my first child came along, and I’ve been a stay-at-home mom, but—”

  Then a woman came in who said, “My husband died and there’s no money and I’m seventy. Do you think I can get a job at my age?”

  Addie was frozen for a moment. Stricken. She’d been worried about her fifty-two-year-old sister, but seventy? People should be retired at seventy. But what if you couldn’t?

  “I’m not a counselor, just a receptionist,” she said. “Go ahead and fill out this intake form and someone will help you.”

  A couple of counselors came in. She met Felicity who looked like she sounded, a slight, very young, freckled redhead. “Yay! Secretarial help!” she said as she greeted Adele.

  Ross, an African American woman of about fifty, was not so chipper, which was somehow more appealing. “I’m Ross,” she said. “I guess you drew the short straw. You getting along all right?”

  “I hope so. It’s so new,” Adele said.

  “Just ask for help if you need it.”

  At one point Fran stuck her head out of her office door and said, “Check your email. I set it up for you.”

  She looked. There was a message for her that said, “Will you please print this out for me? Fran.” So she did, taking it to her. Then the printer displayed a low ink error message. Only slightly terrified of breaking something, Adele opened cupboards and pulled out drawers until she found a box of cartridges, and changed the depleted one. She printed a sample page and actually put a hand to her chest in ecstasy. She’d done it! When she was evaluated later to assess her job skills, she’d make sure to mention this.

  It’s a receptionist job, she reminded herself. I was halfway to my master’s! I may not be too handy with office work, but I’m way overeducated.

  A beautiful woman came into the office. She was dressed to the nines, too. She introduced herself as Carmon Fautz, an engineer. She was looking for work. Her husband, a doctor, had wanted her to stay home to raise their children, and now he was leaving her and she needed a job.

  “But you’re an engineer!” Adele said, forgetting herself.

  “Have you ever heard of the half-life of engineers?” she asked. “The advances are rapid-fire, and a few years out of engineering put me way behind. I’m hoping for some new ideas. And I hope this is the place to find them.”

  “I hope so, too,” Adele said. “Just fill out this intake form...”

  From that point on, Adele greeted the most interesting people. A former minister, cook, factory worker, gym teacher, many office workers and many women who had not worked since high school. There was only one caregiver in the group—she had cared for her mother for three years. There were a couple of women who admitted to being homeless.

  The one thing most of them had in common was having been abandoned by men, either when they died or divorced them. Adele had not thought it so common. But it took her thirty seconds to connect the dots—they were married to the breadwinner and when he died or left, their income was gone.

  A couple of female military veterans came in, not together but separately. It was the same for them—they’d been married to the army and couldn’t find civilian work. Both told Adele they were thinking of reenlisting for that reason, though they couldn’t bear the thought of going back to a war zone.

  In the little time between clients, Adele organized the desk drawers and cleaned up the cupboards in the waiting room. She drank three cups of coffee and did the dishes in the small employee kitchen. When she went for her first cup of coffee, she ran into Ross.

  “I hope you locked your purse in the drawer,” Ross said while stirring cream into her coffee.

  “I didn’t know it could be locked.”

  “The keys are in the center drawer. Lock up your purse and put the keys in your pocket. These people are desperate. I make no judgment, but why tempt fate?”

  “Thank you! I’ll do that.”

  It was Ross who stopped by her desk later and said, “I’m going down to the supermarket deli for a salad. Can I get you anything?”

  Adele had barely noticed that the whole morning had passed. It had been a rush and there were still people waiting. Felicity, Ross and Fran had all been seeing clients continually. Adele had stolen a look at the online appointment calendar to note that the names of the women they saw had filtered into other categories—various workshops, referrals, counseling sessions and the like.

  She grabbed her purse and pulled out a ten. “Any kind of salad will do, no dressing. I’m on a diet.”

  “Will do,” Ross said.

  When Ross was back with their lunch, she offered to sit at Adele’s desk for a while. “Go have your lunch in one of the empty conference rooms or the break room. I’ll spell you for a while.”

  “What about your lunch?”

  “I’ll get mine when you’re finished. Go now. I’m sure you crave a few minutes alone.”

  By midafternoon, Adele felt as though she’d managed that office for years. She was comfortable talking to the clients, responding to her email, doing whatever was requested. And she liked the people. A few more counselors and volunteers came in that afternoon—Jasmine, Car
ol, Marie, Susan and Paulette.

  The office became even busier as people gathered for a couple of workshops. They were doing interview role-playing, critiquing résumés, looking through lists of employment opportunities. A couple of times it crossed Adele’s mind that she had no idea what was coming for her. They might thank her kindly for helping out and tell her that their regular receptionist would be back in the morning. Should that be the case, she would ask if she could avail herself of the services offered in their program. Maybe they could help her get a receptionist or secretary position at Banyon Community College. After all, even though it had been a long time, she knew her way around a campus.

  The women who had attended the workshops seemed so optimistic, so happy and animated. She could see that a little encouragement went a long way.

  She did some typing for Felicity and Ross; she printed out a new workshop schedule that had been scrawled on a yellow pad by Jasmine. Glancing at the schedule online for the next day, she noticed several appointments, counseling sessions, new workshops and a counseling group session for women overcoming abusive relationships. There were also a couple of groups meeting in the evenings on Tuesday and Thursday, and if she was reading the schedule right, they closed for Friday afternoons.

  She found herself wishing to sit in on these different workshops and group sessions. Maybe if they let her come back as a client, she would. Any option they offered her, she would take it.

  It was nearing four in the afternoon when the office began to thin out. And then Fran was standing in her office doorway again.

  “Adele, would you please step into my office?”

  “Of course,” she said. She followed Fran inside and saw that Ross and Felicity were there, as well.

  “Have a seat,” Fran said. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I assumed you were the temp I called. About an hour ago I had a phone call from the agency apologizing for the fact that our temp hadn’t shown up. Apparently she had a sick child and car trouble and a host of problems and didn’t contact the agency to say that she wouldn’t make it that day until after noon.”

  Adele was stunned. Of all the explanations she’d considered, that one had never come up. All she could say was “Oh.”

  “You didn’t say anything,” Fran said.

  She looked at their faces. Ross looked a little angry, but then Ross seemed to look a little mad even when she was happy. Felicity looked confused. “I didn’t know you were mistaken. I thought you were throwing me into a job to see what I could handle. I came here to get advice. On getting a job.”

  “You’re a client?” Fran asked. “You were looking for a reentry program?”

  She nodded.

  “What’s your story? Why have you been out of the workforce?”

  She told them her story and why she had shown up there that morning.

  “What about school?” Ross asked.

  “I have a degree but no teaching certificate. I might be able to get a job in a private school. I haven’t really looked. And I’m not sure my goals are the same... I’d like to say I’m going to change my course of study but the truth is, I’m almost out of money and...and I need to work.”

  “Would you like to come back tomorrow morning as a client? Fill out the intake form and sit with one of our counselors?”

  “That would be very nice of you,” she said.

  “Well then—”

  “Or I could come back and work as your secretary. Until your regular secretary comes back,” she said boldly. “I would love to do that.”

  “Why?” Ross asked with a slight frown.

  “It’s a great job,” Adele said. “I loved meeting the women. I didn’t try to counsel them but I did talk with them. This is a very good place. I liked what I did today.”

  “But—” Fran began.

  “It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time,” Adele said. “I felt needed. I know it was a mistake, but it’s the best mistake I’ve made in years. And if you need someone...”

  “We usually do a background check, interview, check references...” Fran said.

  “I’m not wanted or anything,” Adele said. “I always pay my bills on time and haven’t worked for anyone but my parents for eight years. My sister has always said I couldn’t tell a lie if my life depended on it. Won’t you think about it? I know it was an accident, but I think I did it well.”

  Fran seemed to be thinking this over. “Can you go back to your desk and give us a little time to discuss this?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I think I could do even better tomorrow. Really.”

  Adele sat impatiently at her desk, wishing she could be part of the discussion happening in Fran’s office. She had assumed Ross and Felicity were part of the management of this office; now she was sure.

  She looked at her watch. Four ten. She got her phone out of her purse and turned it on to check her messages. There was only one text. I hope you’re having a great day! Jake. It was four fifty before that door opened again. By now the office waiting area was empty, though there was one group session in progress in the back.

  “Come on in, Adele,” Fran said. “We talked it over. We need someone at that desk, and if you’re willing to work for fifteen dollars an hour, we’d like to give you a try. Our receptionist isn’t coming back, and the woman we hired to replace her didn’t work out. But there’s considerably more to do than those few office chores I gave you today.”

  Adele’s smile was so big she thought her face might crack. “I’m pretty smart,” she said. “And I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “The receptionist has to double as the janitor,” Ross said.

  “My father was a janitor!” Adele shot back.

  “I was kidding, kid. Except for the fact that we all pitch in to make sure the place is tidy. You know—wash your dishes, wipe out the sink, sweep up. You know—if you see a mess, clean up the mess. Right?”

  “Right,” she said. “I have a job?”

  “You have a job. You fell into our laps and we fell into yours. Let’s see if we can make this work. We’ll get your paperwork done in the morning,” Fran said with a smile.

  “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  Maybe my luck is changing! she thought happily.

  * * *

  Adele wanted to tell someone, of course. Not Justine. What would Justine say? She wouldn’t compliment Adele’s cleverness. She’d probably warn her to do extra careful work to keep the job. Not Beverly; Beverly would want to bring her a cake. She texted Jake. Have you eaten yet?

  Not yet.

  Can you come to dinner? Stir-fry? Chicken.

  Love to, what time?

  Seven?

  I’ll be there.

  She hurried home to chop her vegetables and set the table. She checked her makeup to be sure it was fresh, brushed her teeth and reapplied her lipstick. She wasn’t trying to impress Jake so much as look like it wasn’t a total accident they wanted to keep her. Then she decided on a sip of wine as she waited for him, and of course that first sip contradicted her toothpaste and made her pucker. She made the rice and had her chicken and vegetables ready to go. Finally, she heard the doorbell.

  She threw open the door and there he stood, holding flowers. Jake had stopped bringing her food, so intent was she on her new eating program.

  “You will never believe what happened! I have a job!”

  “Well, that was fast.”

  She poured him a glass of wine and told him every detail of how it happened, from beginning to end, while she began to feed the chicken and vegetables into the wok. She explained how she wasn’t sure why she just answered yes when Fran asked if she was there for the job. “I guess I was there to get a job after all.” And she told him all the possibilities she had thought might come to pass, like they might say, Good, now that we know what you can do, let’s look at t
he job openings. “It doesn’t work that way, I guess. But I didn’t know that.” She told him how much she enjoyed talking to the women, finding that they were all so different from her and yet so much the same. “They’ve all been held captive, of their own free will, of course, and yet when set free, they are lost. It didn’t really matter if they were homemakers, moms, caregivers, whatever—suddenly they need work and have nowhere to turn. They all looked better when they were leaving—if not entirely joyous at least relieved. It’s an amazing place, this office, this program.” And in the end, when they explained to her it had all been a misunderstanding, she practically begged for the job. “And it wasn’t because I so need a job. At least not totally. I really wanted to stay there. I wanted to watch what was going to happen next. I don’t have any idea what their success rate is, but some of those women who were feeling so scared and hopeless are going to get work and get on with their lives.”

  “Like you,” he said.

  “Like me!”

  While they ate, she told him about some of the women, not using any names or physical descriptions, of course. But she did describe some of their problems. “Imagine finding yourself broke and in need at the age of seventy! I can’t wait to see how her story turns out. That’s a real wake-up call. It really got me thinking—my mother could have been left with no resources and what would we have done?”

  “Your sister would have stepped up...”

  “My sister. I wonder if she even knows how lucky she is. What Scott has done to her is terrible, but she has a job.”

  “A job you said is in peril,” Jake reminded her.

  “I’d better check in with her tonight. How’s your stir-fry?” she asked.

  Jake put down his fork. “It’s very good. Adele, you look wonderful, you know. I’m sorry if I haven’t said so enough.”

  “I have a long way to go,” she said.

  “You’ll do what you want, but I think you look wonderful. I thought you looked wonderful before.”