Page 7 of Help Wanted

“My black skirt and my—”

“No.” Vanessa shook her head.

“What? I look good in that skirt.”

“This is a marina. They’re not going to want someone who looks like a supermodel.”

“I don’t look that good in that skirt.”

“You know what I mean. You need to look professional, yet dependable and efficient and not too stuffy.”

“So… my pajamas with my hair pulled up in a twist and a watch?”

“Black slacks, sturdy shoes, and a tailored shirt. Pull your hair back in a ponytail.”

“Do you have a feeling about this?” Kenley asked.

“No. I just looked it up on my iPad.” She held it up.

* * *

The next day, after outfitting herself exactly as Vanessa ordered, and spinning in numerous circles so her friend could approve, Kenley parked in front of the building that housed New Haven Custom Boats, also known as her future. She was planning on charming the bejesus out of whomever she needed to in order to get this job.

As she walked to the door she could almost hear the choir of angels singing a harmonic “Ahhhhhh.” And did a beam of sunlight just come down to illuminate the door? Maybe.

She opened the door and stood, stunned, in the room.

The lobby, which also housed the receptionist area, was not tiny, but it seemed so with the amount of large, tropical plants taking up the area, giving the room a rainforest appeal.

“Hello?” someone yelled from the hall—a woman.

“Hi. I’m Kenley Carmichael. I have a one o’clock interview with Sidney. I’m a little early.” Twenty minutes, according to the watch she’d decided to wear.

“I’m Sidney,” the very round woman said as she wiped her lips with a napkin. Kenley assumed she was pregnant, but knew better than to say anything until it was confirmed. It was quite an embarrassing lesson to learn.

“It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. I could just sit and wait until you’re finished.” Sitting was going to be an issue since every square inch of horizontal space was covered in foliage.

“Come on back to my other office. We also call it the lunchroom. Now that I’m eating for two I spend more time there than my desk.” She rubbed her large belly affectionately. Kenley smiled, having guessed correctly. This time.

“Have a seat,” Sidney gestured to a table. There were file folders everywhere and on the edge of the table sat a salad and a giant hamburger. “My husband is an OB-GYN so he insists I eat right. The salad is me keeping up my end of the deal. The burger is none of his concern.”

Kenley laughed and made a gesture of zipping her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder.

“So the job consists mostly of office work. Paying our suppliers and sending out customer statements. My brother handles customer invoicing himself. You may have noticed the large building out back. It’s a covered slip for working on boats here. We service local boats. But our main focus is restoration. Depending on the size of the boat and the location, it’s not always possible to bring the boat here to restore, so the team works on it offsite. Occasionally only the motor is shipped in or other pieces of the craft.”

Kenley nodded.

“We have a small team that stays onsite to handle local calls and repairs. And three other guys make up the restoration team. I keep their schedules straight and make sure everyone gets paid. Sometimes I go out to a job to help with insurance work or quotes if the others are tied up.”

“I wouldn’t mind traveling.”

“Okay, Kendra, tell me a little about yourself.” Oh no. Should she correct her for saying her name wrong? Would it matter? Probably.

“Actually, it’s Kenley. I know it’s a weird name. I was adopted. My parents decided to keep my given name.” She winced, not meaning to use the orphan card to get a job. She was nervous and it made her babble.

Sidney burst into tears, and Kenley cursed herself for correcting her.

“I’m so sorry. You know what? You can call me anything you want. Kendra is fine. I like the name Kendra, love it even. Please don’t cry.”