Jillian Lockland wondered for two days if she should answer the newspaper ad for a mature individual looking for a unique career, but she was getting desperate. Her ex-husband, Roman Lockland, a shrewd businessman, left her almost destitute after the divorce. She had to find a better job than working in the boutique her friend Fran Palmer owned. Though Fran gave her as many hours as she could, this minimum wage, part-time job wasn’t bringing in enough to meet her bills, much less keep up the payments to the rest home where her aunt was lingering with Alzheimer’s. Jillian had maxed out her credit cards and was getting deeper into debt every day. She wondered if the smart thing to do was to go back to school and renew her teaching certificate, but being practical, she knew that was impossible at this stage. She’d been out of the profession for almost twenty years—the eighteen years she’d been married to Roman and the two she’d been divorced. Realistically, she knew if she went back to school now she’d be on the street or living in her car in a few months. It would take at least a year if not longer to get the classes required to renew her certificate.
That’s why the strange ad jumped at her from the Sunday newspaper. When she read it a second time, she became more intrigued, but decided right away it probably wouldn’t be anything she’d be qualified for. Yet, she picked up the paper and read it again and again.
Unique Position for Mature Applicants
No experience necessary.
Must be willing to relocate.
Generous Salary.
Minimum Requirement: BA or higher in any field of study.
Must fill position immediately
She still probably wouldn’t have considered answering the ad if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Miller. The woman was a good customer at the boutique, but she expected royal treatment, and on Tuesday she demanded it from Jillian. She came in near closing time and wanted to exchange the expensive purchase she’d made a month earlier. Jillian tried to tell her how lovely the dress looked on her, but she wouldn’t hear it. She wanted to exchange it. There was nothing Jillian could do, but take the dress back, though she knew the old lady was lying about not having worn it.
When she finally was able to leave the store, twenty minutes late, Jillian stayed upset all the way home. She grabbed a glass of iced tea from the refrigerator and took a seat at the small second hand dinette table in the corner. Trying to calm herself, she picked up the paper and read the ad again. As all the other readings, the first line grabbed her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted anything unique in her life right now. She’d gone through a divorce. That was probably all the unique she needed.
But the no “experience necessary” line really hit home. Roman hadn’t wanted her to work when they were married so she gave up her teaching job and settled in to become a nice quiet housewife. “And look, where it got me,” she mumbled as she continued to read.
She liked the idea of relocating. She had nothing to keep her in Greensboro. She had no children and in the two years since the divorce most of her so called friends had drifted to Roman and his new wife. Fran was the only one who seemed to care and she was busy with her own family. That left only Aunt Estelle and the poor woman hadn’t known herself, much less her niece, for a long time.
“Generous salary” would be wonderful. She needed money. Life was hard and getting harder every day. As far as the BA degree was concerned, hers was in education, but it said it could be in anything.
And the “must be filled immediately” line sounded good. If she could get a good paying job, maybe she’d be able to get out of debt before she reached the age of eighty.
The confrontation with Mrs. Miller and this last reading of the ad pushed Jillian over the edge. Without debating the decision, she took one of her typed resumes from the drawer in the table and headed out the door. She drove two blocks to the office supply store and faxed it to the number listed under the ad. The minute it was gone, she wished she hadn’t sent it, but it was too late now. On the way home she hoped it got lost somewhere in the cosmos so she’d never hear from them.
* * * *
The next day Jillian received a phone call. The man was pleasant and professional. She answered a few non-personal questions and was then asked to come in for a personal interview. When she explained she had to work the next morning, they made the appointment for the afternoon and gave her a number to present to the interviewer on her arrival.
Now here she was, on her way to some crazy interview at a downtown hotel for a job she had no idea about. At least the caller told her the interview was to take place in one of the small conference rooms off the main lobby. Had it been in one of the bedrooms, she knew she would’ve hung up on the man and forgotten the whole thing.
As she drove through town, she pondered the same questions she’d been asking since her divorce. Why didn’t she listen to Fran when advised to get her own lawyer when Roman told her they’d use the same one because it would cost less? Why did she trust Roman to do the right thing by her? Fran had warned that just because she’d been married to him all those years it didn’t mean Roman felt any obligation toward her. But she didn’t think anyone knew him as well as she did.
It didn’t take her long to see how wrong she was. Not only was he not fair in the settlement, he was downright mean and greedy. He made her shoulder half the bills of his now defunct real estate investment firm. She didn’t fight it because she felt sorry Roman was losing his business. This prompted her to let him talk her into settling for an alimony check that would barely pay her rent, much less give her money to live on. Only after the decree was signed and recorded did she learn he used the dying company as a tax write off and was making more money than ever from his thriving psychological counseling practice. A year ago she decided to see if she could sue him and at least get enough money to live decently. She called an attorney about it, but he told her it was best to drop the idea since she’d signed the papers and it had been a done deal for over a year.
Jillian shook her head to get rid of thoughts of Roman. She tried to concentrate on how she should act at this strange interview.
Dressed in white slacks, an olive green cashmere summer sweater, and wearing gold jewelry accents, she hoped she looked appropriate. Most of the women sitting in the lobby of the hotel were younger than her and dressed in business suits or dresses. Only one other woman had on slacks. Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now, went through her mind as she approached the table set up outside the conference room door.
She presented her number and the young man said, “Thank you, Ms. Lockland. If you’ll have a seat, we’ll get to you shortly.” She felt the man’s eyes follow her to a chair against the wall.
Jillian studied the crowd. She couldn’t help wondering why there were no men here for interviews. She knew companies weren’t allowed to discriminate.
A pretty blonde, probably in her thirties and probably wearing a size four dress, came out the door and handed a paper to the man at the table. He smiled and nodded to her.
The man then called a name and the only other applicant as old as Jillian, but somewhat skinnier, went to the door. She was probably a size eight, compared to Jillian’s size twelve, but Jillian didn’t have time to contemplate sizes with the woman because she came out in less than ten minutes.
The next person called was a raven-haired beauty in a short black skirt and a thin floral blouse. Jillian was almost sure she didn’t stay behind the closed doors as long as the older woman did. She hadn’t looked at her watch because she expected the woman to be in there a long time.
“Jillian Lockland,” the man at the table said and she got up. “They’re ready to interview you now.”
She smiled and nodded at him as she turned to enter the interview room. Two men were seated behind a table with a chair sitting in front of it. They both stood as she entered. One was taller than the other, and to her way of thinking, much better looking. Oh, my lord. Did I look at his crotch? I hope he didn’t notice. She swallowed, but couldn’t control the blush.
I guess I’ve blown it already. She forced a smile and tried to concentrate on what to do to overcome her blunder and make a good impression. She knew the first thing was to rein in her thoughts about how the tall one was affecting her. She hadn’t felt her underwear get damp in a long time, but she knew this had nothing to do with a job interview, and forced it out of her mind. If she was lucky she could be out of here in a few minutes.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Lockland,” the shorter man said.
She sat in the chair facing them and put her purse on the floor beside her. She wanted to cross her legs, but she’d heard somewhere that one should only cross their ankles in a situation like this. She crossed her ankles and gave them a hesitant smile.
“I see there was a long stretch from your job as a teacher many years ago and your employment now in a dress shop,” the tall man said as he half-smiled at her.
“I only taught for a year after collage and then married. My husband didn’t want me to work. He insisted I take care of the home. I liked being a housewife, so I resigned my teaching position and didn’t go back to work until my divorce two years ago.”
“I see you put down your employer, Fran Palmer, as the person to contact in case of an emergency. Do you not have any closer relatives? Children, maybe?” the shorter man asked.
“No. My only living relative is an aunt. She’s in a rest home and I was never fortunate enough to have children.” She didn’t add that having a child had been one of the goals in life she was never able to accomplish. Neither did she add that it was her fault or that her ex-husband never failed to remind her of the fact she could never give him sons. A fact his new fifteen-years-younger wife accomplished in less than a year. He was now the father of two children. A girl and a boy.
The tall one spoke again. “I’m sorry we didn’t introduce ourselves right away, Ms. Lockland, but I’m Quinton Kincade and this is John Von Cannon.” Before she could answer, he went on. “I’d like to tell you right off that this job is a top secret one and only Mr. Von Cannon and I are aware of what it entails. The gentleman out front is a temp we hired to show the applicants in and is in no way connected with this job.”
She wondered at this, but didn’t have time to ask, because Mr. Von Cannon took over the explanation. “We’re looking for a person who has certain specific qualifications and though we’ve done a thorough background check on you, we may have to ask you some rather personal questions.”
“To this point,” the tall one added, “we find you’re one of the top contenders for this position.”
“Something for the government?” She eyed them. They must have connections to do a background check since she only sent the resume two days ago.
He smiled at her and she noticed his even white teeth. “At this point we can’t go into detail, but rest assured, if we choose you for the job, you’ll be given all the information you need to understand it thoroughly before you’re asked to take it.”
“Thank you.” She returned his smile.
The interview went on for almost forty-five minutes during which time she saw the men scribble on a legal pad and pass notes to each other. It might not have been obvious to anyone else, but a school teacher is trained to notice when people pass information.
Finally, John glanced at Quinton. “Do you have any more questions for Ms. Lockland, Mr. Kincade?”
“Not at this time.” He stood and held his hand toward her. “As I said earlier, you’re highly qualified for this job, Ms. Lockland. If we call you, I hope you’ll consent to a second interview.”
His large hand felt good around hers. She hoped the shiver that went through her was invisible to everyone. She mumbled that she would be interested in coming back, pulled her hand from his and thanked them both.
“If we want to talk again, we’ll call you to set it up. We’ll probably know by tomorrow,” Quinton said.
John Von Cannon scribbled something on a note pad, folded it and handed it to her. “Please give this to the man outside. We’ll be in touch to let you know, one way or the other.”
* * * *
As soon as the door closed, Quinton said, “Though she’s a little larger than the women I usually go for, I think she’s the one, John.”
“Didn’t you say that about the two you picked out earlier today?”
“No. If you recall, I said I thought they could be the one. I think this one has them both beat.” He chuckled. “Ms. Lockland even looked at my crotch when she came in, then got flustered about it. I liked that.”
“Damn, man. How do you know she looked at your jewels?”
“I watched her closely to see if she showed any interest in me. It was a good sign that she did.”
“Did she look at my crotch?”
“Sorry, old fellow. Not a glance.”
“Well even if she wasn’t interested in my package, I have to admit, for her age, she looks the best of the three.” John chuckled. “As I said in the note she had a nice pair of boobs on her and I know that’s important to you.”
“From your note, I know you were impressed by them. Of course I don’t know any man who wouldn’t be impressed by hers, my friend.” Quinton gave him a sly grin.
“I guess you’re right there.” He grinned back. “Seriously, I have to admit she has all the qualifications your father demanded in your future wife, and if she’s showing a slight interest in you, that’ll give you a running start.”
“Damn, that word ‘wife’ scares the hell out of me, but you’re right she does seem to have it all.” Quinton looked down at the notes on the legal pad and laughed when he read again where John had written: Nice knockers. Wouldn’t mind getting my hands on them myself.
Under it Quinton had written: If I choose her, I’ll let you know if they’re real.
John had added under that: When you dump her, send her my way and I’ll see for myself.
Quinton tore off the sheet with the notes, moved across the room to the paper shredder and slipped the page inside. “John, why in hell did you let my father write this stupid will?”
“I told you Les Conaway wrote it. You know he’s retired now, but he and your dad were always good friends. I have no idea when your old man told him the only way he was turning over the company to you was if you were married and settled within four months of his death. And married to a woman who fit the qualifications he laid down.”
“If he’d only left it that I had to be married, I could have found a woman of my choosing.”
“I know. I guess he couldn’t stand the thoughts of somebody like Eloise or your new toy, Maddie, taking over as the woman of the house, or should I say mansion?”
“That was never a question. You know Maddie isn’t the kind of woman a man marries.” Quinton sat back in his chair. “You’re right about one thing. It looks like Jillian Lockland has everything he demanded for my wife. She’s forty years old, attractive enough even with the few extra pounds, and she has a spotless reputation.”
John added, “Her divorce wasn’t her fault and her husband really screwed her over. I don’t think a woman should get everything a man has worked for, but he should be fair.”
Quinton nodded. “And other than her boobs, the most interesting thing about Mrs. Lockland is that she taught Sunday school when she quit teaching in the public school system. Can you believe I could end up with a Sunday school teacher?”
John laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard seeing you with a woman like that. When was the last time you were in church before your father died?”
“I guess it was when my daughter, Pamela, got married last year. Before that, it’d been years. Probably when my mother died.”
“Well, what about volunteering in the soup kitchen? Do you think her doing that occasionally qualifies for the fact that your dad said the woman had to be involved with a charity?”
“I don’t see why not, and if she wants to continue to volunteer, I don’t have a problem with it. I’ll have some free time to visit my female friends.”
“You cad.”
“If you feel that way, I’ll send her charity a check. Maybe that’ll ease your conscious.”
“Looks like you’ve made up your mind, Quinton. Now all you have to do is convince this woman to marry you.”
“I’m not worried about that. I can be charming, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, I’ll go ahead and meet with the other two in the morning.”
“So you want to send the rest of those waiting outside away?”
“No. We’ll give them the courtesy of speaking with them. Who knows, there might be a fourth one with a bra size that you approve of. If not, tomorrow I plan to have a meal with each of the three I’ve selected. You can get the feel of a woman and her demeanor over a meal. I think I’ll have dinner with Ms. Lockland. Maybe she’ll wear a cocktail dress with a neckline that’ll give me a better idea of what those boobs will look like in my bed.”
John laughed. “I believe you’re beginning to look forward to this.”
Quinton shrugged. “Never hurts to play your options.”
“What are you going to do if you fall madly in love with the woman?”
“Fat chance of that. Remember, I’ve got Maddie waiting for me any time I want her.”
“You didn’t tell Maddie why you couldn’t marry her, did you?”
“I told her I’d never marry her.”
John laughed. “I bet she took that well.”
“She did later, but it cost me a diamond bracelet.”
“Do you think when Ms. Lockland becomes your wife, she’ll put up with you having a mistress?”
He shrugged again. “Who says she has to know? I’m sure I can get out of the house at least a couple of times a week. I’ll let the wife serve at the soup kitchen those nights.”
“Man, you’ve got balls.”
“That’s what Maddie tells me.” He chuckled. “Let’s get on with this. Talking about all these body parts is getting me stirred up.”
“Me, too. Let’s bring some more of the ladies in and check out their bust lines.” John walked to the door to let the man outside know they were through with the break he’d requested on the note he sent by Jillian and were ready to do the next interview.
“You keep talking like that I might have to find somebody in this town to keep me company tonight.”
“I think I can handle that for you, if you need me to.”
“Thanks, John. No wonder I keep you as my lawyer.”