“I don’t think he’d be interested in someone like me,” Sierra said, positive she lacked the qualifications to work for a man like Ron Peirozo.
“Nonsense. He’s looking for someone to handle office details. I’ll call him. If the position’s still open, I’ll let you know, and you can see about making an appointment with him for an interview.”
“I don’t know, Marcia.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You have to take control of your life.”
Sierra did her grocery shopping and picked up two of Alex’s suits at the cleaners. On the way home, she stopped by the post office for more stamps. She’d put the last one on a card to her mother this morning.
The telephone was ringing as she came into the kitchen from the garage. She laid the suits over the counter, deposited a bag of groceries beside it, and made a lunge for the telephone as it rang again. “Hello,” she said breathlessly, dumping her purse and keys on the counter.
“Sierra? Sierra Madrid?”
“Yes,” she said, frowning slightly. The man’s voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Speaking.”
“This is Ron Peirozo. Marcia said you might be interested in a job.”
She felt her face go hot. “Yes,” she said simply, heart thumping nervously. “I thought I should do something more important than play tennis and drink iced tea at the club.”
He laughed. “Still beating Marcia?”
She relaxed slightly. “Once in a while, when her guard’s down.”
“Would it be convenient for you to come in tomorrow morning for an interview?”
“That would be fine. What time?”
“Nine, unless that’s too early at such short notice.”
“Nine is perfect.”
“I’ll outline the position for you. Once I’ve done that, you may have second thoughts about working for me.”
“I doubt that, Mr. Peirozo, but you may have second thoughts. How much did Marcia tell you?”
“Just that you were looking for a job.”
“I went to business college but didn’t finish. Basically, I’ve been a wife and mother. That’s it.”
He chuckled. “Seems to me that’s a pretty big responsibility.”
“I thought so,” she said dryly. “Some people wouldn’t agree.”
“All right,” he said slowly, mulling over her remark. “Are you willing to work hard?”
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to learn?”
“Yes.”
“Will you take directions?”
“Yes.”
“Can you type?”
“Yes.”
“Shorthand?”
“Some.”
“You’ve got the qualifications. I’ll see you at nine.”
Alex called at six that evening. “I’m going to be late.” Big surprise. Dinner was already on the table and the children were eating. “Steve and I are going over the new promo stuff,” he went on when she didn’t say anything.
“Do you want me to keep your dinner in the oven?” she said, proud of how calm she sounded.
“No, thanks. We’ll order something in.”
At ten thirty she gave up waiting for him and went to bed. She awakened at one in the morning when she heard the garage door open. She had left the bathroom light on so he could find his way around the room.
“Did you and Steve get everything done?” she said groggily, watching him go into the walk-in closet to take off his clothes.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he tossed it over a chair and headed into the master bathroom. She heard him turn on the shower. The glass door snapped closed. He let the water run so long, she fell asleep again and didn’t awaken until the alarm went off at five thirty.
“Didn’t you reset the alarm?” she said sleepily.
“I’m getting up.”
She brushed some hair back from her face. “You worked until one o’clock in the morning, Alex. Is Steve turning into a slave driver?”
He sat up and raked his hands back through his hair. “Steve’ll be in the office by six thirty,” he said, his back to her.
She sensed something was wrong. Was it the fight they’d had yesterday? She’d had time to think things over and cool down. She reached out to touch him, but before she could, he got up and left the bedroom. Pushing the comforter back, she got out of bed, pulled on her robe, and followed. She found him in the kitchen, watching the stream of coffee filling the carafe. She knew he was aware of her standing there, but he didn’t look at her. He pulled the carafe out and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“What’s wrong, Alex?”
“Nothing,” he said, a muscle clenching in his jaw.
“If it’s the bills, I—”
“Look. I’m tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“You’re still angry with me. You still think it’s my fault.”
He winced. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sierra.”
She could feel him building the wall between them. “You don’t want to talk about anything, do you?”
He looked at her, his eyes brooding. “Not now.”
“Fine. Maybe this will please you. I have a job interview this morning. You could wish me luck.” She turned around and headed for the bedroom before he could see the tears in her eyes.
Alex swore and slammed his cup of coffee down. “I told you not to get a job!”
She slammed the bedroom door. Dragging in her breath, she clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time. What was happening to them? They couldn’t say two sentences to one another without getting into another fight.
Alex came into the bedroom, looking upset. “You don’t have to go to work. We’ll just cut back on spending until we catch up. I want you to stay home.”
“Why? So you have a convenient scapegoat? You told me the bills are my fault, Alex. You said I spend too much on clothes. You told me when I’m not spending all your money at the club with my bourgeois friends, I’m sitting around watching soap operas, reading romances, and feeling sorry for myself!” She could hardly see through the sheen of hot tears.
“I was mad, Sierra. I said a lot of things. So did you!”
“I’m sick of being made to feel I’m on the dole! You think I don’t do anything around here. Well, you’re not around to see what I do! The only thing that matters to you anymore is how much money a person makes. And I don’t make any, do I, Alex? So that makes me less than nothing in your eyes.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t say that.”
“You say it every day in a hundred ways.” Her voice cracked. When he took a step toward her, she took two back. “You were so worried about what Steve might think if your wife had to get a job. Well, if I am lucky enough to get this job, you can tell him I work for a charity organization. Maybe he’ll think I’m volunteering.” She went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Paradoxically, she hoped he’d knock and tell her to come out so they could talk. She hoped he’d say he was sorry for blaming her for their financial problems and admit that some of them were of his own making.
He did neither.
“We’ll talk it over later,” he said flatly. She heard the doors to the walk-in closet open and knew he was getting dressed to go to work.
Sierra sat down on the commode lid and wept silently.
“I’ll call you later,” Alex said.
It sounded like another empty promise.
When she had no more tears, she took a long shower and decided what to wear for her job interview with Ronal Peirozo. Suddenly, getting that job mattered more than anything.
Clanton and Carolyn said little over breakfast. Sierra knew they were aware something was wrong, and they didn’t want to know what it was. She tried to be reassuring, but tears were too close to the surface, anger just beneath it.
She pulled into the gates of the
private school, kissed each of them good-bye, and said she’d see them later.
Half an hour later, she walked through the front door of L.A. Outreach. It was precisely nine o’clock by her watch. A middle-aged lady in a flowered dress sat at the reception desk. Still speaking on the telephone, she glanced up and smiled warmly. As she put the phone back in its cradle, she said brightly, “Good morning! My, what a lovely suit.”
“Thank you,” Sierra said, put somewhat at ease by the lady’s warmth. She had chosen an expensive golden-brown suit and cream silk blouse. On the lapel, she’d pinned a gold brooch of three children holding hands. “My name is Sierra Madrid. I have an appointment with Mr. Peirozo.”
“Yes. We’ve been expecting you.” She rose and extended her hand. “My name is Arlene Whiting. I’ll show you the way, Mrs. Madrid.” She led Sierra down a corridor and tapped on a door. As she opened it, Sierra saw a much-younger woman, obviously pregnant, rise from the chair in front of Ron Peirozo’s desk. She smiled warmly.
Sierra immediately felt overdressed. Judy was in a simple cotton maternity dress.
Ron was wearing Levi’s, a lightweight pale pullover sweater, and a navy-blue sport coat.
“Ron, this is Sierra Madrid,” Arlene said, ushering her in. “Sierra, this is Ron Peirozo and his secretary, Judy Franklin.” Brief pleasantries were exchanged, and the two women went out, leaving her alone with Ron.
“Right on time,” he said, grinning. “I like that. Please sit down.”
“Thank you,” she said and took the seat Judy had just vacated. She crossed her legs carefully and folded her hands in her lap, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
“Let me tell you a little about Outreach to start off,” Ron said. He spent the next half hour explaining the mission of the organization he had founded less than five years before. The primary goal of Outreach was to place homeless children in safe housing and encourage them to become responsible, productive citizens in the community. Ron raised money and dispensed it to shelters and foster families. Equally important, he maintained a list of professional counselors who volunteered a portion of their time as arbitrators between parents and runaways.
“We want to restore these children to their families whenever possible. Sometimes that takes time. Sometimes they need protection.”
He also maintained an extensive list of agencies and services available to families in trouble. Many of the children who came in contact with L.A. Outreach were referred to drug rehabilitation programs, medical treatment, and counseling for incest, physical and emotional abuse, and any number of other serious problems.
Several major denominational churches were involved in the program, supplying volunteer tutors.
“We’ve had good luck. Twenty children passed high school equivalency exams last year. Four times that many have returned to grade schools and high schools throughout the county. Six started college in September. Twelve are in trade schools. Twenty-seven got jobs this year. The numbers aren’t big, I know, but every case is important.”
Each child who entered the Outreach program was required to spend two hours a day, Monday through Friday, in community service. “They groan about it in the beginning, but they cooperate. After a while, they learn that helping others makes them feel better about themselves. That’s when the incentive changes and things get exciting.”
His eyes glowed as he spoke. There was no doubt about his love for his work or for the children he hoped to help.
“The churches are instrumental in helping us with this part of the program. These kids aren’t picking up trash along a road somewhere. They’re mowing lawns for the elderly, helping at day care centers, serving meals to shut-ins, assisting at convalescent hospitals, any number of things that bring them into contact with people in the community.” He grinned. “You’ll hear people talking about ‘going AWOL.’ Don’t let it throw you. It means they’re going on ‘a work of love.’”
“Do the children come here in order to get into the program?”
“Not very often. Unfortunately. Frankly, finding these kids was one of our main problems in the beginning. I used to go downtown with a friend of mine and talk to the kids we found living on the streets. Some of them didn’t have any reason to trust an adult, let alone listen to one. It’s getting easier the longer we’re around. We’ve employed six kids who’ve come through the program to go back on the streets and spread the word we’re here and ready to offer help to those who want it. Kids listen better to kids.”
Ron leaned forward, his blue eyes filled with warm intensity and passion for what he was doing.
“The whole idea of the program is to get as broad a base of community people involved with these children as possible,” he said. “At the same time, we try to keep a low profile. I want people sincere in their concern, not people out to get plaudits. It’s one-on-one. Personal. We don’t send out mass mailers asking for donations. We don’t do radio or television spots. We don’t have celebrities heading up committees or movie stars acting as spokesmen. We don’t give out plaques or public congratulations. And we don’t go door-to-door asking for donations.”
“How do you raise money to fund all this?”
“Fund-raisers. Word of mouth mostly. Some of my friends helped me in the beginning. I speak to different congregations and community groups. People spread the word. We don’t always meet our budget, but God always sees we have enough money to meet our needs.”
Ron Peirozo mentioned God as easily as her mother did, as though the Almighty was personally involved in his life and work. She felt herself relaxing even more.
He leaned back slowly and smiled at her. “You finally unclenched your hands.”
Sierra blushed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“I notice a lot of things,” he said cryptically, studying her.
“You haven’t said what the job I’m applying for would entail.”
“Simple,” he said, all business again. “You’d assist me in everything I do.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot more to it than that, Mr. Peirozo.”
“Call me Ron. I intend to call you Sierra. We’re not formal around here.”
She could feel herself growing excited as he talked. He had important work to do, and he wanted her to help. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so good. She knew she would like working for Ron Peirozo. If he hired her.
“I haven’t much in the way of qualifications,” she said frankly, wanting to get to the bottom line. Maybe it would hurt less if she got the whole thing over.
He smiled, his eyes warming. “I thought we already settled that. You can type.”
“Ninety words a minute.”
“And take shorthand.”
“Yes, but it’s been ten years since I used it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I dictate most of my letters while I’m trapped in five o’clock traffic. You’ll find a recorder on your desk each morning.”
He talked as though he’d already given her the job.
Ron picked up a pencil and tapped it lightly. He had strong, nicely shaped hands. Sierra noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“The pay isn’t great. You’ll start at fourteen hundred a month.”
Enough to pay last month’s country club bill, she thought, though she doubted Alex would appreciate the gesture. “Then I have the job?”
“If you want it.”
She laughed. “When can I start?”
He grinned. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow will be fine,” she said, relieved and elated. “Nine?”
“Nine it is.” Ron stood as she did.
“Thank you,” she said, extending her hand as Ron came around his desk. He enclosed her hand firmly but didn’t linger as he had the first time they’d met at the club. “I appreciate the opportunity you’re giving me, Ron. I hope I won’t disappoint you.”
“You won’t,” he said with such certainty, she felt bolstered.
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She spent a few minutes talking with Judy and Arlene. Both seemed genuinely delighted that she was coming to work for Outreach. “Ron is a terrific boss,” Judy said.
As Sierra walked out to her BMW, she realized what it was she liked so much about Ron Peirozo. He made her feel like an attractive woman. Not only that, he made her feel worthwhile, intelligent, and capable.
She hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time.
James Farr is in Galena.
I saw him in the mercantile today and almost fainted. Aunt Martha had sent me for some white ribbon. Thomas accompanied me and Joshua. He likes to stroll through town with me on his arm. Or so he says. We went into Coopers and he took Joshua to the counter to buy a stick of candy. I was looking at some new bolts of cloth.
And then there was James, standing in the doorway. My heart beat so fast. He must have felt me staring at him, for he looked around and saw me. He smiled. He has never smiled at me like that before. He came to say hello. I could not draw breath when he did. Thomas saw him and came over to stand beside me. When he picked up Joshua and handed him to me, James tipped his hat to both of us and left the store.
I dont think he even knows who I was.
James came by the house today. Aunt Martha was not home. She had gone to market with Betsy. Clovis drove them. So it was I who opened the door to him. Joshua went right out to him as if James were an old friend of the family. James laughed and picked him up. I didn’t know you the other day in the mercantile, he said. Little Mary Kathryn McMurray all grown up and pretty as a princess. I said I could not invite him in as no one was home and it would not look proper with me betrothed and all. He is too old for you, Mary Kathryn, he said. It is all decided, I said. Who decided, he wanted to know. I took Joshua back from him and said it would be better if he called when Aunt Martha was home. He said he would do that.
Thomas left for his homestead today. He must take care of his business. He kissed me before he left. It was a first kiss and chaste. I feel guilty for my lack of feeling. I care for Thomas, but wonder how we will fare together as man and wife. He told Aunt Martha to watch out for me. I told him not to worry. I can watch out for myself. It is a wonder why he wants me as a wife when he treats me like a child.
The Scarlet Thread Page 12
