good time management and an ability to follow procedure. Finance and investments and the paperwork that came with it must have been a boring change.
Will opened the employment ad he kept on his desktop. “Maybe ‘financial administrative assistant’ isn’t the right title.” The leather executive chair that fit the expensive atmosphere of his office was silent as he twisted back and forth and flipped through the possibilities. “Assistant financial planner. Junior finance agent. Salesperson with a flair for investments. Person who can use a checklist and answer the telephone.”
He didn’t understand the difficulty. He yanked the three-inch three-ring binder off the shelf and dumped it on his desk with a thud. “Everything is in here. All I need is someone who will follow these directions step-by-step.” He flipped the pages and read, “How to answer the phone, what to do with the mail, when to take lunch and breaks...”
Reworking the employment ad would be a waste of time, so he emailed the Holly Heights classified editor and the newspaper in Austin to run the ad as soon as possible. This could be the time he found a UT Austin finance graduate who’d always dreamed of a small-town life instead of a hefty paycheck.
When the phone rang, he waited for someone else to answer it and realized it was going to be a long week.
“Barnes Financial. This is Will.”
“The man himself. What happened to the assistant who answered the first time I called?” Rebecca asked. Will could hear the smile in her voice. That’s the kind of person Rebecca Lincoln was. Her sunny personality made bad days better. “And are you already hard at work finding good places to send my money?”
“Not yet. I start by finding ways to make you money. It’s kind of my thing.” Will waited for her to laugh. When she did, he relaxed in his seat. “I’ve got some good leads, too, so whenever you have a minute, I could present them to you and Jen and Stephanie.” Was it cowardly to ask Rebecca to arrange things with his stepsister? Possibly.
“Jen’s insistence that I’ll be robbed blind without your help is insulting,” Rebecca muttered. “I’ve managed to keep the lights on all by myself for some time.”
“Sure, but now you’re going to be a juicier target.” Will grimaced. Juicier wasn’t a word he should use in conversation with a client.
“I guess.” Rebecca sighed. “And even if I want to give it all away, I would like to make sure the money has an impact.”
Will didn’t understand Rebecca’s urge to donate that much money, but he could still help Holly Heights’s lottery winners make good decisions. “If we use some of your winnings to make more money, that means more help to spread around.” As well as a solid payday for him.
“You and Jen, you’re stuck in the same loop. But I agree. All of us together, we’re going to make Holly Heights better and change the world. This is about more than finding places with the best financial returns. You’re sure you know what I want?”
He wasn’t sure he agreed with her, but the client was always right at Barnes Financial.
Unless he couldn’t stomach how wrong they were.
“How about I present you with some options? I know you’ve already earmarked funds for the hospital’s mentoring program, and I’ve made donations in your name to the short list of causes you gave me when we started. Now we can talk investments and other programs closer to home. You let me know what works with your schedule, and I’ll have a few things to show all three of you.”
“Sounds good. Stephanie passed along the check I wrote to HealthyAmericas, but we might want to send another donation. Daniel’s identified five students to sponsor through the university in Lima, so he’ll need funds for tuition. Please add them to your list,” Rebecca said.
“Okay.” Will jotted a reminder to study the financials of the medical charity Rebecca’s brother, Daniel, worked with in South America. Researching not-for-profits was going to be a new direction, but the process should be similar.
Not that it mattered. Rebecca’s brother and her best friend, Stephanie, were doing good things in Peru. Stephanie’s blog was a record of how money and dedicated, passionate people could make amazing progress that would impact generations.
It would take some serious mismanagement to turn Rebecca and Stephanie away from HealthyAmericas. His gut said it wasn’t a problem.
“We’ll have a dinner party to send the lovebirds back to Lima. I’ll give them the check before they go.” Rebecca sighed happily. “By then, my new kitchen will be finished. And you’re coming.” The long pause indicated she was waiting for his answer.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Almost everyone he knew in Holly Heights was a part of Rebecca’s crowd, but there might be a few networking opportunities.
“You need to call your sister,” Rebecca said. “She’s making some big decisions. It would be nice if she had some advice.”
He’d tried that once. She’d ordered him to go shove his head in the lake. Loudly.
They’d always mixed like orange juice and toothpaste.
“I will call her. I promise.” But not today. Tomorrow, definitely.
“I’m going to hold you to that. Aunt Jen would like to know your Chloe.” She hung up and he wondered if this would be the way he and Jen communicated now that he was in town. Rebecca would get tired of being the middleman sooner or later.
And Chloe and Jen and Brenda—his stepmother—together were the reason he was taking this risk in the first place.
But his plate was pretty full at the moment.
First, he needed some leads on organizations Rebecca would love. Jen and Stephanie were mainly along for the ride.
“Who could I call to find out about local organizations? Somebody at the chamber of commerce?” He scrolled through his list of business contacts, saw the name of his leasing agent and decided that was a good place to start. Real estate agents should have plenty of inside information on all the businesses in town.
Before he could dial the number, he heard the front door open, thanks to the chime he’d had installed after his first secretary left him in the lurch. The how-to binder had been much smaller then. He’d learned a lot from that three-week stretch.
Had Chloe even tried to follow his orders?
He put the phone down and rolled the chair back, ready to either lecture his daughter on safety or explain to his visitor that he wasn’t seeing clients that morning, but he’d be happy to make an appointment, when he heard a dog bark.
Inside his office. There was a dog inside his office.
He hurried around his desk and paused in the doorway to the reception area. His ears hadn’t deceived him. There, standing on the rug he’d bought because it matched the room’s tone of somber wealth, was...a dog. Big. Brown. Hairy. And happy, if the lolling tongue could be construed as an emotional display. The dog barked again and the woman—who had absolutely no hope of stopping it if the creature decided to make a break for it—shushed him. “Bub, be quiet. Use your inside manners.”
“Or better yet, take whatever manners
