He shakes his head. “No, no. If Étienne finds out you were walkin’ to and from work, I’ll never make it to my weddin’ alive. I’ll take you.” Livingston takes a sip of his coffee and then his eyes widen, as though something has just occurred to him. “Asa works there, right? Why doesn’t he take you?”
I remain composed, but my hand curls around the fork so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t bend. “I don’t think that would be … best.”
“Ah.” Livingston nods, his eyes fill with understanding. “Because you interrupted his weddin’?”
My shoulders sag, and I sigh heavily. I don’t need a reminder of the past. “Yes, because of that.”
“Then why are you goin’ to work there?”
That’s a question I asked myself repeatedly before I fell asleep last night. If I wanted a job, I am certain I could’ve found one elsewhere. With enough coaxing, perhaps Étienne would have given me one at EAL Corporation. So why become a Hello Girl?
I do not have a clear answer.
But I think as much as I want freedom from parts of my past, I crave portions of it as well. The pieces that had Asa. And since I can’t have that, I want to be close to him. Because I haven’t felt safe in so long, and when I was around him, I did. His equanimity to all things in life is something I’ve always admired in him.
But this job, as exciting as it is, can be a dangerous risk.
“Are you ready?” Livingston asks.
Standing from the table, I place my napkin on the table. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“There is no placing your elbows on the desk. Space is limited when you’re taking the calls and you need to be mindful of the ladies next to you,” Louise says in a strict tone that bodes no room for interrupting.
I follow behind her, watching the ladies move to answer calls. This close to them I’m more than a little browbeaten. I’m terrified. How can I be expected to do what they do when
I don’t even know the locations of the jacks?
“If you must use the lavatory, please raise your hand and ask for a reprieve,” Louise continues.
I haven’t raised my hand in order to use the restroom since I was a child. The idea seems rather preposterous, but this is Louise and, for her, nothing is ludicrous.
Louise stops in front of a pretty girl who is settling into her station for the day. When she sees Louise approaching, she straightens her shoulders, as though a general is approaching.
“You’ll sit next to Leah Frances and listen to how she answers each subscriber. You will not say a word to one another.”
At first, I don’t think I’ve heard her correctly. How can I sit next to these ladies, day in and day out, and not speak to them? I take a closer look at the ladies and notice none of them interact with one another. It’s almost as if they all don’t realize the others’ existence. What’s so fascinating is even without words, they work in harmony. There’s a unity between them in how they move their arms, unplug each cord, move it to a new jack. Even to the melodious tones of their voices.
Wordlessly, Louise walks away. I take that as my cue to sit beside Leah Frances. I fidget nervously in my chair, staring at the headset in front of me.
Should I put this on now or later?
I look around at the other ladies. They’re wearing their headsets. I cast a glance at Leah Frances and see she’s still making herself comfortable.
The silence becomes unbearable to me, so I hold my hand out between us. “I’m Nathalie Claiborne.”
“I know. I saw you yesterday while Louise measured your arm span.”
My lips curve into a smile.
“I’m Leaf Inglenook,” she says.
Surely, I didn’t hear her correctly. “Leaf?”
“Yes. My real name is Leah Frances, but my momma calls me Leaf. And don’t worry. Louise has done that with everyone.” Leaf points to my headset. “Before we start, I should explain the switchboard. Unless you’re already familiar with it?”
Leaf talks quickly. For a moment, I stare at her in a daze. It takes me a minute to realize she asked me a question, so I quickly shake my head.
Leaf points to the section of the switchboard in front of her. “These jacks serve as local outlets to your subscribers. Each jack has its own lamp.” Leaf then points to the desk in front of us and the rows of switches. “When a subscriber calls, the lamp turns on. You then take the cord in the back row and place it into the correct jack.” She taps one of the toggle switches directly in front of her. “It’s important to know that these switches in front of each column serve a purpose. When you place the cord into the correct jack, you must make sure you flip the proper key, from the correct row, forward.” Leaf blinks at me. “Do you understand?”
I understood the cords gave her the ability to connect callers to anybody of their choosing, but all the information she gave me is overwhelming and a lot to process. And when I look around at the ladies and how quick and efficient they are, it feels as though I’ll never understand this. Nonetheless, I smile and nod, as though I’ve done this before because I’ve never been one to give up and walk away without a fight.
As though she can sense my confusion, Leaf smiles and begins to adjust her headset. “You just need to watch me until lunch. You will learn in no time.”
Her faith in me is admirable. At least one of us has it. For a moment I stare at her, and a thought occurs to me. “A Weissman purchased the Pleasonton home.”
“Yes, that’s my daddy. I live there with my parents and seven sisters.”
“Seven,” I repeat in awe. “That’s a lot.”
“And I’m the oldest.”
“My word.” I take a moment to regard Leaf. Her dark red hair is elegantly pulled back. And her pale skin is perfectly flawless. Apart from the freckles scattered across her pert nose. The disparity between her hair and black brows is apparent. But her bold brows only make her light green eyes more prominent. She doesn’t have a single chipped nail, and her clothes are freshly ironed.
And it leads me to one conclusion. Before this job, she hadn’t seen a day of work in her life.
“What prompted you to work here?”
“What prompted you to work here?” Leaf asks, turning my own question on me.
Before I can stumble my way through a reply Leaf says, “I remember hearin’ about a grand weddin’ several years ago between a Lacroix and a Claiborne. That marriage didn’t happen to belong to you, did it?” She finishes her words with a wink.
Rather than take offense, I dip my head. “Touché.”
We both have our reasons for being here that neither is willing to share. Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to know Leaf’s story.
“Ladies, there is no talking,” a strident voice says behind us.
I turn to say sorry, but by the time I twist in my chair, Louise is already striding in the other direction, her sharp gaze taking in the other ladies.
Once Leaf places her headset on, the lamps begin to light up. Her hands move swiftly across the switchboard, doing exactly as she told me, but with an efficiency that’s more than intimidating. Quickly, I grab the headset in front of me and put it on.