Mrs. Anderson stopped her with a lifted hand. “You’ve got the job. What else is it?”
Nan wasn’t too surprised at the abruptness of the offer. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were both rather abrupt types.
“Well, Calvin and I are thinking about starting our own business and we wanted your guidance and help. Mr. Anderson had told us he was retiring within a few years and we were thinking about doing some of the things he does.” Quickly she added, “But only when he’s quit doing them. We would never infringe on his work.”
“That’s good to hear,” replied Mrs. Anderson.
“Calvin has run some equipment before, when he was in college, but he needs more experience. We were hoping Mr. Anderson would let him work with him some, to learn what to do. Of course, we’d pay at least something for the training.”
Mrs. Anderson stopped Nan quickly again. “Don’t be ridiculous. Herbert would welcome someone to learn the business. He’s been worried about what the area will do when he retires.” Mrs. Anderson frowned. “No one wants to get their hands dirty anymore. That lay about Jimmy Hollister is about all the help Herbert can get, and he’s worse than useless, sometimes.”
Her next words echoed Calvin sentiment from that morning. “I suspect you could do the work better than Jimmy,” said Mrs. Anderson.
“Oh,” Nan said carefully, “I certainly wouldn’t mind learning that end of the business, too. Especially if I’m going to be working for the two of you. May I ask why you need the help? My understanding was that you took care of all the office work.”
“Of course, I do.” Mrs. Anderson sighed and lowered her voice slightly when she spoke again. “But I’m not as spry as I once was. I’m going to have to have both hip joints replaced pretty soon. I’m not going to be able to get around much for a time.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Anderson,” Nan said sympathetically.
“Don’t you fret none, missy. I’ll be up and about better than ever when it’s over and done. I’m looking forward to it. Well, it being over, anyway.”
“That is a wonderful attitude, Mrs. Anderson. I admire you.”
“Just the way I’m built, dearie. Nothing special. Now, I’ll talk to Herbert about this. Let him know I’m hiring you for the office. He and your hubby will want to discuss it themselves, I’m sure. We’ll be out this evening. About six?”
“That would be fine, Mrs. Anderson. And don’t you dare bring a house warming gift.”
“Never tell an old woman what to do,” Mrs. Anderson said without malice. “It just makes things worse. Now. Come around the desk. We need to start your training. You know anything about computers?”
Nan spent most of the day with Beth Anderson, learning the ins and outs of Mr. Anderson’s various businesses. She went away somewhat awed at what the couple did in the area. She was waiting outside the grocery store when Calvin pulled up that afternoon.
“How’d it go?” he asked after kissing Nan and loading the few groceries she’d picked up for them.
“You will not believe,” she said. “Let’s get going. We have to prepare for company this evening.”
Knowing he would be thoroughly briefed, in time, Calvin nodded and climbed into the Jeep as Nan entered on the passenger side. They were well on their way back home before Nan excitedly told Calvin what had transpired that day.
“Wow,” he replied when Nan had finished. “You sure don’t let the grass grow under your feet. I don’t know what to say. At lunch time today I checked on all the equipment again and got updated prices and availability. I’ll be able to explain it all to Mr. Anderson, even without an official proposal.”
“I suspect they’d turn down an official proposal. Just talking it out will be better. What are the chances of getting the equipment soon?”
“The availability is there, except for some of the things I want for the Unimog. The Bobcats and their attachments are no problem. Just the money. I made a couple of calls to banks about business loans. They’re willing to discuss it. I’ll definitely do an official business proposal for them.”
As Nan had suspected from Mrs. Anderson’s words, Beth and Herbert had a house warming gift for them when they arrived. A nice Home Sweet Home embroidery.
“I’d rather not talk business till after we eat,” were Mr. Anderson’s first words, after “Howdy, folks.”
“That’s just fine,” Calvin told him, taking the coats to hang up in the entry way closet.
“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes,” Nan said, coming from the kitchen. “I hope meatloaf is okay.”
“Excellent. Excellent,” Mr. Anderson said. “I doubt it will be as good as Beth’s, but it’d take an expert cook to even come close.”
“I must admit I do make a prize winning meatloaf,” Mrs. Anderson said. “But I’m sure we’ll enjoy yours.” She took one of Nan’s hands in hers and patted it reassuringly.
Nan took it in stride, turning to sweep an arm toward the living room. “What do you think? Would you like a tour?”
As Mrs. Anderson was saying yes, Mr. Anderson told Calvin. “You can tell a lot about a man from the tools he owns. You got any tools, young man?”
“I do for a fact,” Calvin said, looking over at his wife and winking when Mrs. Anderson couldn’t see. They went their separate ways, Calvin showing Mr. Anderson the house starting in the garage, with Nan showing Mrs. Anderson the kitchen first.
Both the Andersons seemed somewhat impressed with the house, and the Stubblefield’s, too, when they gathered around the dining table. “It will just take a moment,” Nan said. “Calvin, could you lend a hand, please?”
It was a rather simple meal. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, whole kernel corn, and rather than a salad, sliced tomato, cucumber, and onion in peppered vinegar. The Anderson’s seemed to enjoy it, Mr. Anderson going so far as saying, “Not as good as Beth’s, like I expected, but fine. Mighty fine. What’s dessert?”
“Now, Herbert. You know you aren’t supposed to eat much sweets.” She cut her eyes toward Nan. “But I would be curious as to what you might have prepared.”
“I made up a batch of black walnut brownies and a quart of ice cream.”
“You made the ice cream?” Mr. Anderson said, his face showing his surprise.
“Strawberry,” replied Calvin.
Mr. Anderson shot a pleading look at his wife. She looked thoughtful, but took little time in answering. “Well, I suppose a bit won’t hurt you all that much. I wouldn’t mind trying your brownies… maybe just a scoop of that ice cream, to see if I can tell which recipe you used.”
Mrs. Anderson never really said what recipes she thought Nan had used, but seemed to enjoy the dessert as much as Mr. Anderson did.”
“Mighty fine,” Mr. Anderson said, patting his stomach as Nan and Calvin cleared the table.
“Would you like to take your coffee to the living room where we can talk?”
“No more coffee,” said Mr. Anderson. “Might you have anything stronger?”
“Now Herbert,” admonished Mrs. Anderson.
“We have a small bar,” replied Calvin, when Mrs. Anderson didn’t insist on a no, and looked rather interested herself. Calvin went over to the built-in cabinets flanking the fireplace and opened one.
“We don’t drink much,” Calvin continued, but we like to keep a selection for guests. Is there anything in particular you would like?”
“I usually just drink sippin’ whiskey, but I’m a mind to try something new,” Mr. Anderson said, walking over to join Calvin and take a look at the offerings. “What’s that rounded bottle with the long neck. He squinted a bit. “Irish something.”
“Irish Mist,” replied Calvin. He opened the bottle and let Mr. Anderson take a sniff. “It’s very good,” Calvin said. “Would you like to try a snifter?”