The Porshe was a joy to drive, and she hated to park it. The Realtor was willing to lead the way, so she got to drive a while longer. He had five properties on the “B-list,” whatever that was. The first home astounded her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to commit to such an expensive home, even on her salary it would have cost her an entire year to pay for it.
The second home was smaller, but much more expensive. Celine was madly in love with the home, and it was very expensively furnished. When she made the remark that it would take her years to furnish it the way it was now, the Realtor surprised her by saying that the furnishings were to stay with the house. “Are the rest of the homes in the same price range?” she asked plaintively.
“Well…yes they are, but I don’t see why that should concern you Ms. Powell,” the Realtor said, shuffling the papers, “you won’t be paying for the house.”
Dumbfounded, Celine stared at the sandy haired handsome man. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“All the homes on the B-list are already paid for and belong to PiezoTec,” he said, “under the terms of your employment contract, all you have to do is sign for the one you want and it’s yours until after the twelfth month of your employment. If you contract is extended beyond the twelfth month, the property is signed over to you permanently at no charge…all you are responsible for is the insurance and taxes, and those are paid for the first twelve months.”
In a daze, she read and signed the papers, deciding then and there to hire an attorney to thoroughly review all the contracts and agreements she had signed since she had accepted employment with PiezoTec. This was too good to be true.
Within two hours her apartment had been cleaned out and everything she owned was in the two car garage of the new house. To her surprise, the old Malibu had been taken to the Service Manager. A short call to the Service Manager gave her reason to sit down at her new kitchen table and read the contracts she had signed at the plant. As she was discovering that the auto contract had already transferred ownership to her, Sylvia arrived with a carload of groceries and a few bottles of Argentine wine as a housewarming present.
“Sylvia thank you so much,“ Celine said, wrapping her arms around the woman and hugging her tightly. “I’ll make us some coffee,” she said, “my head is spinning, and so much has happened…I’m not sure I can take all this in.” She stumbled around looking for her coffee pot and coffee in the garage until Sylvia took pity on her.
“Come on inside,” she said, “I think I can help a little here.” Sylvia led Celine into the spacious kitchen and set Celine down at the table in front of her pile of papers. Sylvia went to the counter and pressed a button Celine hadn’t noticed before. Two hidden doors slid open, exposing the most elaborate bronzed coffee and espresso maker she had ever seen. Sylvia carefully ground Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee beans and made coffee. As soon as it began to brew, the coffee filled the house with an incredible aroma. “It’s the same stuff they serve at the White House,” Sylvia said with a smile. “Peter’s a coffee snob, and the corporate jet makes a trip down once a week…we buy direct from the factor in Jamaica and everyone on the B-list executive gets a pound.” She lifted a fresh cup and handed it to Celine, “This stuff costs more than good scotch.”
Sylvia sat down at the table and blew her bangs out of the way. “I’m to tell you that you have the next seven days to yourself,” she said, “and help you with any questions you have. If you don’t wish to continue, you can stop now, but the car and the clothes are still yours. You would be transferred to an executive secretary’s job within the corporation at a substantial salary decrease, but still more than double the going rate.” Sylvia let out a long sigh, as if she had recited the whole speech from memory…which she had. She did not mention to Celine that only one other female had gotten this far in the process before, and that female was Sylvia herself.
“I feel like Cinderella,” Celine admitted, “My head is spinning and I’m not sure I understand everything I’ve signed. I’m a little sore from last night, but physically I feel marvelous.” She toyed with the black coral necklace, looking at the matching one around Sylvia’s neck.
Sylvia didn’t miss the pointed look. She gripped Celine’s hand in hers and their heads came together conspiratorially. “My suggestion is that you get bombed out of your mind after we put up your clothes and linens. Tomorrow you can schedule an appointment with the attorney of your choice to go over the terms of your contracts. “In the meantime,” she said, unbuttoning the buttons of her dress and dropping it to the floor, “I suggest you invoke ‘Sylvia’s Rule’ in your new home.” She reached over to her bag and brought out a small gift wrapped package. It was a short silk kimono, an unbelievable shade of dark blue, with iridescent tropical fish printed on it. “I hang mine on a clothes horse just inside my front door. ‘Sylvia’s Rule’ is that there is no clothing worn inside the house other than kimonos.” She reached inside her bag and pulled out her own matching kimono and put it on, covering her spectacular figure.