I glanced over. "You're one of the top salespeople? How come you never mentioned that?"
She shrugged. "Doesn't sound like much compared to USC."
"Your department's got a lot of people in it," I said, switching lanes. "Not only that, but it's not a small thing to be good at sales. People pay a lot of money to master a skill like that."
"It is hard," she agreed, talking faster, "but I wouldn't call it a skill. You just ask people about themselves and learn enough about the product to make it sound like you know what you're talking about, and before you know it, the credit card is out."
"Tiffany, taking people's money is a skill, believe me." I flipped on the blinker. "Could you imagine me selling anyone anything like that?"
Her laugh lightened the mood in the car. "I mean, there's even more to it than that, I was just being sarcastic." She gestured out the windshield at nothing. "Like, when I find the right outfit for someone's weird body type, it feels like . . ."
"An accomplishment?" I asked.
"Yes! It feels good."
Hearing the excitement in her voice caught me off guard. She rarely got worked up about her job, and her bad mood began to make a little more sense. If she said any of this to her dad, he'd probably undermine her achievement. "I'm taking you out to celebrate," I said.
"Celebrate what?" she asked. "I don't even know if I'll get the job."
"The salesperson thing. I'm telling you, it's a big deal. Especially somewhere as big as Nordstrom."
I didn't have to look over to sense her smiling. "Listen to this. There're people in the corporate office who get paid to shop. They travel around to designers and pick out the clothes and accessories we carry."
"Sounds perfect for you."
"I know, but I'd need a degree."
I wanted to finish my twelve credits, but I couldn't afford it, not right now. Tiffany might be able to qualify for a loan, though. "Maybe you could enroll somewhere in the fall. Not to make your dad happy, but because you want the promotion. Because you one day want to be that person who . . . shops for a living, Lord help us all."
She grinned, tracing circles on the console. "I don't know. It seems kind of impossible, but . . ."
"But what? Find out the requirements of those positions and see if there are any classes that match."
"I just don't know if . . . if I want to do that forever. I feel like I need to sit down and really think about my future."
I wanted to point out to her that that was a luxury most people didn't have-people like me-but I didn't want to diminish the fact that she was finally tapping into something that might interest her. Tiffany had some flaws, but those flaws could easily work in her favor if she aimed her energy in the right direction.
Her dad had tried to get her to do just that, and her mom had let her off the hook for too long now. It was a funny, almost rewarding thing, to be the only one who'd been able to get through to her so far.
13
Manning
The Ritz-Carlton sat on a cliff, overlooking a dark expanse of Pacific Ocean. The white-columned and marbled-floored lobby had bouquets of flowers as tall as me.
"I've always loved this place," Tiffany said. "So many childhood memories."
Well, fuck me. I'd never been in a hotel this nice, and certainly not as a kid. In that moment, I was grateful for the times Cathy had wounded my pride by forcing nice clothes on me.
Charles stood at the opposite end of the lobby while Lake and Cathy had gone to look at the view.
"What took so long?" Charles asked, motioning for us to hurry.
"Manning insisted on self-parking," Tiffany said.
As long as I lived, no matter where I ended up in life, I hoped I'd always opt to walk an extra two minutes to save a few bucks.
"He's frugal," Charles said to her. "You could learn a thing or two about that."
I was pretty sure it was a compliment, and the first he'd ever paid me. I just wished it hadn't been at Tiffany's expense.
We met Cathy and Lake to walk to the restaurant. "I used to bring the girls here for tea time during the holidays," Cathy said. "Remind me to show you pictures, Manning. The girls were so adorable in matching red dresses."
Lake and Tiffany, ahead of us, turned to each other and made matching "gag-me" faces as they laughed. I could just picture them-pint-sized, giggling towheads. "What were you like?" I asked.
Both girls glanced back at me. I imagined as kids, they looked a lot like they did in that moment, young and confused and being silly.