Supervolcano All Fall Down(139)

She had no enormous hope. Hope was not one of Jobseekersland’s natural resources—certainly not since Yellowstone blew up. But you had to go through the motions, and to be able to document that you were going through the motions, or your EDD checks would dry up. Going out to look for work was a pain in the ass. Losing the unemployment checks would be a supervolcano eruption in your own life.

And so, glumly, Louise walked into Van Slyke Pharmacy, at the corner of Van Slyke and Reynoso Drive. It was a mom-and-pop place, not part of a chain. Along with the usual patent medicines and shampoos and school supplies and whatnot, it sold brightly painted pottery artifacts that might be decorative if you were tasteless enough, stuffed animals that looked sort of but not quite like famous cartoon characters, and a bunch of secondhand books.

The pharmacist’s bad haircut and funky glasses frames warned that he might actually enjoy the ceramic tumors he was trying to unload. The badge he wore on his pastel polyester shirt said his name was Jared. Louise wanted to giggle. To her, Jared was a singing smiley on her computer that butchered ballads in Spanish, complete with wretched guitar accompaniment.

“Help you?” he asked. His lenses made his eyes seem enormous.

“Well, I’m looking for work,” she said resignedly. One more humiliation, then on to the next.

But instead of going Sorry or Not today or We don’t need anybody, Jared said, “I was going to post on Craigslist when the power comes back on. If it ever does. What was your last job?”

“I was an administrative assistant at the ramen company’s headquarters on Braxton Bragg,” Louise answered in astonishment.

“Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t have much choice. They closed down their American operation.”

“That’s right—they did. I remember hearing about that.” The pharmacist nodded. “You can answer the phone? You can type? You can handle an inventory spreadsheet when there is power?”

Louise managed a dazed nod. “I can do all that. I’m not exactly an Excel whiz, but I can cope if it’s not too complicated.”

“I’ll give you a try, then,” Jared said briskly. “I had to let someone go last week. I feel bad about it, but she just couldn’t do the work. If you can’t, I won’t keep you, either. But if you can, I’ll be glad to have you. I can’t do all that stuff and run the place, too, not if I want to sleep, I can’t.”

Louise could hardly believe her ears. “What kind of money are we talking about?”

He told her. It was less than the ramen works had paid, but it whaled the tar out of unemployment. “Medical after six months,” he added. “It’s not a terrific plan, but it’s better than nothing.”

“When do I start?” she asked. If she couldn’t stand it, she’d start looking for something else, something better. The best time to look for work was when you already had some.

“Monday morning, ten o’clock sharp,” he said. “I’ll have paperwork for you to fill out then. Can’t do anything without the paperwork.”

“Better yours than the EDD’s,” Louise said from the bottom of her heart.

“That’s a good way to look at things,” Jared said. “Tell me your name, why don’t you? Me, I’m Jared Watt.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Watt.” Louise gave her own name. “You’ve got no idea how pleased I am to meet you.”

“Oh, I just might, Mrs. Ferguson.”

“It’s Miz,” Louise said.

“Okay. Ms. Ferguson.” Jared Watt repeated it, perhaps to help himself remember. “Like I say, I just might. You aren’t the only one who’s had a tough time the past three, four years.”

“I feel great now.” Louise meant every word of it. An indifferent job in a business that didn’t look to be thriving with a boss who definitely seemed peculiar? Hey, it was work! No wonder she meant every word. “If I never see that Torrance unemployment office again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Well, all right,” the pharmacist said. “If I can’t drive you loopy, I don’t expect anyone can.”

“I’m not even worried about it.” Louise meant that, too. Whether she’d mean it by closing time a week from Friday might be another story altogether. It’ll be a week with a paycheck, anyhow, she thought. They don’t make weeks any better than those.

* * *

Colin Ferguson looked at his watch. It was only twenty-five past two. He would have bet it was four o’clock. Time flies when you’re having fun, he thought, and then Yeah, as if! He hadn’t been this nervous since, well, the last time he was this nervous. And that was . . . probably when he’d asked Kelly to marry him. A while ago, in other words.