“Oh, how nice you look and so grown-up. I confess I couldn’t believe it when your father told me his plans for you. I’ve made sure to have one of our nicest desks brought out for you and, as you can see, placed in a perfect part of our lobby. I’ll go over all the options you can suggest and offer new customers with the proper referrals clearly delineated,” she said, her eyes moving off me to my father on almost every other word. “You mustn’t be afraid to ask me anything. Nothing is too small.”

She paused to take a deep breath. I thought she reeked of some heavy rosewater scent. How could my father tolerate it? I wondered. She tried to take my hand to lead me to my desk, but I recoiled so sharply she could only widen her smile, nod at my father, and lead the way.

My nameplate was on the desk, with the words Bank Receptionist and Information printed below my name. There were small piles of paper describing different types of loans, savings accounts, and checking accounts. She asked me to sit first. I suspected she was testing to see how I would do so. Would I, like some young girl, slump in my chair or sit up with dignity? I didn’t need any lessons. I sat quietly while she reviewed the information. When I didn’t ask a question, she asked if she was going too fast.

“Not at all,” I said.

I gave her my best false smile, and she continued. She ended just as the bank’s doors were opening.

“Good luck,” she said, and hurried away. I sat back, aware that everyone in the bank was still looking at me. Some other girl would be intimidated, I thought, but having eyes drawn to my face magnetically was something I was quite accustomed to experiencing.

My only fear was utter boredom.

As it turned out, I had no reason to be afraid of long, empty moments. There was hardly a single male customer who didn’t stop by to greet me and be greeted. When I glanced over to my right to where my father sat, I saw his proud smile. Wouldn’t it be something, I thought, if Garland Foxworth entered this bank unaware that I would be the first person upon whom he would set sight? Just imagining it brought a softer, happier smile to my face. Many other young men, many who were already married, misinterpreted it as showing romantic interest in them. Those men stopped to talk on the way out as well.