Page 112 of More Than Pen Pals

“I know you’re wondering how old I am, so I’m going to tell you, but you will not tell anyone else. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m thirty.”

I try to keep my eyes from widening, but I’m unsuccessful.

“I’m going to take that look as a compliment,” she says. “And yes, I realize I’m several years older than … those people we’re not talking about today, but I’m hoping that won’t matter.”

I don’t know Randall that well, but I don’t think the age difference would bother him. And I know for sure my brother wouldn’t care.

“Anyway, my mom got pregnant in high school, they had a shotgun wedding, and then my father left when I was two. I don’t remember him being in my life at all, although I’ve seen him on a few rare occasions throughout the years. Then Mom met my step-dad—who I call ‘Dad,’ because that’s what he’s always been to me—when I was six. It took him a couple years to convince her he wanted to marry a woman with a child. Actually, I helped convince her, because I was dying for him to be my dad. Then a few years later my brothers came along.”

“Did you go to college in Wisconsin?”

“I came here. I went to Northwestern.”

Again, my eyes widen.

“What?” she teases. “Don’t think I’m good enough for Northwestern?”

“No, I …” I actually don’t know what I thought other than I was stereotyping her.

“Don’t worry about it. My dad’s a lawyer, and I was valedictorian. Put those two together, and it’s a ticket for a good school.”

I nod. “So did you stay in the Chicago area after graduating?”

“Keep your eyeballs in your sockets for this. I went to the University of Chicago and got my MBA.”

“Wow.” I’m seriously impressed.

“I worked part-time for a PR firm during grad school, and I loved it. They hired me after graduation, and I was there full-time for more than five years.”

Wendy’s education and years of experience all help explain how she can afford a nicer apartment than I can. My salary is much better than it was in Peoria, but the cost of living is astronomically higher here.

The waitress brings our soup, and we spend a few minutes eating and talking about the restaurant.

Then I ask, “So how did you end up at Carter-Jenkins?”

“My old job was fine, but I didn’t like some of the internal politics going on at the firm. I knew George’s reputation and his desire to get his clients to do good things in the world, so I called him one day about seven months ago and told him why he should hire me. He did.”

I laugh, because that doesn’t surprise me at all. “You were your own PR rep.”

“Indeed, I was. Oh! I completely forgot to tell you. Ash called me yesterday.”

“We’re not supposed to—”

She flaps a hand at me. “I know, but this is about work, so it’s fine. You know the woman who cleans their office that got him started on this whole Diego Sanchez foundation thing? He asked her to come talk to Diego with us, and she said yes!”

“That was an excellent idea. Diego’s going to have a hard time saying no with her there.”

“My thoughts exactly. But that’s not the main reason Ash asked her. He’s hoping when Diego hears her story, he’ll immediately help her husband.”

My heart swells when I realize how Ash worked this out. “Since he’s not allowed to ask Diego for favors, Ash thought he’d put the situation in front of him and let it be Diego’s idea to help.”

“He’s a brilliant man.”

“And a ridiculously kind one.”

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