Page 5 of Fathers of the Bride
“That’s a bank,” I pointed out swiftly. I didn’t mind banks, in fact come to think of it, I rather liked them. But I was sure my daughter hated them.
“Oh, oh, oh, do you know anyone in promotions?” Raj asked, always on the hunt for new opportunities.
“Ignore him,” I said.
“Well, yes, itisa bank,” Avery said, squirming a tad. “But I don’t deal with the promotions department much. My interest is in microfinance. We’re looking at ways to facilitate very small business loans in third world countries to support developing economies like that of Malawi.”
“It’s very important to the women of Malawi to be able to borrow small amounts, often just fifty or a hundred dollars,” Kelly jumped in and continued for him. “These are women who sometimes make just ten or fifteen dollars a week. They use the loans to buy materials for their businesses or to hire others to work for them. A laundress might buy an additional wash tub, soap, and hire a local girl for two dollars a day. Then she doubles the amount of laundry she’s able to do, increasing her income.”
Honestly, I couldn’t care less—but the glow on Kelly’s face. Her excitement, her joy at having helped—or being in love with a man who helped—well, it was wonderful to see.
“That sounds amazing,” I said. “But isn’t it hard to make money doing that? I mean, the interest must be pennies.”
Raj nodded vigorously, though I doubt he fully understood.
“I’m glad you asked that, s—An—Andrew. The returnsaresmall, that’s true. However, around the world, there are billions of people in need. If you charge them all a penny a day that’s tens of millions each day. As long as you keep the cost of lending down to a quarter of a cent a day per thousand dollars, well, your profit is substantial. Not to mention, as these people pull themselves out of poverty, the bank they’re going to want to use is Security Financial.”
“Uh-huh.” I had the feeling I’d just received part of his pitch to upper management. Basically, he’d translated social responsibility into, well, greed. I couldn’t understand why Kelly was staring at him like he hung the moon—or more accurately had improved the lives of billions of the poor. Normally, I’d have expected her to drill holes into every word he said.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
God, I hoped not.
“You’re wondering what your socially aware, activist daughter would want with me… well, the thing is, my family owns a respectable percentage of Security Financial. I never dreamed I’d work there, but then I realized I could change things from within.”
“He’s already gotten them to shift two and a half percent of their assets to supporting developing nations. Isn’t that terrific?”
“Wonderful,” I said. “So where will you be working?”
“I’ll continue to travel. But our home base will always be Los Angeles. Our families are here, so we want to spend the better part of each year here. I have a condo downtown that I bought while I was at USC.”
“Why haven’t you been staying there?”
“It’s rented until the end of December.”
“And what doyouplan to do for work?” I asked my daughter.
“I don’t know. The women of Malawi were so inspiring. I’m thinking I might write a book about them.”
“Kelly doesn’t have to work for money. She can do whatever inspires her.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. I mean, I liked thesoundof it, but I wasn’t sure it was real. It might just be millennial code for keeping my daughter barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.
And if that was his aim, he’d be saying something exactly like ‘She can do whatever inspires her.’ I mean, no one ever says, ‘I’m going to knock up your daughter and make her wait on me hand and foot.’ Now do they?
The waiter was back with our drinks. He laid them out on the table and then begin to pick up the empties. When he tried to take my current drink, I slapped his hand, picked it up myself, and downed the last few tablespoons of vodka. Then I held out the now-empty glass to him. He cautiously took it.
“I’ll come back later for your order,” he said, flitting off.
My daughter was giving me a very parental look. Something she did even as a child. Then she turned to Raj and politely asked, “So Raj, how are you?”
“I have almost nine hundred thousand followers.” How Raj was on a day-to-day basis was directly related to his online presence. The closer he got to a million followers, the happier he was.
“My mom and stepmom follow you on Instagram,” Avery said.
“Oh, well, we’ll do a selfie after dinner and tag them.”
“They’ll love that!”
