Part 1 (2/2)
March 27, 2137 Back to the lawyer today for the bad news.
”We need to think creatively,” he said. ”The estate is essentially a negative number. If you sell the house, you can pay off all the debts, but you will have nothing left to pay the capital gains. If you don't sell the house, you can't service the interest on the debts.”
I sighed. I had come to the same conclusions two months before, at no expense to myself.
”We need to consider employment,” he said. ”What is your profession?”
I admitted I had no profession. Harry and I had married when I was very young, and he a.s.sured me he wanted to have me at home with Susan. When the twins arrived seven years later, any plans for my entering the workforce had to be postponed.
April 9, 2137 Captain Wilkenson dropped by the house today to give me the last check.
”Sorry it has been so long in coming,” he said. ”The department had to calculate all the vacation time Harry earned and all the time he had taken. Things are so complicated, and paperwork gets lost frequently.” He looked very miserable, as if accounting for vacation days were his worst problem.
”I appreciate your bringing it to me personally. So kind of you,” I blathered.
”I should have come by before, I realize, but things are so busy. This terrible heat has had everything so dry, and we just don't have the staff to handle all the calls.”
This was no news to me. The last four years have been the hottest on record in Ohio. The polar icecaps were at about half their usual size, and winter was almost nonexistent.
Of course, it is bad form to complain about your troubles to a recent widow. Captain Wilkenson quickly remembered his manners.
”I hope you are doing okay,” he said, hanging his head a little bit. ”Harry was one of the best, and I expect he had faith in you to carry on.”
With this comforting statement, he took his leave.
I waived as he drove out of the driveway, and then I quickly tore open the envelope. The amount was just double Harry's typical monthly check.
I quickly got into my car and drove to the bank. I paid my overdue mortgage and put some of the funds into my grocery card.
By the end of the day, I had brought home enough food for two months, including a half pound of coffee. I consider myself about three months from the day when the mortgage will be foreclosed.
April 19, 2137 The Reverend Wade and Mrs. Wade came to call this afternoon. I could put it off no longer.
Before they came, I was certain they wanted a donation for their church, perhaps in the form of a member. Widows are always being pursued, during these first few months, by people wanting money from the insurance payout.
”We want to talk to you about our work on Clarkl,” Mrs. Wade said after I had served coffee. ”We hope you will find it of interest to you.”
I braced myself for the pitch.
”Yes,” the Reverend Wade continued, ”our church has sent over ten thousand people to Clarkl, and we always are looking for intelligent women to recruit.”
”Where is Clarkl?” I asked. ”In Africa?”
The Wades smiled. Mrs. Wade said, ”We can't see its star from Earth, but it was one of the first planets to invite Earthlings.”
”Whatever would you do there? Why would the Clarkl natives want missionaries?” I asked.
”We aren't missionaries, primarily,” Mrs. Wade said. ”Certainly, that's our reason for going there, but the government on Clarkl wants us to help feed its population. It pays us very well for people who can farm and cook. Then, we have some spare time to spread the word. About Jesus, that is.”
”I have never farmed,” I admitted. ”I like to grow some corn in the back yard, but it's been too hot lately for good corn.”
The Reverend Wade nodded. He said, ”I still remember those delicious cookies you served when I was here before. That's what gave me the idea you might be interested in joining our group as a cook.”
I remembered those cookies. Helen had been too loaded down with pies and the leftover ham to take the cookies. They had come from one of the firemen's wives.
”I'll leave our brochure,” he said. ”It tells how long a commitment you will need to make and how much you can earn. Perhaps you can share it with your children. They ought to be involved with your decisions, of course.”
I smiled and accepted the brochure. The Wades finished their coffee.
May 3, 2137 Today I looked at that pamphlet the Wades left about Clarkl. If I could cook, I could earn about $25,000 per year and some retirement funds. Of course, I would need to go to faraway Clarkl, and I would need to stay for at least ten years.
I'd better get down to the county library tomorrow to investigate Clarkl.
May 5, 2137 The reference librarian helped me with Clarkl, saying there had been a great deal of interest in that planet lately.
Clarkl is much colder than Earth, and it is very primitive in terms of the quality of life. Housing is the worst problem for Earthlings, but the terrible snowstorms are certainly another.
Clarkl has technology significantly more advanced than Earth, though. The s.p.a.cecrafts from Clarkl land on Earth to pick up workers nearly every three weeks.
One bizarre note had the reference librarian hooting: there are seven s.e.xes on Clarkl. The dominant ent.i.ties are human types that walk upright, but that species has divided itself into seven subtypes. The librarian was unable to find information about other species living on Clarkl, so I don't know if the other species come in pairs or in sets of seven.
The pictures of the New Christian Congregation's compound are interesting, though. The workers live in single-person huts, each one with the charm and comforts of housing at Girl Scout camp. Flooring is rare, and a good roof is more precious than rubies.
Another Christian group is also there, also trying to feed the natives. I wonder what their deal looks like? If only I could cook.
I don't believe learning to cook is beyond my powers. I just haven't had much use for it. Everything comes in handy packages nowadays, and restaurants, with professionals, exist for those few special occasions when a good meal is required. I believe anybody can learn to cook, but few take the time to do so.
My grandmother could cook, so it couldn't be that hard, could it?
May 7, 2137 The book I ordered about Clarkl arrived. I'll look at it and then send it back for a refund.
The human-like beings are very ugly. The pictures of groups of them look like a Halloween party, without the candied apples.
The seven s.e.xes are: Monarchs, Seekers, Drones, Batwigs, Slinkers, Carriers, and Wolpters. The Drones and the Batwigs are sterile, but the Batwigs are usually near the top of the social order.
Of course, the Monarchs are the rulers, but their status varies with the changes in the quality of life. If there is ample food, the Monarchs are revered and cared for. If rains and floods have washed away houses and crops, the Monarchs have to watch their backsides. I believe the Monarchs are the ugliest of all the creatures, with strange feelers on their heads.
Our clients are the Batwigs. These ent.i.ties are very concerned about keeping the civilization alive, and they contacted the American government on Earth in the early 2070s to ask for help. These early messages indicated they had several rare elements to sell, including various types of uranium the government wanted. The President quickly realized they would approach other heads of state with the same offer, so the Secretary of State authorized five groups to develop proposals for efficiently feeding the ma.s.ses on Clarkl.
The New Christian Congregation, founded in 2073 to meet the need for such a proposal, was the first group to be awarded a contract. The Fundamentalists of Christ also were awarded a contract. Both organizations continue to work on Clarkl today, and the government pays for the rare elements by underwriting the labor and supplies of the two religious organizations.
No info in this book on how much the Fundamentalists are paying for cooks, so back it goes. I'll make copies of some of the pictures at the library before I take it to the Post Office.
May 10, 2137 The reference librarian was very interested in the pictures in the book.
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