“So, you’ve only moved across the road?” he asked.
“Yes. It might explain why I am content downtown; it’s my neighborhood.” Though as a child, she had hated being the only kid downtown. Maybe that’s why she played with Rafferty. He was with his dad during the summers at the office.
“This is my parents’.” Anderson waved at the big houses and big yards. She could almost see kids playing in the yards and riding bikes down the road. She wished she could see it in summer instead of covered in piles of deep snow.
After pulling up to a gray house, Anderson shut off the car as Ruth looked around. As she opened the door, the cool air circled around her, her sweater providing little protection against the weather.
Anderson walked around the car and took her hand. He must have noticed how nervous she was because he pulled her into his arms and said, “Don’t be nervous. They are going to love you.”
He held her hand as they walked up to the door and went inside. It was twice the size of the home her mother owned and maybe even bigger than that. Looking up at the two-story entry, she wondered why someone would need something so grand.
He called out a greeting as they slipped off their shoes by the entry door. Turning, she saw an older couple coming her way. The man looked a lot like Jonathan, only older. The woman, who was smiling at her, had Anderson’s coloring. Ruth liked her immediately.
She smiled as Anderson introduced her to Dan and Kim Miles, his parents. To her surprise, they did seem happy to be introduced to her. His mom even gave her a hug.
“I am so happy Andy finally brought you to meet us.” Dan slapped his son on the back. Though Ruth had worked for his company for over four years, she had never met the man. Occasionally, she had talked to him on the phone.
“I didn’t realize he was hiding me.” She gave a nervous laugh.
“Maybe not hiding, but keeping you to himself,” Kim said as she led her towards the kitchen in the back of the house. It was through a living room that looked like it wasn’t used and through a dining room with placemats already set on the long shiny table.
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Miles,” she commented as they finally entered the gourmet kitchen.
“Thank you. You can call me Kim, please. Can I call you Ruth?” She ushered her to the island to sit on a stool. Anderson followed and sat next to her.
“Yes, please.”
“You don’t hear that name so much in young people today,” Kim said as she poured waters for everyone.
“No, you don’t. I was named after my mother’s grandmother. Her name was also Mary Ruth.” She nodded in thanks for the drink as Kim sat down. She could feel Anderson’s eyes on her. She couldn’t remember if she told him that before.
“It’s pretty,” Kim said, smiling.
“So, you work for Andy?” Dan asked. He was leaning against the cabinets near his wife.
“Yes, I have worked for Anderson for five years now, but I have worked in the office for almost a dozen.” Ruth took a drink, hoping they stopped asking about the office. Maybe they would realize right away how little she did for Anderson.
“Has it been an insurance office the entire time?” Kim asked, interested.
“Yes. Before Anderson, I worked for Frank Berg the entire time. He always sold insurance.”
“But you never thought about selling?” Dan asked.
Anderson chuckled beside her as if his dad had told a joke. Did he think that the idea of her selling insurance was preposterous? That she wasn’t smart enough?
“No, I never really was interested in it. I know quite a bit about the whole industry, but I am happy that Anderson took over the claims process. Frank always made me type those out for him. They are the reason I have such fast typing speeds.” She chuckled at the memory of those long days after a storm of just typing out report after report. Eight hours were a dream in those days.
“You had to fill those out? I don’t let anyone but the agent fill those out,” Dan said.
“They are easy once you get used to the process. For me, the harder part is when people call with complaints saying that their claims are too low or their deductibles are too high. Explaining that is always harder,” she told Dan.
Anderson stiffened beside her. “I don’t get complaint calls.”
“Don’t worry, Anderson,” she said, turning to him. “I have taken care of them, and there’s hardly any now. People are used to you.”
“I have never gotten a call about that stuff,” Anderson argued.
“I know, your personal assistant takes care of it. That’s her job.” Ruth tapped him on the leg.