In Practice

(To read from the beginning, click here)

As she sat in the waiting room, trying hard not to scratch from the wool tickling her skin in the heat, she felt a little overwhelmed. Magazines like Fortune and Forbes were arranged in perfect fans on the coffee table beside her. She could hear the drip of the coffee machine and fought the urge to help herself. She could use a cup of coffee but worried that she would spill on her white Jones New York shell – the one nice piece of professional clothing that she personally owned. Instead, she fidgeted with the sleeves of the suit jacket, pulling them over her hands, hiding her fingers and silently vowing once again to stop biting her nails.

Jim’s surprise at her appearance was obvious. It showed on his face as Shirley, his secretary, led Katie into the office. His eyebrow rose almost mockingly as he offered her a seat. Katie, conscious of her diminutive stature, eased into one of the cushy leather chairs fearing that she might altogether disappear into it, her feet barely touching the floor. She clasped her hands together in an effort to stop fidgeting. She couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. She had always been the self-confident one. But staring up at Jim, she suddenly felt four years old.

Jim, on the other hand, looked every bit his age. His hair had grayed and begun to thin, leaving tufts around his ears. Years of playing golf without any protection from the sun had resulted in fine crinkles around his eyes. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue and white pinstriped oxford shirt with a paisley tie kept tight with a small gold tie clasp in the shape of the scales of justice. It was exactly how Katie pictured a successful lawyer.

He picked up a leather portfolio, shuffled some papers and was silent for a moment.

“I see you went to Temple University,” he said, staring at what must have been her resume.

“Yes sir,” she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Jim smiled.

“And I can tell that you’re from the South from your accent. My wife grew up there, outside of Greensboro, North Carolina.”

“Oh,” Katie said excitedly, “That’s where my grandmother is from. I’m from the other part of the state, though, in Hampstead, on the coast. It’s about an hour north of Myrtle Beach…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed that Jim didn’t seem to be paying attention.

Damn it, Katie. Stop being so chatty, she scolded herself silently.

Jim looked up abruptly.

“What section of the Code governs transfers with a retained interest?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Katie replied, confused.

“What section of the Code governs transfers with a retained interest?” he repeated impatiently.

“Um, I’m afraid that I don’t know,” answered Katie.

“What section of the Code deals with the marital deduction?”

“Um…” Katie began.

“Generation Skipping Transfer Tax?” he queried.

Katie let out a long sigh. What was with this guy? True, she wanted the job, but a test on Internal Revenue Code sections?

“I don’t know the numbers,” she said quietly.

Jim looked up, annoyed.

“I don’t know the numbers,” she repeated, speaking up a bit. “I don’t work that way. I don’t memorize Code sections or case law. I don’t know all of the Constitutional amendments in order. I don’t.” She paused. “But I know estates. I know everything there is to know about completing a federal estate tax return. I’ve read everything that I can get my hands on with respect to estate administration. I used to clerk at the IRS, I know their procedures inside and out. I’m good at what I do. I just need a chance to prove it. If you need someone who can recite numbers for you, I’m definitely not what you’re looking for. But if you’re looking for someone who really knows what she’s doing, then I’m your…” She struggled against saying “girl” and instead finished emphatically with “ideal candidate.”

There, she thought. “I’ve said my piece. He’ll either throw me out or give me a chance.

Jim considered her her with an amused look on his face.

“You’re hired,” he said. “You start tomorrow.”