"Thank you. It smells good."
"Do you normally work on
Saturday?" Rona asked as she sat back down to her own coffee.
"It's not a regularly
scheduled day, but I usually go in most Saturdays. I meet with clients who have
problems scheduling appointments during the week."
"You mentioned you did
something with investments, but I don't remember which company you're
with."
Anna sipped her coffee.
"I'm a Certified Financial Planner, or C.F.P., but I'm no longer
associated with a bank. I used to work for Bank of America, but a little over a
year ago, I decided to go out on my own."
"What does a C.F.P.
do?"
"I help clients with
their investment portfolios and basically provide advice on all aspects of
their financial picture."
Rona had never possessed
enough money to worry about investing it. Not knowing how to respond, she
changed the subject. "It looks like the roads are worse today. It snowed
again last night."
Anna grimaced. "I know,
but this client I have the meeting with is one of those self-made old ranchers
who doesn't believe in letting anything get in his way. He made millions in the
oil business back in its heyday and was smart enough to sell out fast when
things started going sour. I called him yesterday to reschedule, but he
insisted that we meet today. He'll be flying down in his helicopter."
"Where does he
live?" Rona blurted out when she heard he was flying over.
Anna chuckled. "His ranch
is north of Midland."
"Wow. How did he find
you?" She stopped, embarrassed by the rudeness of her question. "What
I meant is—"
Anna waved her off.
"While I was still with Bank of America, I received a referral for a woman
who had bank accounts with us but had her investments elsewhere. She was
unhappy with her current advisor and was looking for someone else. While
glancing over her portfolio, I noticed that almost half of her investments were
in Enron stock. I recommended that she balance her portfolio by diversifying
into several different sectors. She mentioned my suggestion to her father, who
also followed my advice. All of this occurred a few months before the whole
Enron fiasco. By diversifying, they didn't lose their shirts. When I left the
bank to go out on my own, they transferred their accounts to my new firm."
Anna peered out the kitchen window. "I dread driving in that mess."
"It won't be so bad.
Traffic will be light. Take your time and don't make any sudden turns or stops.
If you start to slide, remember to tap your brakes and steer into the
slide," Rona automatically repeated all the warnings her father would
issue to her mother with each new snowfall. She took a sip of coffee, disturbed
that she had actually sounded like him.
"It sounds as though you
know what you're doing."
Rona shrugged. "I grew up
in Michigan."
Anna joined her at the table.
"How would you like to start that temp job a couple days early?"
"You really don't want to
drive, do you? You did fine yesterday."
Anna shook her head. "I
was just driving the few streets over to Julian's, and I was petrified the car
was going to slide into something. The thought of driving all the way downtown
..." She shuddered.
Rona chuckled. "All the
way downtown is only about thirty minutes away."
"There's a big difference
between thirty minutes of smooth driving and thirty minutes of slipping and
sliding," Anna pointed out. "Besides, it's not just the road
conditions that concern me. I'm worried about getting hit by all those other
drivers who will be driving as badly as I am."
Rona shook her head.
"Everyone will be as scared as you are. They'll all be driving like little
old ladies on a Sunday afternoon."
"So, you'll drive?"
Anna asked, looking at her hopefully.
Rona couldn't keep from
grinning. "Yes, I'll drive," she agreed.
They jotted a note to Tammy
and left the house as soon as Anna finished her coffee. Since the interstates
were still closed, they were forced to take the side streets into the city. By
the time Rona finally pulled into the
"Do you normally work on
Saturday?" Rona asked as she sat back down to her own coffee.
"It's not a regularly
scheduled day, but I usually go in most Saturdays. I meet with clients who have
problems scheduling appointments during the week."
"You mentioned you did
something with investments, but I don't remember which company you're
with."
Anna sipped her coffee.
"I'm a Certified Financial Planner, or C.F.P., but I'm no longer
associated with a bank. I used to work for Bank of America, but a little over a
year ago, I decided to go out on my own."
"What does a C.F.P.
do?"
"I help clients with
their investment portfolios and basically provide advice on all aspects of
their financial picture."
Rona had never possessed
enough money to worry about investing it. Not knowing how to respond, she
changed the subject. "It looks like the roads are worse today. It snowed
again last night."
Anna grimaced. "I know,
but this client I have the meeting with is one of those self-made old ranchers
who doesn't believe in letting anything get in his way. He made millions in the
oil business back in its heyday and was smart enough to sell out fast when
things started going sour. I called him yesterday to reschedule, but he
insisted that we meet today. He'll be flying down in his helicopter."
"Where does he
live?" Rona blurted out when she heard he was flying over.
Anna chuckled. "His ranch
is north of Midland."
"Wow. How did he find
you?" She stopped, embarrassed by the rudeness of her question. "What
I meant is—"
Anna waved her off.
"While I was still with Bank of America, I received a referral for a woman
who had bank accounts with us but had her investments elsewhere. She was
unhappy with her current advisor and was looking for someone else. While
glancing over her portfolio, I noticed that almost half of her investments were
in Enron stock. I recommended that she balance her portfolio by diversifying
into several different sectors. She mentioned my suggestion to her father, who
also followed my advice. All of this occurred a few months before the whole
Enron fiasco. By diversifying, they didn't lose their shirts. When I left the
bank to go out on my own, they transferred their accounts to my new firm."
Anna peered out the kitchen window. "I dread driving in that mess."
"It won't be so bad.
Traffic will be light. Take your time and don't make any sudden turns or stops.
If you start to slide, remember to tap your brakes and steer into the
slide," Rona automatically repeated all the warnings her father would
issue to her mother with each new snowfall. She took a sip of coffee, disturbed
that she had actually sounded like him.
"It sounds as though you
know what you're doing."
Rona shrugged. "I grew up
in Michigan."
Anna joined her at the table.
"How would you like to start that temp job a couple days early?"
"You really don't want to
drive, do you? You did fine yesterday."
Anna shook her head. "I
was just driving the few streets over to Julian's, and I was petrified the car
was going to slide into something. The thought of driving all the way downtown
..." She shuddered.
Rona chuckled. "All the
way downtown is only about thirty minutes away."
"There's a big difference
between thirty minutes of smooth driving and thirty minutes of slipping and
sliding," Anna pointed out. "Besides, it's not just the road
conditions that concern me. I'm worried about getting hit by all those other
drivers who will be driving as badly as I am."
Rona shook her head.
"Everyone will be as scared as you are. They'll all be driving like little
old ladies on a Sunday afternoon."
"So, you'll drive?"
Anna asked, looking at her hopefully.
Rona couldn't keep from
grinning. "Yes, I'll drive," she agreed.
They jotted a note to Tammy
and left the house as soon as Anna finished her coffee. Since the interstates
were still closed, they were forced to take the side streets into the city. By
the time Rona finally pulled into the
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