Finally, Henry said:
“I have a question.”
“All right.”
“Why did you become a waitress?”
Naomi smiled.
“I thought you would ask that.”
“Then answer it.”
She told him the truth.
Her mother's death.
Her father's illness.
The university.
The debts.
The decision to work.
Henry listened without interruption.
When she finished, he asked:
“What did you study?”
“International relations and economics.”
“Not law?”
“I started law school.”
“You were studying law?”
“Yes.”
“And you stopped?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My father needed me.”
Henry nodded.
“Would you go back?”
Naomi looked at him.
“I don't know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't know if I can afford to.”
Henry smiled.
“You have one hundred thousand dollars.”
Naomi laughed.
“That doesn't mean I can stop working.”
“Who said anything about stopping?”
He reached into his briefcase.
He placed a folder on the table.
Naomi opened it.
Inside was a proposal.
She read it carefully.
Then looked up.
“What is this?”
“A position.”
“As what?”
“Business consultant.”
Naomi shook her head.
“I've never worked as a consultant.”
“I know.”
“I've never managed international accounts.”
“I know.”
“I don't have the experience.”
Henry smiled.
“That is why I am offering you a junior position.”
Naomi looked down again.
The salary was more than twice what she made at the restaurant.
There was health insurance.
Retirement.
Education assistance.
Travel opportunities.
She looked at Henry.
“Why me?”
“Because you listen.”
Naomi frowned.
“That's it?”
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“Last night, while everyone else was trying to impress me, you noticed that I wasn't comfortable.”
Naomi remembered.
Henry continued.
“You understood my questions before I asked them. You knew when I wanted clarification. You noticed when one of my associates was uncomfortable with a particular phrase.”
He smiled.
“You weren't simply translating words.”
“You were translating people.”
Naomi was silent.
Henry continued.
“Most people think language is vocabulary.”
He shook his head.
“Language is intention.”
Naomi looked at the contract.
“What exactly would I be doing?”
“Research. Client communication. Market analysis. Translation. Eventually, negotiation.”
“Eventually?”
“If you prove yourself.”
Naomi smiled.
“That sounds like another bet.”
Henry laughed.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“This one has no humiliation attached to it.”
Naomi looked at him.
“What happens if I fail?”
“You learn.”
“And if I succeed?”
Henry smiled.
“You'll probably surprise yourself.”
Naomi took the contract.
She didn't sign it immediately.
Instead, she went home and spent the night reading every page.
The next morning, she accepted.
Her first day at Lin International was terrifying.
Everyone wore tailored suits.
Everyone seemed busy.
Everyone spoke in numbers.
Naomi felt like an impostor.
Then she reminded herself of something.
She had already survived harder things.
So she learned.
She studied contracts.
She read financial reports.
She learned how investment firms evaluated risk.
She learned international trade regulations.
She learned the difference between a client who said “maybe” and a client who meant “no.”
She made mistakes.
Lots of them.
Once, she misunderstood a deadline and nearly cost the company a major opportunity.
Another time, she misinterpreted a cultural reference during negotiations.
Her supervisor called her into his office.
“You have potential,” he told her.
“But?”
“You have to stop being afraid of being wrong.”
Naomi nodded.
She went home that night and wrote those words on a piece of paper.
Stop being afraid of being wrong.
She taped them above her desk.
Months passed.
Then years.
Naomi became better.
Much better.
She discovered she loved negotiation.
She loved finding the point where two sides could both walk away believing they had won.
She understood numbers.
But more importantly, she understood people.
At the end of her first year, Henry promoted her.
At the end of her second, she was managing several international accounts.
At the end of her third, she was leading negotiations.
By the fifth year, she had become one of the company's most trusted executives.
Her life changed.
Her father received better medical care.
Naomi bought a small apartment.
She returned to university.
She completed an advanced degree.
And she never stopped working.
The restaurant became a distant memory.
But she remembered table twelve.
She remembered Victor Hale.
She remembered the hundred thousand dollars.
Sometimes she wondered where he was.
Then she stopped wondering.
Until seven years after that night, Victor Hale walked into her office.
Naomi was reviewing a development proposal when her assistant knocked.
“There is a Mr. Victor Hale here to see you.”
Naomi looked up.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
“Did he make an appointment?”
“No.”