I don’t have a chance to say anything else to Aaron because Chloe comes back with his pails of primer on a rolling cart. “I’d ask if you need the cart, but I know you better than that.”
“Just means I can get away with one less set of bicep curls.” He swipes his credit card, pays for the paint, and grabs one handle in each of his huge, baseball-mitt hands. When he lifts them, the muscles in his arms bulge and the veins pop. They remind me of snaking tree roots with how thick they are.
“Good luck with the paint job.” He barely glances in my direction before he’s heading toward the front of the store, leaving me staring at his annoyingly perfect butt wrapped in worn denim.
Chloe helps me with the paint; she’s far more knowledgeable than I’d expect a high schooler to be, but I find out she’s been painting houses as a summer job for the past two years, and she works at Harry’s in the morning and takes classes in the afternoon so she can save money for college.
Once my paint and wallpaper supplies are taken care of—she must ask ten times if I’m sure I want the yellow—I head over to lighting and pick out the fixtures. I’ll need furniture and kitchen supplies eventually, but this is a solid start.
As I’m waiting my turn in line to check out, I notice the HELP WANTED sign posted near the customer service desk. The guy working the cash register looks to be in his seventies, or maybe a bit older based on the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles.
“Do you know what position they’re hiring for?” I ask as I hand over my credit card.
I’ve been living rent-free all my life, so I should have lots of money saved up, but the reality is I used to spend my paychecks as soon as they hit my account. It wasn’t until we had to move that I recognized the lifestyle I’d been living wasn’t one I could afford—I was on my way to digging the same hole my father dug for himself.
I took a course on money management, and over the past six months I’ve been able to squirrel away a decent chunk of change, but I’m going to need a job if I don’t want it all to disappear.
The man, whose name tag reads Chuck, pushes his glasses up his nose. “Oh, yes ma’am, I surely do. I’m retiring, and they need someone to take my shift. I betcha they’d love to have a pretty face like yours helping out round here.”
I smile and thank him, pushing down the insecurities that I’m used to—that people expect me to be just a pretty face. An empty vessel that’s nice to look at but can’t contribute much to society apart from being pleasing to the eye. And I don’t feel like I’ve done a great job of proving those people wrong so far.
Once I’ve paid, I take my purchases out to my car, load it all into the trunk, and return the cart. I stand outside the store entrance, debating whether or not I should apply for the position. I’m friendly and can work a cash register. It’s worth a shot.
I wish I were dressed more appropriately—say, in a pair of jeans and some kind of plaid or a T-shirt—but I’m not backing down now.
There’s a woman around my dad’s age standing behind the customer service desk. She turns to address me. “Welcome to Harry’s, how can I help you today?”
I point at the HELP WANTED sign. “I’d like to apply for the position if it’s still available.”
She glances up at the sign, then back at me, her expression curious. “Do you happen to have a résumé with you?”
“I sure do.” I pull one from my purse and pass it over.
She takes the résumé and scans the front page. Her name badge reads Noreen S., Assistant Manager. “Personal assistant to the CFO of Smith Financial? A bachelor’s in business administration?” She glances up at me. “You’re a little overqualified for a position as a cashier, Teagan Firestone, is it? Would you happen to be related to Van?”
“He’s my older brother. I’m hoping to move to Pearl Lake, and I feel that I’d make a great addition to your team. I’m great with people, organized, and I’m very reliable.”
She gives me a small, somewhat uncertain smile. “You know, they’d probably love someone like you over at Bernie’s.”
“Bernie’s?” I tip my head.
“The town lawyer. He’s been complaining about not having enough help lately.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, then. I’d still really like the opportunity to work here, though.” And I don’t know if I can handle another rejection.
She regards me for a few long seconds. “The position is only for one shift a week right now.”
“That’s fine with me. When can I start?” I cross my fingers and hope like hell this is me getting a job.
The phone rings. “Just hold on a moment.” She takes the call, turning her back to me while she has a low, whispered conversation. She hangs up a minute later and turns to me with a smile on her face. “It looks like you’re in luck. One of our employees called in sick for her afternoon shift. Can you start now?”
“I absolutely can.”
“Why don’t you fill out the paperwork, and we’ll get you a shirt and I’ll show you around the store.”
“That sounds great.”
She extends her hand over the counter. “I’m Noreen Saunders. Welcome to the team, Teagan.”
“Saunders? Does that mean you’re related to Aaron? He works for Footprint Construction with my brother’s fiancée, Dillion.”
“Yup, sure am. I’m his mother.”
“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Noreen.” The six-degrees-of-separation thing is strong in this town.
CHAPTER 4
MAKING MY OWN WAY
Teagan
As it turns out, the person whose shift I’m working this afternoon happens to work at the paint counter. Chloe gives me the rundown and shows me where to find the contractor accounts and the discount codes before she leaves.
It’s not busy, so I spend my time reorganizing the color display, putting this year’s most popular colors in their own section before I line up paint chips and wallpaper combinations. My shift is over before I know it, and Noreen, who has come to check on me periodically during the day, stops by to see how things are going.
“Oh, wow.” She motions to the wall display. “Did you do all this?”
I worry I’ve overstepped. “I can put it back the way it was if you don’t like it. It got slow there for a while, and I wanted to stay busy.”
“Oh no, don’t do that. It looks great. Harry keeps talking about getting a professional display organizer to come in, but it’s expensive,” Noreen says and gives me a warm, reassuring smile. “And now I guess he doesn’t have to worry about the expense anymore.”
“Harry is the owner?” I ask.
“Yup. He’s Harry Junior and took over this place from his dad. I think he’ll be real happy with this, Teagan.”
“I hope so.” I know what an interior decorator costs, so I’m sure a display organizer doesn’t do too badly. I’d never considered that it could be someone’s job, but I can see how setting up something that’s visually appealing can help sales.
“I’m sure he’ll want you to do the same thing for our other departments,” Noreen says.