Letting her talk through her nerves doesn’t seem to be helping. I was sure it would, and when she was finished speaking, she would be calmer, and I could offer some reassurance that someone in town will hire her, but it must be too raw for her to relive being her mother’s caretaker.
What she needs now is a distraction. Something to take her mind off the pain, even if her frustration shifts from the people she’s about to meet in town to me. It has to help at least a little. “You’ll get a job. More importantly, however, I can’t find the broom. Do you know where it is?”
“Uh, I,” she stammers, her brown eyes swirling with confusion. She looks as if she’d prefer to yell at me about the quick dismissal of her misery, but is stuck on the answer to my question. “I…Yeah, I used it to sweep the floor in here last night. The dust was making me sneeze. I put it in the closet with the vacuum.”
It’s an honest mistake. I can’t fault her for it. “Splendid. Just so you’re aware, the broom is kept in the pantry in the kitchen.” I go to leave when I hear Natalie scoff.
“Why would you keep it in the kitchen?” she asks.
“Because it’s closer to the front door, which is where I’m going now. To sweep.”
The pacing has stopped, and now she’s looking at me as if I’ve grown two heads. I suppose my distraction worked.
“You’re going to sweep the stuff that lives outside, to another part of the outside, and then you’re going to bring that broom back inside and put it away in the pantry? Where all the food is?”
She doesn’t understand. “The front steps are covered in acorns. It looks sloppy. I won’t tolerate it.”
“Why don’t you just wait for the wind to take care of it? Or the squirrels?”
“Or why don’t I just wait for winter to come and let the snow cover it? Let the elements destroy the wood and the earth wrap its vines and roots over it completely?” I reply, trying to show her how drastically she’s missing the point.
“So wait,” she begins, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re obsessed with the neatness of the exterior of the house, but not the decades of dust covering the entire interior?”
“I wouldn’t sayobsessed.” When she says it like that, she makes me sound like a buffoon. It’s not that I like having dust on every surface, but it doesn’t bother me as much as the acorns do. Plus, dusting is my least favorite chore. If it’s not bothering me or getting in my way, I see no need to fixate on it. I refuse to engage with her question. “Just put it back in the pantry from now on.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she replies. “The broom belongs in the closet with the vacuum and the other cleaning supplies. Besides, I don’t want to encourage ants or other pests that might cling to the bristles of your ratty old broom to start eating the food in there. Not unless you plan on cleaning it after you sweep outside.”
“The broom is a cleaning tool. Why would I clean the cleaning tool? Would you also like me to wash the outside of the washing machine?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll just buy another broom, and we can designate that one as the indoor broom. Leave the other one outside or in the shed.”
“That’s a complete waste of money,” I protest. “No house needs to have more than one broom. I could make one myself by the time you get back from your job search.”
“A broom is probably ten dollars. It’s fine. And if it ends this conversation, it’ll have been worth the cost.” She pulls a pair of white socks from the dresser and sits on the edge of her bed as she puts them on.
“I didn’t realize you were rolling in cash,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “See, I thought you were here because you had no money and no place to go.”
“Oh my god. You know what?” She throws up her hands. “I wasn’t planning on leaving for another half hour, but I might as well start my job search early.”
Grabbing her purse off the dresser, she stomps past me down the stairs toward the front door.
This woman is maddening.
“Bye, weirdo. Hope you’re happy.”
Am I happy? Yes, because Natalie is now marching toward the very task that had her pacing in fear just five minutes ago. Once I hear her car head down the steep drive, I realize how quiet it is without her.
That, I’m not happy about.
Chapter 7
Natalie
No one in Mapletown is hiring. Not the florist, not the coffee shop, the pizzeria, the bookstore, the occult shop, the grocery store, or the bakery. The owners seemed nice enough, but I got the feeling that even if they were hiring, I wasn’t going to be considered a candidate. I don’t know why. It didn’t seem like it had to do with my resume. Most barely glanced at it before telling me they didn’t have any open positions. Maybe it’s all in my head, and this tiny town is fully staffed. I’m probably imagining the unwelcome vibe I was sensing, and if there’s one thing I’ve clocked ten-thousand hours doing, it’s overthinking. I’ve reached expert-level.
After I swing by the home goods store on the edge of town for a broom, I take the long way home. Winston is going to be relentless with his mockery when he finds out my job search was a bust.
How did Nonna Penny put up with his obnoxious ass? Maybe she was less particular than I am and let him make whatever house rules he wanted and followed them to a T because she was too exhausted to care. I can’t imagine any other way to live with him without wanting to smother him with a pillow.
