My daughter drags her feet as she walks from the hallway to the dining table. She’s so adorable in her school uniform—I’ll never get over her being old enough to go to school.
“Eat up, sweetheart. We’ve got to get going soon.”
“Why?” She sits and picks up a slice of toast.
“We’ve got a builder coming today to start the renovations Mr Smedley’s organised.”
She pauses mid-bite. “Like Bob?”
I laugh. “Yes, just like Bob the Builder. Now finish your breakfast and brush your teeth so we can get out of here.”
Sophie’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
It’s been a tough few years but we have our routine now, and she’s such a good kid.
Once she’s ready for school, I drive the short distance to drop her off. With me working full time, Sophie’s in before and after school care. The day is longer, but we make up for it over the weekends by lazing around.
I live for those times.
After I’ve dropped her off, I head to work.
At twenty-four, I thought I’d be finishing medical school and moving onto clinical training. Instead, I started work at nineteen at a local casual clothing store and was promoted at the beginning of the year to store manager.
The owner and I just clicked. He knew Gran, and when he hired me, I worked my arse off to prove myself as I had my daughter to provide for.
He treats me like I’m his long, lost daughter—when Gran died two years ago, I grew even closer with him and his wife.
I think he was looking for an excuse to retire early and grabbed it with both hands as I showed an interest in all aspects of running the store. He still takes care of things like the budgets and accounts, but I manage the day to day operations.
I’m lucky my co-workers like me and none of them were interested in moving up in the business.
I get there on time to open up and let the staff of five in.
And then I go about my day.
I’m nervous about the renovations. I’ll have to juggle the store still being open while things are changed around—and I know nothing about the changes.
Mr Smedley’s not quite yet ready to let go of that.
“Cassie, could I get some help putting this stock out?”Colleen, one of the older ladies who’s worked here forever, asks.
“Sure thing.”
They get busy. We sell both men’s and women’s clothing, and although I’m now ordering stock, the lingering boss still sticks his nose in sometimes and more stock arrives than we can handle.
But we have learned to take things in our stride.
I get busy folding T-shirts, and between us, we’ve nearly got the display done when Mr Smedley walks in.
The man beside him does a double take at me, and I study him curiously.
“Cassie. I’d like you to meet Mark Burrows.” Mr Smedley beams. “This is my store manager, Cassie. She’s your point of contact for any questions you have about … well … anything.” He laughs.
Mark smiles and it lights up his whole face. He’s clearly older than me—I’m going to guess maybe thirty-fiveish, and when I shake his offered hand, it’s rough as if battered by years of hard work.
“Mr Smedley’s told me nothing about what’s happening, so I was hoping you could fill me in.” I grin.
I love my boss—most of the time.
