Rose blinks. Her eyes are small and pale blue-green, like sea glass; the rest of her face withered, like the ocean continues to relentlessly pound it.
“Just get it done,” she says, but then she adds a brief smile. It is so quick, almost as if she is simply exercising her mouth muscles, barely anyone would notice.
But Taylor does.
Given her age, Rose likely would have been at the Knox when her mom was, Taylor realizes. They could have crossed paths. Maybe Rose noticed her mom dining in Canton’s Restaurant the same way Taylor noticed—and admired—the stylish women there the day she did the wine inventory. And Rose was certainly around during Vivian’s time. Taylor’s hopeful that Rose will continue to warm to her; perhaps she can eventually ask her.
Between DeLuca’s Market and the liquor store, Taylor is able to find nearly all the items on the list: food, blue cheese olives, prenatal vitamins—they sure seem to think of everything for their members and guests. The one thing she can’t seem to get a hold of is crème fraîche. She doesn’t know what it is, but apparently it’s used to accompany caviar. Go figure. Taylor has to track it down at Savenor’s, a gourmet grocer.
While waiting in the checkout line there, she notices the headline ofThe Boston Globe:Boston’s Hospitals Overwhelmed by Overdoses.
Wow. She certainly witnessed the beginnings of this uptick when she was still working at Mass General. Clearly when Aunt Gigi reached out to Taylor about the multiple nursing openings at the substance abuse clinic, she wasn’t kidding.
Taylor feels grateful to be away from all that. She finds she can’t help but still observe medical things in her day-to-day, as if she wears an avatar nurse skin. But the more she becomes immersed in the Knox, the more she believes she will be able to shed it. At some point, the only covering she wants to wear is a designer one.
“Cash or credit?” the cashier now asks as she scans the container of crème fraîche.
“Cash,” Taylor replies, forking over the money.
As the cashier gives her change, Taylor eyes the assortment of candy bars for sale. She’s tempted to purchase one with cash from the Knox. She’s hungry; she’s skipped lunch, after all. And it’s not like Rose told her to turn in the receipts. But she’s too much of a scaredy-cat. What if this a test? What if this is part of that trust thing Liam and Eduardo were alluding to?
“And I’ll also take this chocolate bar, but I’ll use my creditcard to pay separately for it,” Taylor says, as she pulls out her wallet to hand over her card.
“You dropped this,” a woman’s voice says from behind. Taylor turns; a woman, with one kid clinging to her legs and another in a stroller, thrusts a small, folded white paper at Taylor.
“I don’t think so,” Taylor says.
“You did. Just now, when you pulled your credit card out, it fell out of your wallet.”
“Oh, okay, thanks,” Taylor says, taking the paper.
“You need to sign,” the cashier interrupts, pointing to the screen.
Taylor shoves the paper into her wallet. Probably an old receipt, she thinks.
When she’s done shopping, she has fifty-three bucks left over. She’s used to stretching her dollars, making every one count. To have any excess now feels indulgent, even though it’s not hers, and even though she knows this is chump change for the Knox.
She wonders how exactly the money works at the Knox. What does a minimal digital footprint mean? She had to fill out a W2, so there’s a payroll system for the employees, but the others mentioned that the bonuses they receive are done in cash. This is a surprise; she hadn’t realized there would be bonuses. When she worked in nursing in North Carolina, all she got was a mug or a penlight at Christmas, if she was lucky. Oh—and the families of patients brought in cookies. Lots and lots of cookies.
“The bonuses come when we have big events and parties. And, of course, the end of the year,” Eduardo had explained.
“Is there…a big event coming up?” she asked, hopeful.
“The biggest. The initiation. Butwedon’t work that, only Rose does,” Liam said.
“We do the preparations for it, though,” Eduardo added. “And they recognize that.”
What kind of cash bonuses are they talking about? She has absolutelyzeroframe of reference. Twenty dollars? Two hundred dollars? Or even more? Something in the four digits? She gulps with the thought.
Rose dismisses her when she returns to the Knox, groceries in tow.
“Next week the members will be back from the retreat,” Rose says, as if Taylor needs any reminding. “It will be busy but just follow my lead.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Loud thumping and drilling noises create vibrations in the foyer, where they stand. The work is clearly far from done.
“Have a good weekend,” she adds, to Taylor’s surprise.
“Uh, thanks. You too, Rose.”
