She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Dan Trenton on a daily basis, but since she didn’t have a car and train times were irregular, a job in the village really was ideal.
And if she got a job, even one stocking shelves at the post office shop, she’d have something to show her parents and brother, something to prove that she was actually making a life for herself here.
Even if it didn’t feel that way. She hadn’t seen Lucy or Abby or really anyone since her walk to the beach; the weather had been horrendous, at least compared to Portugal. Gusty wind and spitting rain, although that morning the sky had been blue. For about fifteen minutes. She’d forgotten how absolutely awful the weather could be here, although there was something strangely cozy about it too. Sitting snugly inside with a cup of tea while the heavens opened did make one feel safe.
Now Claire stood in front of the village shop and checked that the help wanted sign was still in the window. Of course it was. Who really wanted this job?
Rain blew into her face, and she wiped her cheeks of moisture before stiffening her spine along with her resolve and heading inside.
No one was by the till, and the shop had an empty feel to it. Claire stood there for a moment, her gaze wandering around the shelves of dusty packets and tins, before she decided to go around to the back, where the post office was.
Dan Trenton was just coming from behind the post office counter with its wall of Plexiglas, and he was moving at a clip that nearly had Claire smacking into his concrete wall of a chest.
She took a hasty step backwards and Dan grabbed her by the arm. “Whoa.” He righted her even though she hadn’t actually been losing her balance and then released her with a scowl. “You again.”
“Yes, me again. I wanted to ask about the job. Again.”
Dan moved past her to the till and then turned, his arms folded. Claire glanced at one of the tattoos: the name “Daphne” with an intricate design of vines and flowers around it.
“I thought you weren’t sure how long you were staying.”
“At least six months,” Claire said firmly. “Probably longer.” She was lying, because she had no idea how long she’d end up being here. But she wanted this job. The more Dan resisted, the more determined she felt to get it, to actually achieve something on her own merit.
“Do you have retail experience?”
“I worked in real estate for the last four years, showing villas to prospective buyers. That’s kind of like retail.”
His lip actually curled. “You don’t need to showcase a tin of beans. I’m talking about handling money. Working a cash register. Basic stuff.”
“Well then, no. But I could learn. I’m a quick learner.” Dan looked unconvinced and no wonder. She was a decidedly slow learner. “I could really use a job,” she added, hating that she’d resorted to begging, and so quickly. Dan Trenton did not seem like the kind of man who would be moved by pity. “And I’ll work hard. Promise.” Still nothing. “It’s not like you’ve a queue of people lining up to interview,” she finally burst out.
“I’m choosy.”
“Clearly.”
She held his gaze even though it was hard, and her breath too because this was incredibly nerve-racking. Then he gave one short, terse nod.
“Fine. You can work on probation for a fortnight, four days a week, at minimum wage. Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday do you?”
“Yes—”
“You can start tomorrow?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Eight o’clock sharp.”
“Okay. Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Dan Trenton didn’t answer.
She headed back up to Four Gables without seeing anyone. The misting rain had upgraded to a downpour and the wind was starting to gust, which meant the handful of commuters trickling from the train station were walking with their shoulders hunched and heads down. One man was uselessly holding a soaked newspaper over his head, the thin paper coming apart in his hands, and a woman had made the mistake of opening her umbrella, which immediately blew inside out, revealing its bent spines.
Claire tried to give her a smile of sympathy, but the woman wasn’t looking. No one was in this weather, and so she hurrieddown the street towards the beach road and then up to her house.
She had a job. After wrestling with the latch in the wind, Claire closed the front door of Four Gables behind her and leaned against it. She actually had a job. The first job she’d gotten all by herself. She knew her parents would scoff at her working in a shop; so would Andrew, for that matter. They were all ruthless academics, but working in a shop was more her speed, surly Dan Trenton aside.
“Claire?”
