The serving woman was all but running back and forth from the kitchen now, constantly delivering fresh food or removing dirty dishes. From time to time, she snagged drinks from the bar and managed to serve them without sloshing.
“You look busy. Would you like an extra—”
“Nope.”
Tasia looked into the hard eyes of the barman and knew his answer wouldn’t change. She tried a different approach.
“Do you know of anyone else who might be hiring?”
The man paused his mug-wrangling to sigh heavily in her direction. “ ’Fraid not.”
“Well, then.” Tasia pulled her posture upright again. “Thanks anyway.”
She didn’t hear a response as she turned her back to the bar and aimed for the door. Furtive looks and narrowed eyesfollowed her from the tables. Exiting to the inn’s yard felt like an escape.
For a moment, Tasia stood in the warm sunshine and wondered what she should try next. Raised voices from the stable nearby got her feet moving. She might as well start with the shops she could see from here.
None of the businesses set around the tiny village plaza wanted to hire her. The chandler claimed he produced too many candles as it was. Nothing came of visiting the mercantile beyond a warning to purchase something or leave. The bakery left her with a rumbling tummy and a hard no. And the blacksmith took one look at her skinny arms before laughing her out of the forge.
Thanks to her wanderings, Tasia had overheard talk of a large lumber mill deeper in the forest. But when she asked about it, the villagers couldn’t—or rather, wouldn’t—point her in the right direction. The constant rejection had left her feeling critical. Both the inn and the mercantile had been overwhelmed with customers. There was no way they didn’t need extra help. The only place that Tasia truly believed didn’t need help was the miniscule library. In response to her query, the ancient librarian had raised one white eyebrow and pointedly looked at the single shelf of neglected books. Most of the volumes were Verified Histories with a visible coating of dust on their yellow leather covers.
Exhausted and discouraged, Tasia threw herself on the wide edge of the well. She was weighing the odds on how fast her outsider status would get her kicked out on the courtyard when an elderly woman sat beside her. The little old lady had been shuffling across the open space so slowly, Tasia was mildly surprised when she stopped. She was even more surprised when the woman turned and smiled at her.
Swallowing her shock, Tasia grinned and greeted her new best friend. The polite gesture fed the tiny flame of hope that hadn’t burnt out yet.
“I hear you might be looking for a job.” The woman spoke in the wavering tones of the very old.
“You heard correctly. I’m about to start knocking on doors to ask if I can pull weeds.” A self-conscious laugh leaked out of Tasia.
“No need for that.” The woman shook her head dismissively. “You can work for me.”
Cautiously optimistic, Tasia tilted her head. It seemed unlikely that the octogenarian would want to hire her for something nefarious, but that didn’t mean it was a real job, either. “What sort of work?”
“I’m not from around here,” the woman began. Tasia’s heart sank. No wonder this stranger was willing to talk to her.
“I come into town for the quarterly dances.”
Tasia politely nodded.
“I don’t live that far away, as the harpy flies, you know. But the main road doesn’t cut straight through. It’s a long, roundabout way, and I have to hitch a ride in a wagon.”
Tasia made a noise of sympathy.
“These old bones can’t travel in a bumpy wagon too often. As it is, I’ll be laid up for days when I get home.” She sucked on her teeth. “That’s not the real problem. Therealproblem is my medicine.”
“Oh?” Tasia sat up, certain this conversation was finally heading somewhere.
“I get it from an apothecary here in town, but it doesn’t keep. I need a new delivery every week.”
“Who delivers it for you?”
A gusty sigh left the woman’s hunched frame. “I haven’t been able to secure stable help since my last gal got married and had a baby.”
With a few more nudges and a bit of gentle prodding here and there, Tasia pulled the necessary details out. She would only need to visit the apothecary once a week to pick up the medicine, the journey was about two hours one way, a guide would help her out the first time, and the pay was more than double what she would have made in a week at the inn.
After bidding the woman, who insisted she be called Grandmother, a farewell, Tasia returned to the Galanis home triumphant. Even the sight of the breakfast dishes that had been left for her—plus the addition of the lunch plates—didn’t dim her enthusiasm. She had accomplished what she set out to do. And Stavros couldn’t kick her out now! The patriarch was satisfied with her success, Anthi was thrilled that Tasia could still help out around the house during the week, and Pagona couldn’t be torn away from the mirror where she sat primping long enough to share an opinion.
In an abundance of caution, Tasia had told Stavros that she could contribute an amount that was half of what she would be receiving from Grandmother. Anthi declared it to be a generous sum, and her husband didn’t seem to find anything amiss. That night, Tasia fell asleep (with Chara’s legs across her belly) mulling over how and where she could hide the extra money.
