Nerves flutter through my stomach with the anticipation alone. It’s almost enough to make me race up the steps, but for what? To demand answers? The sound of his steady breathing by my ear comes to the forefront of my mind, the heat of his body pressing into me. I can’t move, still shaking from the shock and confusion of it.
“So . . .” Claire’s already settled back behind the front desk. I hadn’t noticed the Christmas-red clip pulling back the top layer of her blonde hair until now, and she’s slipped a matching cardigan over her white top. “Got any plans for today?”
My feet are still cemented to the ground at the bottom of the steps. I forget to think before I answer with, “Lock myself in the bathroom. Cry. Loathe the world and make up imaginary friends.”
Silence fills the room. I finally look over my shoulder and see her wide eyes and unhinged jaw.
Too much?
“Kidding,” I say, silently reminding myself why it’s easier to lie—polite questions like hers don’t pair well with honesty.
Proving my words to be true, her entire body relaxes, and she lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Yeah, of course.” Her gaze shifts to the staircase I’m frozen in front of, and she tries again. “Well, um, Ashwick’s really big on town events and stuff, and there are plenty of winter festivities coming up over the next couple weeks if you’re, like, bored or looking for stuff to do while you’re here. It’s more fun than it sounds.” Her eyes brighten up as a light bulb goes off in her head. “You can go with me! I participate every year.”
Shocker. Her proud grin and the eagerness in her eyes beg me to accept. I know I won’t go, but I don’t have the heart to straight up decline either. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I unglue my feet from the floor and am about to take the first step when the email I sent Bobby crosses my mind.Think I’m going to settle in for a bit, get comfortable. Get a job.
I don’t know how long I’ll end up staying, but I’m here now, and there’s something that feels right about it. Maybe the small-town vibe’s growing on me. Not to mention I’m stranded here without my truck. I’m sure I’ll figure out a replacement vehicle with the insurance company eventually, but I’m not exactly in a hurry to get back behind the wheel anytime soon.
“Hey, Claire?”
She beams. “Yes?”
“You guys aren’t hiring by chance, are you?”
“Oh Lord, do I wish we were! Could seriously use the company—I’m going out of my mind with how quiet this place is.” She snorts between a bubbly chuckle, then glances at me and stops herself, clearing her throat. “Sorry. So you’re thinking of staying?”
I shrug a shoulder. “For a little while.”
“That’s great! You’re going to love it here, I just know it.” Her enthusiasm is so genuine, the corners of my lips tip. “Except, it’s not the easiest place to find work. You know, more people than jobs and all that.” She chews on her lip.
“It’s okay,” I say, already beginning to change my mind. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll think of something.”
I resume the stairs and am halfway to the second floor when she calls my name. I pause to glance back.
“There is one opening I know of…” She looks away and drums her fingers on the desktop.
An unexpected spark of relief surges through me, and I cautiously come back down a few steps. A job. Something stable. Secure. And away from my room. Away from imaginary presences. “Yeah?”
“It’s not exactly aneasyjob…”
“Okay . . .”
“And it might totally not even be your thing at all so—”
“Claire.”
“Right. It’s a caregiver position to an elderly gentleman.”
I practically skip down the remaining steps to get back to the front desk. “That’s definitely my thing. I wasn’t getting paid for it, but for years I took care of my—” I gulp, not wanting to invite further questions by mentioning Grams aloud. “—of someone elderly.”
“Great.” Claire smiles, but she doesn’t look entirely convinced. “It’s just . . . it’s not so much your experience they’d be interested in as your, um, ability to handle difficult people . . . ?”
A frown pulls at my lips.
“Mr. Blackwood, that’s the gentleman’s name,” she continues, “he doesn’t exactly like visitors, so he’s not the most welcoming. What he does like is his liquor, if you know what I mean. No one’s lasted more than a few weeks, and even that’s a record because, these days, no one seems to make the cut to begin with. Hence, the ad goes out every month like clockwork.”
I raise an eyebrow. “An alcoholic, too? Sounds like the job was made for me.” Claire opens her mouth, but I continue, “Do you have the guy’s info? A number?”
