He cleared his throat. “Would you…I mean, if you’re interested. Um, would you like to work here at the pottery barn?”
A job offer? That explained the nervousness. I almost smiled at how relieved I felt to have a reasonable explanation for his strange behavior.
“What kind of work?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.
“Helping wi-wi-with demonstrations. Talking to customers. Managing the business side of things if you-you-you’re comfortable with that.” He gestured around the barn. “You’re good with people, and I…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “I’m not.”
“I think you do a great job. Look how you handled everyone before I arrived.”
He flashed me a shy smile. “You’re being generous.”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little, but if I hadn’t shown up, you would’ve figured it out.”
He kept glancing at my wrists, enough that I held up my arms and examined them myself. They looked perfectly normal to me. Something about the way he looked at them made my skin tingle, like he was seeing what I couldn’t.
“What salary are you offering?” I asked, trying to sound practical even though I was already leaning toward yes. It wasn’t polite to ask what a position paid, but I had eighty-seven dollarsleft to my name. If I didn’t get this job, I wasn’t sure what I’d do next.
“I don’t know what’s fair. I’ve never hired anyone before. But Aunt Inla said the general store pays one fymsom chunk a week and the woman she recently hired seems happy with that.”
Ah, here we go. This might not work out after all, and my body slumped at the thought. I’d gotten my hopes up that I’d find a way to stay in this cozy place, but I might need to hit the road again soon.
Fymsom must be some sort of orc currency.
“Do banks take fymsom?” I asked.
“They do. We used it to buy this valley and build the town.”
“All of that?”
He shot me a tusky grin. “All of that.”
Alright, so maybe being paid in fymsom wouldn’t be half bad. “How big is one chunk?”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a thumb-sized piece of a rock that looked a lot like gold, placing it on his other palm, holding it out toward me. “We mine it in the mountains.”
Mine…
I blinked. “You mean it’s gold?”
“We call it fymsom.”
“Whoa.” I swallowed hard. “You’d pay me that much for a week’s work?” I wanted to snatch it from his hand and bite down on it. That’s what people did to test gold in old movies from what I remembered.
His swallow went down hard. “Is two per week better? I don’t want to underpay you for your skills.”
I wanted to cry or twirl around and laugh in the giddy way I hadn’t for a very long time. One gold nugget could probably fund me for a month or more and not at the cheapest motels. I could buy good food. Fruit and vegetables, something I rarely purchased outside of bananas and unpeeled carrots becauseeverything costs so much. The poor didn’t make bad food choices; they couldn’t afford to buy the good stuff most of the time. Food with nutritional value costs more than those without.
“Two then,” he said, thrusting the first out to me. “Take this one for your help yesterday.”
Now I truly did want to cry. “No, you don’t need to pay me for yesterday. That was just me wanting to help.” I nudged his hand back. “Keep it for now. You can pay me after I’ve worked for a week.”
“You’re sure?”
“Completely.” There was no way I’d take advantage of his offer.
The thought of a steady income, of not having to count every dollar and survive on cheap carbs, made my heart feel lighter.
“I’d also cover meals when we’re working together,” he added quickly, as if he was trying to sweeten an already amazing deal. “And there’s a lot to learn about pottery if you’re interested in that part too.”
