Never touch the Family’s private belongings unless you have permission.
BE RESPECTFUL
Absolutely no gossiping about the Family, their business, or their private lives.
Remain quiet at all times in the house; phone ringers must be on silent.
Use “sir,” “ma’am,” “please,” and “thank you” when speaking with the Family.
BE RESPONSIVE
If anyone in the Family makes a request, we get it done, zero questions asked.
“No” is not part of your vocabulary; figure out a way.
Do it now; if someone has to ask you about the status of a task, you’ve waited too long.
BE A TEAM PLAYER
No arguing with your supervisor or other domestic staff, even in domestic spaces.
Outside visitors require prior approval; no overnight visitors in quarters.
No unmade beds, dirty quarters, or leaving messes in the shared domestic spaces.
Track [7] “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us”/Sparks
Fen
It took me exactly twominutes and forty-eight seconds to move after Jane left the store. That’s the running time of “September Gurls” by Big Star, which played over the speakers while I stared over the record stacks, cataloging all the things she’d told me.
All the things I’d said wrong. I could tell by the way my aunt was giving me her disappointed face that I’d screwed up. And once I replayed everything in my head, by the way Jane reacted to me.
Everything goes from atranquil twoto atense tenfor me these days.
Regret gnawed at me from the inside.
When the song ended, Haley came in to work a closing shift on register. And I took full advantage of the fact that I could now leave the sales floor. My mind wasn’t on work anymore. It was on Jane’s face. And how I’d made her so unhappy in such a short amount of time.
How Eddie could ruin my beshitted life when he wasn’t even here.
Aunt Pari was chatting with a regular customer, so as soon asHaley clocked in, I dipped out, heading past anEMPLOYEES ONLYsign and ascending steps to the dark timbered balcony above the sales floor. When I got to the top, I threw open the door and was momentarily blinded.
Squinting away midday sun, I ducked into a light-filled office that perched over the back of the shop. It was chaotic: piles of packing slips and stacks of books on a sad couch that looked like it died in 1985. Don’t think the desk had been cleaned in twenty years. I was supposed to be helping Aunt Pari reorganize up here, but we’d only managed to make our way through about a third of the hundreds of records filed in cubbies lining the walls—stuff for our mail-order business and rarities that we didn’t put on the sales floor. A few scratched-up LPs.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was the office window.
What mattered up here was the perfect view.
Half of the far wall was glass, and it looked out over the lake. All you can see is blue water. Sky. Mountains. The edges of the town hugging the lake. The waterfall. You can see everything.
Everything.
You feel like you’re king of the whole damn town in here. It helps when you’re feeling like I felt at that moment. Filled with regret and bewildered.
But also—
Keyed up. Overwrought.
