Five
First official day of work.
Bryar still grinned stupidly at the thought. Well, maybe there were other reasons she was stupidly grinning, but none she was willing to admit to herself. It wasn’t like there’d be a repeat of last night or as if that was going anywhere. Sure, she had Sawyer’s number but she wasn’t sure she’d call. And she didn’t give him one in return—how lame was it that she didn’t even have a cheap prepaid cell phone so had no number to give him unless she wanted him talking to her aunts? To be realistic, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d have called her even if he had the number. He seemed to like her, but that was last night. No telling what the next day would bring for him.
Still, she felt good. Relaxed. Happy. Wishing for more but determined to keep her focus on work today and nothing else.
She’d made a quick breakfast and skipped out before her aunts were up and about so she could be at Gina’s early. Her boss—seriously, weird to apply that word when Gina was her age and more co-worker-like—was at the shop between five-thirty and six most days since she did the baking. She’d wanted Bryar there by eight-thirty so she could go over basic duties, and then it would be on-the-spot training when it opened at nine. That particular day she’d work until one or two in the afternoon—it would depend on how busy things got—and then her next shift would be Monday afternoon when she’d learn about receiving orders.
Come winter, she’d probably have to break down and tell the aunts if only to have access to the family’s single vehicle on particularly snowy days, unless she hit a rainy day before that. Perhaps rather than just saving for an apartment, she should be planning to get a cheap car. Although living in town would forgo the need for a vehicle.
Or I could just sleep in my car . She snorted at the thought. Besides, she was getting ahead of herself. She had to keep the damn job first before she was going to get paid for it, and that meant getting her ass there on time.
She was at the shop by twenty after eight. The bakery was dark out front and the closed sign hung over the door, so she went around to the back. The gravel parking lot was empty but for a couple of “RESERVED FOR EMPLOYEES” spots behind some of the buildings, included Gina’s, and she found the kitchen light on. A brief knock at the door produced Gina, bright and chipper with her hair tied back under a kerchief and pink apron dusted with flour. She let Bryar in, showed her where to stow her coat and purse, and immediately went over the basics. Where everything was, the store policies in case of inquiries. Proper packaging of orders. Operation of the cash register and debit machine. It was a lot to take in—by the time Gina turned the sign to “OPEN” at nine, Bryar’s head felt stuffed full and at any moment the knowledge might come rolling out her ears.
But Gina simply smiled reassuringly. “You’re just shadowing me right now,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything on your own. It’ll come to you as you go.”
If you say so. But Bryar simply smiled in return and said nothing, despite starting to wonder if super nice Gina had just made a horrible mistake.
An hour later, she mused that it didn’t seem all that bad. Gina let her ring up her first order on her own by then—a patient customer who understood immediately that she was new—gently guiding her through the process until the transaction was complete and Bryar suddenly felt like she’d cured cancer and world hunger with the happy ding of the cash register.
By noon, she had a standard order Gina had prepared to deliver down the street at Lady in Red, the clothing shop. The shop’s owner, an elderly woman named Mrs. Lowe, had suffered a stroke some months ago and her granddaughter mostly ran things now. Still, Mrs. Lowe hung out in the shop and played cards early afternoon with some of her friends in the back, and
First official day of work.
Bryar still grinned stupidly at the thought. Well, maybe there were other reasons she was stupidly grinning, but none she was willing to admit to herself. It wasn’t like there’d be a repeat of last night or as if that was going anywhere. Sure, she had Sawyer’s number but she wasn’t sure she’d call. And she didn’t give him one in return—how lame was it that she didn’t even have a cheap prepaid cell phone so had no number to give him unless she wanted him talking to her aunts? To be realistic, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d have called her even if he had the number. He seemed to like her, but that was last night. No telling what the next day would bring for him.
Still, she felt good. Relaxed. Happy. Wishing for more but determined to keep her focus on work today and nothing else.
She’d made a quick breakfast and skipped out before her aunts were up and about so she could be at Gina’s early. Her boss—seriously, weird to apply that word when Gina was her age and more co-worker-like—was at the shop between five-thirty and six most days since she did the baking. She’d wanted Bryar there by eight-thirty so she could go over basic duties, and then it would be on-the-spot training when it opened at nine. That particular day she’d work until one or two in the afternoon—it would depend on how busy things got—and then her next shift would be Monday afternoon when she’d learn about receiving orders.
Come winter, she’d probably have to break down and tell the aunts if only to have access to the family’s single vehicle on particularly snowy days, unless she hit a rainy day before that. Perhaps rather than just saving for an apartment, she should be planning to get a cheap car. Although living in town would forgo the need for a vehicle.
Or I could just sleep in my car . She snorted at the thought. Besides, she was getting ahead of herself. She had to keep the damn job first before she was going to get paid for it, and that meant getting her ass there on time.
She was at the shop by twenty after eight. The bakery was dark out front and the closed sign hung over the door, so she went around to the back. The gravel parking lot was empty but for a couple of “RESERVED FOR EMPLOYEES” spots behind some of the buildings, included Gina’s, and she found the kitchen light on. A brief knock at the door produced Gina, bright and chipper with her hair tied back under a kerchief and pink apron dusted with flour. She let Bryar in, showed her where to stow her coat and purse, and immediately went over the basics. Where everything was, the store policies in case of inquiries. Proper packaging of orders. Operation of the cash register and debit machine. It was a lot to take in—by the time Gina turned the sign to “OPEN” at nine, Bryar’s head felt stuffed full and at any moment the knowledge might come rolling out her ears.
But Gina simply smiled reassuringly. “You’re just shadowing me right now,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything on your own. It’ll come to you as you go.”
If you say so. But Bryar simply smiled in return and said nothing, despite starting to wonder if super nice Gina had just made a horrible mistake.
An hour later, she mused that it didn’t seem all that bad. Gina let her ring up her first order on her own by then—a patient customer who understood immediately that she was new—gently guiding her through the process until the transaction was complete and Bryar suddenly felt like she’d cured cancer and world hunger with the happy ding of the cash register.
By noon, she had a standard order Gina had prepared to deliver down the street at Lady in Red, the clothing shop. The shop’s owner, an elderly woman named Mrs. Lowe, had suffered a stroke some months ago and her granddaughter mostly ran things now. Still, Mrs. Lowe hung out in the shop and played cards early afternoon with some of her friends in the back, and
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