Page 20 of You, As You Are

Being called into the boss’ office wasn’t that uncommon for either of them. Gareth was a decent guy, liked to have check-ins with his employees every other week. Iain always said that things were fine by default. It was easier than the truth which was that he was bored out of his little brain of this mundane life. But this time, as he stood and flattened down his mandatory tie and shirt tucked into navy trousers, he didn’t feel like he was going to be asked if he’d touched any grass recently.

He stood himself in the doorway of Gareth’s office in the back of the showroom, the hole where his boss managed problems that were above Iain’s pay grade to care about. “Is something wrong?”

“Take a seat.” Without looking up, his boss gestured across his desk.

Iain curled down into the plastic chair, hands linked between his thighs.

Elbows dropping on the desk, Gareth dragged his hand over his blonde bristles of a beard. There was maybe ten years between them, Iain didn’t really know, but only one of them here had a house above theAfon Ystwyth?*overlooking the marina.Only one of them actually shared any passion for the various wood cabinets and ceramic sinks out there.

“I don’t want to have to say this,” Gareth began, “but we’ve got a problem.”

The dread that people normally felt when their boss said ‘we’ve got a problem’didn’t swell in Iain’s gut like maybe it should’ve. “Okay.”

“Your performance last year was … not what we would hope for.”

Ah.Here it was: the day that he’d been waiting for.

“I like you,” Gareth continued, “and I like to think that I’m a good boss, but if your sales don’t improve then we’re going to have to look at alternative arrangements.”

It wasn’t the hardest code to decipher to say that he would be let go.

This was the first job Iain had taken when he’d moved to Aber. He hadn’t cared what it was; he’d just needed something to hold down the mortgage he’d taken out to live here when his world had collapsed. It was safe to say that his passionsdidn’tlie with kitchens and bathrooms. Aside from rugby and hiking, Iain didn’t think that he had any. None he could make a living from if he walked away from this job. He couldn’t justgowhen he had nothing else to walk away to, years of savings sunk into a wedding that never happened, and mortgage repayments to make on his one-bed terraced house. Then there was Ted as well to think about feeding, too.

What was he, a farm boy with no qualifications or real talents, supposed to do?

“So I’m … not being fired?” he clarified, just in case he’d misunderstood.

“Correct.”

The man was an idiot. Gareth looked at him with a self-satisfied slant in his lips as though he was the saving grace that Iain needed. In truth, he should’ve been fired months ago.

Iain pulled himself together with a forced push at enthusiasm. “What would you like me to do?”

“First” — Gareth rolled his chair back and pulled a freshly printed sheet of paper from the tray of the printer, the wet ink permeating the air — “these are your sales and billed consultations per quarter from last year. These are Mari’s and my own. Andthisis the target that I want you to reach.”

Fucking hell.Iain followed the blunt tip of Gareth’s finger across the sheet of tables and charts. His numbers weren’tsobad – not so terrible as he’d thought – looking at them next to Mari and Gareth’s. But there was a definite dip below his name. The new target, though, was optimistic at best. Gareth wanted him on par with Mari. BubblyMariwho could sell wool to a shepherd. It was doable, he supposed, if he actually smiled more and received a personality transplant. But there was little in his dull world that could make him actually care.

“I know that you were going through a few things when you joined us,” Gareth said in a coddling tone that was almost insulting, “which is why I’ve been lenient. But it’s been eighteen months. I can’t let things slide much longer, so I’m going to give you eight weeks to make this turnaround.”

Iain knew that he should just suck it up. He was thirty-five and acting like a child doing the bare minimum on their homework. This job might not be ideal, but it kept food on his table and a roof over his head.

Still, he had to get out of this rut.

* Good afternoon

* River Ystwyth

CHAPTER SEVEN

MAISIE

“Okay, turn just a little.”

Vera took her chin an inch more towards her shoulder, and the stack of three daisies dangling from her left ear caught the ring light just right.

“Perfect,” Maisie said, taking another few photos on her phone.

She’d managed to finish up the daisy earrings on Saturday evening after soaking her tired hips in a well-deserved bubble bath, adding gold loops and post studs to form a dangling chain of three. Florals usually sold well in her spring collections – no surprise there – so she’d made up thirty sets of daisies to go with the tulips, wildflowers, bunnies, and boho geometric styled sets she’d pre-made so far.

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