Page 51 of Hell to Pay

“There’s a hold light on her line when she wants you to hold her calls,” Meredith explained. “I’ll show you when I explain the phone system. If that’s on, take a message. Just don’t knock on her door or otherwise disturb her if it’s closed.”

She gave me a meaningful look which I understood to mean Be prepared to get your ass chewed if you bother Mayor Maxwell when the door is closed.

Okay then.

After that we went back to the greeter’s desk in the lobby, which Meredith said would be mine on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She showed me how to use the phone system (the hold light was lit on the mayor’s line), which didn’t turn out to be too complicated, and gave me a log-in for the computer, plus my company email address and a brief intro to the office’s shared calendar system.

It was all super official and grown up, and a half hour later she was gone, telling me to let her know if I had any questions.

The phone rang as soon as she was out of sight. I hesitated, then answered.

“Blackwell Falls Mayor’s Office, how may I help you?”

“Yeah, hi.” The voice on the other end of the phone was cheerful. “This is Jules at the community garden for Terri.”

“One moment please.” I was like a preprogrammed robot, sounding all official even though I’d never done this before in my life.

I looked at the extension list Meredith had pulled up on my computer and transferred the call to Terri’s line, then breathed a sigh of relief when the light stopped blinking, indicating that Terri had picked up.

It felt good to be doing something, anything to take my mind off of Matt.

He’d been more animated when I’d dropped him off at school, and I wondered if it was because of his plans to go kayaking with the Bastards. It felt scary to let him go — I was responsible for him now — but I wanted to give him this, this glimpse of something else, while I had the chance.

I spent the next few hours answering the calls that came in and getting familiar with the calendar system and the purchase-order generation software Meredith had showed me. I’d use that to order office supplies, and I started a list of things I needed to do, starting with an inventory of the office supplies we already had.

The supply closet was in the hallway next to Phillip’s office. I’d count everything and try to get a feel for whether the office was low on everything and then… I didn’t know, email everyone to see if there was anything they needed before I generated the purchase order?

That sounded right. I was definitely a little out of my depth, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I might not have had a college degree, but I reminded myself I was smart and resourceful. I knew how to figure things out because I’d been doing it alone for a long time.

I walked to the deli for lunch, feeling like a real adult. I shouldn’t have spent money on a sandwich, but I hadn’t brought anything from home — I tried not to think too hard about the fact that the mountain house felt more like home than my apartment now — since I hadn’t known the break-room situation. I told myself that it was a celebration lunch, something I deserved for getting a new job, a good job, and then sat at one of the tables outside to eat it during my lunch break.

I felt refreshed by the time I went back to the office to relieve Terri, who’d watched the phones while I was gone.

By three p.m. I was feeling pretty confident I could handle the job. The phones didn’t ring that often, and I’d already done an inventory of office supplies and sent an email to the group labeled ALL OFFICE asking if anyone needed anything.

Matt had already been picked up by the Bastards, and I tried not to worry about how it was going or whether he’d be okay kayaking when he’d never kayaked a day in his life. The Bastards weresoldiers, reckless with themselves but not with other people. Matt couldn’t be in better hands.

I was organizing the receptionist’s desk — it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned out in years — when another call came in. I answered the phone reflexively as I held up a piece of paper from the back of the desk’s top drawer.

“Blackwell Falls mayor’s office, how may I help you?”

“Yes, this is Jean-Luc Laurent’s office calling for Mayor Maxwell.” The woman’s voice was crisp, with an accent that sounded French.

The hold light for Mayor Maxwell’s phone was lit, meaning she wasn’t taking calls.

I set down the receipt (dated ten years earlier) I’d found in the back of the desk and tabbed to the messaging program on the computer.

“I’m sorry, Mayor Maxwell isn’t available at the moment. May I take a message?”

The woman on the other end of the line let out an exasperated sigh. “I have left messages. It’s been months since the… incident involving the Cantwell Resort. Monsieur Laurent demands to know when his investment in the villa will be released to him.”

I froze, organizing the pieces of what she was saying around what Daisy Hammond had told us when we’d gone to her house. I didn’t see how the mayor could help any of the villa owners get their money back — I’d read the unfinished resort had been seized by the FBI pending the investigation into Piers Cantwell’s alleged illegal activities — but what did I know?

“I can… Um, I can let Mayor Maxwell know.”Get it together, Lilah. Do your job.“Would you like to leave a message?”

“Yes, fine.” The sigh again. “Please tell Mayor Maxwell that Monsieur Laurent insists on an update. She has the number.”

“I’ll pass it along,” I said.

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