That night, after Chris had rolled over and was lightly snoring, Augusta lay awake, thinking of the job listing. The wordsHarlowe House, Harlowe House, Harlowe Houseran through her mind like the beat of a drum. A signal of hope, a promise of something better.

Work the next day was eight hours of pure, unair-conditioned torture. They were understaffed that day—weren’t they always?—which meant Augusta was giving tours back-to-back, with little time to even go to the bathroom or grab a drink of water, never mind to hop on her laptop and fill out an application for the Harlowe House job. As busy and stressful as it could be sometimes, working at the Old Jail at least kept her busy, kept her mind from wandering and dwelling on all the unknowns and shortcomings in her life. Maybe it would be easier just to stay. It wasn’t her dream job, but at least she knew the routine and got along with most of the other tour guides. Dream jobs were for kids with trust funds and safety nets. Nothing would be worse than taking the risk of applying to a new job and then not getting it. If she was stuck here, then at least she wanted to be able to pretend that it was her own choice. It was the easy way out, but that was what was at the heart of it: if she was honest with herself about why she was playing it safe with her job, then what else in her life might she be forced to reexamine? Losing her dad and missing two semesters of school because of depression and starting over at twenty-two had been hard enough. Did she have it in her to make the leap and start again?

“Jesus, you look like you’re making Sophie’s choice over here,” a voice said, drawing Augusta out of her thoughts.

She looked up to find two of the other guides, Maureen and Vin. If she was going to be interrupted and interrogated by her coworkers, at least it was by the only two who she considered anything close to friends.

Maureen slid into the seat across from her at the circular lunch table, flicking her long black hair out of her face, while Vin examined the plate of muffins someone had brought in, finally choosing one. Maureen had light brown skin, penetrating dark eyes, and her full lips were perpetually pulled up at one corner in a crafty smile, as if she were plotting something.

“So?” Maureen asked expectantly. “What are you looking at?”

If anyone else had demanded to know, Augusta probably would have made something up to avoid having to get into a deep conversation, but Maureen had a way of getting Augusta to spill all her secrets. Maybe it was the genuine curiosity that lurked beneath her shrewd gaze, or that Augusta always found herself wanting to impress the cool girl with the dark eyeliner and green streaks in her hair.

“Just this job I found online. I’m thinking about applying.”

Maureen shared a look with Vin, who was popping muffin pieces into his mouth while he tipped his chair back, feet on the table.

“Finally!” Maureen exclaimed. “We’ve been wondering when you were going to start looking around for something better than this.”

She hadn’t been aware that her coworkers ever talked about her, let alone were concerned with her career. “You were?”

Vin finished chewing. Deeply tanned and freckled, Vin had a mass of dark curls that were only barely tamed into a pompadour for work, though he was forever running his hand through them, threatening to send them spilling out into a dress code violation. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we love working with you, but you’ve been here how long? Two years?”

“Three.”

“Three years! Most people only stay like, a year, tops,” Maureen said. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“I’ve only been here since June and I’m already looking for something else,” Vin told her.

Augusta began to get the creeping suspicion that she was the odd one out on an inside joke around the Old Jail. “You are?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. This is a great stepping-stone job, but no one can keep it up forever. Aren’t you bored and exhausted from giving the same tour all day every day? I know I am.” Vin scrubbed his hands through his curls, standing them on end. “I hate this uniform and I hate that Ron makes me ‘tone down’ my hair.”

“I’m just doing it for the money while I take night classes in biology and chemistry, and then I’m going back to school for my forensic science degree,” Maureen added. “God, if I’m still here in another two years I give you permission to put me out of my misery. I can’t answer another question about the witches from a tourist.”

Augusta bit her lip. It was easy to dismiss her own reasons for not wanting to stay, but it was much less so when it was spelled out in black and white for her by someone else.

“Here, pull up the application,” Maureen demanded, scooting her chair closer. “I’ll help you fill it out.”

Augusta started to protest, but it was no use. Once Maureen was determined to do something, it was as good as done. Pulling out her laptop, Augusta started filling out the application, with Maureen occasionally telling her to change a word or to give herself more experience in a certain area. When Augusta began to draft the cover letter, Maureen drifted away, shifting her attention to Vin and giving Augusta a chance to compose it.

Augusta looked over her application package one last time and hit Submit. There. It was done. There was no going back now. A giddy sense of lightness bubbled up in Augusta’s chest. She’d been brave, and now it was in the hands of the universe.

“Tilly had kittens. They are so cute it’s nauseating. Look.” Maureen thrust her phone in Augusta’s face, snapping her out of her thoughts. “My sister’s boyfriend is taking two of them, and Vin is taking the orange one with the white face.”

“I’m going to name him Bruce,” Vin said proudly.

Maureen rolled her eyes. “I’mnotgiving him to you if you name him that. You can’t name a cat Bruce.”

Shrugging, Vin resumed tipping his chair back to its precarious angle. “Then I refuse to bring you any more of my mom’s pandan cake.”

“You wouldn’t,” Maureen whispered, her face falling.

Vin smiled triumphantly. “Oh, but I would. Unless you let me name him.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst, but you know I’m obsessed with your mom, so fine.” Maureen’s gaze slid to Augusta. “Do you want one? I’d rather they all go to people I know, not randos off the internet or anything.”

Augusta looked at the video of the mewling little babies one more time, before reluctantly handing back the phone. “I would love one, but my boyfriend is allergic. We can’t have any pets in the apartment.”