Page 20 of All's Well that Friends Well

I have my wallet. I have my purse. Do I need anything else?

No. I’m good. So I go up to the room India and I share and grab the shoes I’m wearing today—classic pink pumps, the same color as my jacket and skirt. They give me a good four inches in height, and—if I do say so myself—they make my legs look amazing. I walk well in them, too, so I’m not worried about cleaning in them.

The drive from our house over to Main feels both longer and shorter than it ever has in the past. My knuckles are white as I clutch the steering wheel, my fingers drumming nervously.

Still, I’m a fake-it-til-you-make-it girl, so I force myself to straighten up and stop fidgeting.

I am composed and calm and ready for this job. I am not terribly clean at home, but that is because I’m not getting paid to be clean.

Here,I think as I pull into the parking lot of Explore,I will be the best janitor they’ve ever had.

Explore is a building I’ve passed before, but I’ve never actually shopped here. Most of the buildings lining Main aresmaller, partly because they’re original to Lucky, back from when the town was first established. Even the ones that aren’t original are still old, and any modern decor meshes well. There are strands of lights over some parts of the road, giving it a twinkling, small-town feel; little trees and cheerful flowers line the street. Everything is bright and quaint, especially with the mountains and vivid blue sky as a backdrop.

Explore is newer—two stories, with a larger footprint. Although, I notice as I cross the parking lot, my gaze taking the place in, it doesn’t have that cold, urban look that many larger buildings have. It still fits in with the rest of Main. The red brick exterior lends an air of warmth, and the sign over the storefront looks similar to a lot of the neighboring shops—colorful, slightly faded from the sun, cheery and inviting.

Someone designed this place intelligently. Lucky is a welcoming town, but I don’t know how we would handle a sleek, corporate monstrosity right smack-dab in the middle of Main.

A thrill of nerves shivers through me as I step up the curb and onto the sidewalk. I’ve been trying not to think about it, but the fact is that Lucky is as small as it is friendly. Most places you go you’ll recognize someone, even if it’s just a friend’s parent or someone’s cousin or the school’s old lunch lady.

Am I going to run into somebody I know here? And if I do, who will it be?

I stop in front of the entry, inhaling deeply and then letting the air out. The door jingles when I open it, and I’m hit with the smell of rubber—bike tires, I think. There’s a row of them hanging from the ceiling on the far wall. The man behind the counter looks up at me, his eyes bleary, but his brows jump as he takes me in.

“I’m starting in the office today,” I say. I point at the back of the store. “Stairs…?”

“Yeah,” he says faintly, pointing over his shoulder. He’s maybe a little younger than me, still pimple-faced, and based on the tired way he’s slumped on his stool, he would clearly rather be asleep. “Back there.”

“Do you happen to know where HR is once I get to the second floor?”

“Uh, at the far end of the hall, I think,” he says, his voice still faint.

I nod and force myself to ignore his scrutiny. “Thank you,” I say.

Theclip-clip-clipof my heels on the polished concrete floor is the only sound as I go to the back of the shop and then climb the stairs. I emerge into a carpeted hallway significantly warmer than the shop downstairs, and the rubber smell has dissipated. The carpet is a neutral dark blue, the walls cream, everything very practical—like Luca, really. I guess I’m not surprised.

I head down the hallway, my eyes on the door at the end. There’s no sign or tag outside, but the door is cracked, so I knock faintly and then let myself in. The woman behind the desk looks up at me over the rim of her glasses, her brows climbing as she glances over me.

She gives off an aura of severity, maybe because of the frown lines around her mouth or the tight pull of her hair. She’s probably a bit younger than the man I met at Luca’s, but not by much.

Still, despite all these things, I like her immediately. I’m good at reading people; I always have been. And this lady might be a bit scary with her furrowed, steel-coloredeyebrows and beady eyes, but I think that’s more of a no-nonsense thing than it is actual meanness.

Plus I heard somewhere that those lines around your mouth can actually come from drinking from a straw a lot. Maybe this lady likes drinking through straws.

“Hi,” I say brightly to her as I step further into the office. It’s even warmer in here than it was in the hallway. “My name is Juliet Marigold. I was just hired. Is this HR?”

“Yes,” the woman says in a skeptical voice.

Susan,I see when I glance at the nameplate propped neatly on the reception desk.Susan Miller.

“It’s nice to meet you, Susan,” I say.

Susan does not look like she feels the same way. But she doesn’t say anything, so I go on.

“Like I said, I was hired recently to be a janitor. I’d love to go ahead and fill out my paperwork, if you’ve got a minute?”

Susan’s slow gaze travels over my outfit, but there’s no judgment there. Then she stands up, pursing her lips and adjusting her glasses. “Come with me, then,” she says without looking back at me.

And though I have no idea why, it feels like I’ve passed some sort of test.

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