Page 63 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“This is so gross.” George shoved a broom at a teetering stack of partly eaten postcards.
The cards scattered to the floor, releasing a cloud of dust that made him cough. “Good one.”
She smirked at him and threatened to knock over another stand of dust-lined books.
“You better not. Not unless you wish to do more cleaning again.”
“I’m so over cleaning,” George moaned. “Why did we ever agree to this?”
He levelled a look at her.
“Fine. I know why. It was to get you out of the doldrums and back in the land of the living again.”
He snorted. Then accidentally inhaled more dust, which set him coughing again.
She laughed, and he took unholy pleasure in the fact that she started coughing too.
“Serves you right.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think that maybe Liv was being a little too optimistic in wanting this all done so soon?”
Yes.But saying that aloud sounded disloyal. Especially when the woman herself was taking on all kinds of chores to make this happen. Without pay. For him. “I know it’s a lot, but in some ways giving yourself a deadline like this means we can all work hard, and then it’s done.”
“Ifit gets done,” George muttered. “We might get this place clean, but I just don’t see how we can have anything to stock here in time for Friday.”
“The gift shop might need to be put on the back burner for a while.” Which was a shame. The interest in opening this weekend would likely result in a lot more visitors who might take advantage of their meagre supplies.
The door was dragged open with a protesting screech. Liv. “Here you are.”
He straightened. Hoped he wasn’t wearing dust like George was.
“Here we are,” George said. “And there you are, but without a reporter now.”
“I’m so sorry about that.” She glanced at him. “I don’t think he saw you, so you’re okay.”
“How did it go?”
“Good. I think. I hope. He might have some contacts for us to find a photographer.” She looked at the room. “Hey, this room is looking better than before.”
He supposed she meant to sound encouraging. “Anything has to be better than before.”
She smiled. “Do you need a hand?”
“Always,” George said.
“Don’t you have a tonne of other things to do?” he asked.
“Always.” She shrugged. “But after talking with Gerald my brain is just ticking so fast I can’t settle.”
“What are you worrying about?”
“Everything.” She shot him a glance. “Not that I’m worried it won’t go well. I guess I’m just hoping that we have all the contingencies in place. I’m starting to think that trying to do all this to open on Friday was too much of a long shot.”
“Hey, where did optimistic Olivia go?” George teased.
She winced. “Is that what people are calling me?”
“No.” He liked her enthusiasm. Liked the way she believed things could be done. It made a huge contrast to how he’d lived for so long. “I like the fact that you’re positive about things.”
