Page 6 of Of Potions and Honey
“Do you think I’ll get fired if I just don’t go back for the afternoon?” Rue muttered between bites of her tamales. “I think he’s going to yell at me again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He just had that face on when I left.”
“He always has that face on.”
A deep sigh. “He does, doesn’t he.” She nudged Mira, who only barely didn’t drop her deliciously fatty beef skewer. “At least you won’t have to put up with that much longer?”
“What? Why?”
“The house. You can use the cash to tide you over until you find a better job.”
“I never said I’d quit.” Mira licked a drop of juice from her thumb, trying to pretend that she hadn’t been thinking about it herself. “Besides, it probably won’t amount to much. The houseis all right, but it’s been modified for the shop, and Emberglen isn’t exactly the place everybody wants to be.”
“You said it was a nice town.”
“It is, it’s just… declining, is all.”
That was her biggest concern. Mr. Bowen had assured her that he would find a buyer, that he already had a client or two in mind, but at the end of the day, more people were moving out of Emberglen than even went there for a visit, never mind willing to buy a house and settle down. A nice town was all well and good, but if there wasn’t much there, people didn’t tend to jump on its real estate.
“Nothing to live in, then?”
Mira paused. “I don’t think so. There isn’t much there, and I doubt the stores are in dire need of new employees.”
“Mhm.” Rue looked like she was thinking rather hard. “What about your stories?”
Mira groaned. “Please. That’s nowhere near enough. And even if it was, I’d still be stuck away from everything. I don’t fancy a four-hour train ride just to see a film every once in a while.”
Though that would also put her four hours away from the usual crowd who thought yelling at the person behind the till was an acceptable form of communication. Upsides and downsides, Mira mused.
Rue chuckled. “Ah, you have a point.” She patted Mira’s shoulder. “But hey, at least it’ll cover the rent increase.”
They were careful to return almost five minutes early. This, however, did not seem to please their manager, who sharply reminded them that they had ‘shamelessly abandoned their tasks’ when they had taken their legally protected lunch break. Mira bit her tongue and forced another apology before she wentto finish unboxing some decorations for the upcoming flower festival. After, she spent a solid hour basically trailing a pair of customers who seemed to try on everything and put away nothing. Around halfway through inspecting no less than nine different sundresses and putting them back on their hangers, she heard her name yelled across the shop floor.
“Miss Gardener!”
She draped the dress she was holding across a rack and speed-walked down the aisle, to where Mr. Lewis was standing next to the rumpled remains of the sweaters she and Rue had arranged just this morning.
“What is this?”
An aggravating mess, but he could probably see that. “Someone probably looked for their size and didn’t find it,” Mira said instead. “I’ll get to-”
He drew himself up to his full, if somewhat unimpressive, height. “Oh, don’t bother, youclearlyneed some rest, seeing as you can’t even keep up with your usual tasks.”
Mira felt the heat creep into her cheeks. “I was just by the dressing rooms, and-”
He waved her off. “Oh, I understand. Excuses, as usual. You lot always have a reason. Get back to whatever you were wasting your time on, it seems I will have to handle this myself.”
“Mr. Lewis-”
“Now,” he said curtly. “And report to me after your shift, I’m afraid we will have to discuss your performance. Again.”
Mira took a deep breath and managed to keep the obscenities to herself. “Of course.”
She turned and stalked away, seething too much to even plaster her usual professional smile on her face. Not a single customer directed a question towards her as she returned to the dressing rooms, only to find a dozen more pieces piled on top ofthe dress she had left. Mira grit her teeth. She’d probably have to steam the damn thing before she could put it back on the floor.
She spent the rest of her shift cleaning up messes that seemed to reappear again minutes later, answering the same question about where something was approximately six-thousand times, and weathering the pitying glances from both Rue and the co-worker manning the till. They were probably glad not to be the target today, but at least a few words of encouragement would have been nice.
