Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Gosh.” She breathes out in awe. “You’re so… so… put together.”
I don’t know whether to wince or laugh, but I blow it off in the only way I know how—by making fun of myself. “Benefits of marrying rich and having an amazing prenup. Don’t ever get married without one.”
Janelle looks down at her clothing. She said she grew up in the country, but I don’t know what that means. She’s not wearing overalls and cowboy boots. On the contrary, she’s dressed as trendy as young girls can get with skinny jeans, a loose blouse tucked into the front, but only on one side, and a pair of ballet flats. She has on a lightweight cardigan, and her purse, while not couture, is Kate Spade.
She either comes from money, or she doesn’t and Riggs is now providing her wardrobe.
“Is what I’m wearing okay?” she asks, eyes going from me to Clarke. “Riggs said casual was okay.”
I’m the one to assure her. “You’re dressed perfect. I’m overdressed, but I’m working on breaking that nasty habit.”
Janelle frowns at me, likely confused that I clearly have money, clearly take advantage of it, but deprecate myself in a backhanded way for having it. I’m all kinds of screwed up over my position in this world now that I’m not married to a Livingston, a family name synonymous with “we’re richer than God.”
“Veronica has been my right-hand man for so long, she probably knows more about running the bookstore than I do,” Clarke explains, shooting me a disapproving look over the way I get down on myself. It was likely too subtle for Janelle to pick up on, but Clarke always sees it for what it is—embarrassment that I am who I am right now. She continues on, “Veronica will train you since you’ll be doing what she normally does here.”
Janelle’s eyes flick to me with a tentative smile and then back to Clarke. “And what exactly is that?”
I decide to answer since I’m going to be the one training her. “We’ll start off with my least favorite job and one I cannot wait for you to take over, which is cleaning the bathrooms. Which means the toilets.”
Janelle wrinkles her nose. “I thought I’d be stocking books or something.”
I laugh and reach out to pinch her cheek. “Oh, precious child, there are so many things to do here at the bookstore. We’ll start with the toilets.”
♦
Resting my forearms on the checkout counter, I stare into the stacks where Janelle is stocking books. I enjoy watching her. She’s a young woman with an intense curiosity in everything she does and a surprisingly good work ethic for her age.
It’s true that I started off showing her how to clean the bathrooms. I exaggerated about the toilet part as Clarke has a janitorial crew that comes in the evenings. But every day, we need to make sure there is an adequate supply of hand towels and soap as well as make sure it’s generally tidied after use. If Janelle was relieved she didn’t have to scrub toilets, she didn’t let on. She listened intently as I explained what to do and where the cleaning products and supplies are located. Anything I’ve asked her to do so far, she’s done without a single complaint.
She is quiet, though. Since her initial gushing apology to explain why she was late, she’s definitely not the bubbly chatterer that Clarke and I are, even though we’ve tried to engage her in conversation. She’s polite but never volunteers anything. Clearly, she’s slow to trust others with who she really is.
In other words, she might be a tough nut to crack.
Her demeanor changed slightly, though, when we got to the actual book-related stuff that comes with working in a bookstore. The first thing I taught her was how to take a weekly inventory so we can match it with the electronic inventory tracked with software based on sales. I explained that very rarely are the numbers off, and when it does happen, it’s usually only by one book, once in a blue moon. That usually indicates someone has stolen something, which sadly occurs.
Funnily enough, Clarke and I have discussed potential ways to better secure the store against such theft. We could install detectors and put tags on the books, or we could install security cameras. Ultimately, Clarke decided, and I agreed, that if someone needed a book that bad and didn’t have the money to buy it, she would rather them have the book. That’s just the way Clarke is—and why she’s my best friend.
Now, as I watch Janelle unloading books from a rolling cart, I take pleasure in seeing the wonder in her eyes as she pulls out each one. These books have already been looked over for quality by me or Clarke and entered into our system as current stock. They now make the journey from the supply room to the stacks for customers to peruse.