“I need to borrow your phone. Please.”
“Sorry, but it’s out of order.”
“You were just using it.”
“And it just broke.”
Harlow shifted from one sandaled foot to the other, frantic, looking for help. But the only other person in sight was Carol’s youngest daughter, Holly, a gum-smacking Goth who hadn’t stopped flipping the pages of her magazine.
While the youngish Holly hadn’t been a victim of Harlow the Bully, her older sister, Dottie, had. Carol had clearly not forgotten all the times Dottie had come home sobbing because of something Harlow had said.
Guilt stabbed at her. But dang it, she had paid for her crimes a thousand times over in the past two weeks alone.
“Fine,” Harlow said. “If you won’t let me use the phone, will you give me a job?”
“A job? For you?”
“I’ll work hard and never cause any trouble.”
Carol snorted.
“I’ll work for less money than anyone else.”
Finally. Interest. Smiling with glee, Carol abandoned the counter to walk a circle around Harlow. “Well, well. Look at you, desperate enough to scrub my toilets. Even though you once called this inn, my home, a dump of the lowest order.”
Harlow could feel herself caving in, her shoulders slumping, her head bowing. “I was wrong.” The place rocked, reminding her of home. Overhead was a chandelier made entirely from deer antlers. Strawberry-themed paper decorated the walls. Gray stone surrounded the fireplace, and there were scuffs on the wood floors.
“Well, before I agree to sign you on, you’re gonna have to show me you’ve got what it takes to work here.” Delight colored her tone, sending a cold chill down Harlow’s spine.
She took heart, however. This was the furthest she’d come in the “interview” process.
“Come on. There are thirty rooms,” Carol said, leading her through multiple hallways, portraits of strawberries hanging in every direction. They came to an open door, a cleaning cart in front of it. “If I decide to give you a chance, you’ll be responsible for every single room, every day. Guest or no guest.”
“Momma?” The voice drifted past the door frame.
Harlow tensed as Dottie entered her line of sight. A bit on the short side and a little plump, she looked like a child’s doll with her dark corkscrew curls and freckled skin. She’d registered on Harlow’s radar when she’d aced a test Harlow had failed.
For that, I called her hateful names and ensured everyone in school treated her like a pariah.
Dottie’s gaze landed on Harlow and narrowed. “How dare you show up here. Get out!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, a lump growing in her throat. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you when we were teenagers.”
“Watch me as I don’t believe you. The day you were born, the devil crapped his pants, knowing he’d finally met his greatest competition.” Dottie focused on her mother. “Why is she here?”
“Harlow came begging for a job,” Carol said, her glee escalating. “You, of course, will be her boss, and if she doesn’t meet your high standards, you can kick her out.”
Dottie opened her mouth, closed it with a snap. “Fine.”
The two weren’t going to give her a chance, were they? No matter how good a job Harlow did, she would be found lacking. Well, no matter. She would suck it up. Maybe she’d earn a few bucks in the process.
“Have fun, you two. Or not.” Carol left them to their duties.
“I need to make a call. I’ll be quick.” Harlow rushed to the phone on the desk.
“Slacking already,” Dottie said, her anger only intensifying.
Voice mail picked up. “Jessie Kay, it’s Harlow. I ran into Daniel and I’m so, so sorry, but I mentioned you’d once dated Beck and he acted like he didn’t know, and I’m sorry.”
Dottie snatched the phone and slammed it into the reciever. “One more infraction like that and you’re toast.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Put me to work. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Oh, I’ll put you to work, all right.”
And she did. The girl directed Harlow like a plow horse, harsh words her whip.
Is that all you’ve got?
You should be better at cleaning up shit. You’ve slung enough of it over the years.
I could do better with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back.
By the end of the day, Harlow’s pride stung—nothing new there—and her body ached, muscles she hadn’t even known she possessed now heavy and shaky.
“You did okay today,” Dottie said, folding towels and stacking them on the cart for tomorrow. They were in the laundry room, the air pungent with the scent of cleaners and disinfectants. “I’m not going to fire you.”
Shock swept through Harlow, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Really?”
“Is this the part where you ask for preferential treatment?”
“No. Of course not! But...does the job happen to come with free room and board?”
Dottie snorted, and Harlow took that as a no way in hell. “We start at six a.m. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.” Harlow hesitated in the doorway. “I meant what I said. I really am sorry for everything I—”
“Don’t,” Dottie snapped. “Save your apologies for someone who cares. We were kids. I’m over it.”