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An hour later she walked toward the black sedan that was now pulling up into the small parking area set aside for the boathouses along the dock nearby.
Jo was quiet on the drive over, looking out the window as they wound their way through unfamiliar streets. It was going to be tough here, living so far out with no car, but she’d have to manage until she could do better. The temptation to pull money from their joint bank account had been strong. There was plenty in there to get her by for a while and she deserved it.
Still, to do so would only make him angrier and he would not let it slide. Taking his car had been bad enough. If she took money, he’d be out for blood as he had never viewed her contributions to the household as anything more than what he termed pocket money.
Plus, if she had been going to do it, she should have done it before she left. It was best that she not reveal her location by going to an ATM and pulling out cash that would lead him right to her. Instead, she’d just have to make do. If this job didn’t pan out, she’d find something else to get by. She’d been here before.
She had been out on her own at an early age, so she knew what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck or, in her case, tip jar to tip jar. Nothing had been worse in those days than having a bad tip night and they always seemed to happen when you least needed the shortage. Waiting tables wouldn’t be at the top of her list for jobs, but if it was all she could get, she’d deal with it.
“We’re here,” the driver said, stopping the car by a curb.
“Is this a house?”
“It’s a home office, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, though it looks a bit industrial, the inside is set up like casual office space with some personal space on the upper level, I believe.”
“Weird. You’re sure we’re at the right place?”
“I’m positive, ma’am.”
Jo got out of the car and made her way toward her destination.
She looked up at the house with a hint of awe. It wasn’t really a house at all from the exterior appearance. It looked more commercial. The narrow windows and large steel roll up door gave it away as more of a warehouse or workshop. It was brick with black trim. She’d never seen anything like it.
This is where the service had sent her. She couldn’t imagine living here. It was very different from the cookie cutter suburban home she had shared with Carter. It was a bit rough, sensual in some way. She liked it in a way she had never experienced in looking at a house before. It was if it spoke to her; somehow called out to her.
Standing there, she was frozen. The warmth of summer had faded into the coolness of fall, taking over the night, lending its chill to the gray dusk that had begun to encircle her. Rain fell around her on the mostly abandoned street. No signs of life, outside her own, and the glimmer of light coming from the windows of her destination.
Though there were small houses along the street, they appeared dark, unoccupied . . . perhaps abandoned. No evidence of people, no cars lining the streets. The service she had contacted this morning had sent a car for her. The driver had said this used to be a small community, but most people had moved out, citing problems that seemed less than believable. He didn’t elaborate.
She continued to stand out front, contemplating this place, even as the driver disappeared down the darkened street behind her. Forcing herself forward, she made her way down the cobbled front walk and rang the bell. A woman answered, looking disinterested in who she might be or why she was there as she invited her inside.
“Come in out of the rain,” she droned, widening the opening between the door and its frame.
“I’m Jo Claybourne. I have an appointment with Mr. Harrison.”
“I know. You can leave your coat on the rack here in the hallway and have a seat in the front room to your right.”
The woman didn’t wait for a response. She shut the door behind Jo and disappeared down the hallway in front of them. Jo looked around. This didn’t look like much of a casting agency or office. It was an ordinary house that had been dressed to suit their purpose, whatever that was. She found herself wondering if this was a mistake.
“Ms. Claybourne?” a voice called out, just as she sat down.
Jo attempted to stand back up while still in downward motion and almost fell sideways. She caught herself on the arm of the sofa and stumbled forward, willing her body to remain upright rather than falling flat on her face pre-interview. She wobbled a bit and finally managed to achieve stability, smiling at the gentleman inside the doorway.
