“Your funeral,” my brother grumbles humorously.
I turn my back, sorting through some papers so that I look busy when they enter.
“Well, this is it,” Alec says, presumably holding the door for her. “Hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here.”
“I don’t know. It definitely looks tidier.”
“That’s Penn. You know how OCD he can be.”
“I recall,” she says softly, almost as if she’s afraid to offend me, which I find laughable given our current situation.
“Your desk will be over here.”
“Temporary desk,” I rumble, back still to the pair.
“This will be your desk for the next ten weeks.” Alec tries to smooth over my brashness, leading her to the corner of the room, which sits next to a window that looks out over the docks. “Penn will have to walk you through your duties. I’m almost never in here and certainly have no idea how to handle any of this.” I turn just in time to see him gesture to the open ledgers sitting on top of the desk. “But I’ll be around if you need to vent. Rumor has it, your new boss is a bit of an a-hole.” He raps his knuckles against the top of the desk.
“If you’re about finished,” I tell my brother, clenching a laptop to my chest.
“Told you.” He winks.
“Appreciate the heads-up.” London smiles, and this time, there’s nothing forced about it.
For a brief moment, I want to take my brother’s head off, but even I can see he’s done me a favor by lessening the awkwardness. Though it doesn’t stop it from rushing back in the second he leaves the office.
“You’re expected to be here every day at seven a.m. sharp.” I dive right in, not wanting to linger a single second longer than I have to. “That’s when our overnight ships come in and you’ll need to be at the docks to take inventory. Don’t be late.” I set the laptop on the desk and then gesture to the chair. “Sit.”
She does so without hesitation.
Leaning forward, I flip open the computer and type in the passcode, then pull up our list of spreadsheets, trying to ignore the sweet scent that fills my nose. I pull in a deep breath in spite of myself. Vanilla and lavender... It’s good to see some things haven’t changed.
I force myself to snap out of it and focus. She’s just a temp. No one special. Just a woman here to do a job for a limited time.
If only that were true...
“Every day, you’ll log the ship, the amount of the catch, and the crew on board.” I click on another sheet. “This is the payroll log where you’ll enter the time the crew boarded and un-boarded the ship and their haul. On Thursday of each week, you’ll tally the hours, multiply it by the pay rate listed here.” I point to a specific column. “Deduct taxes using the bracket here.” I point to another section. “And then write each of them a check for whatever they earned that week, minus the deductions. You’ll also need to log that information here.” I switch to another spreadsheet. “They usually pick up their paychecks pretty early, so you may want to think about coming in early on Thursdays to ensure the checks are ready. Otherwise, you’re going to have not so happy fishermen banging on the door and trust me, no one wants that.” I straighten.
“You still use paper checks?” She flips through the book in front of her absentmindedly.
“Cheaper than paying for payroll software; easier too, since a lot of the guys don’t have bank accounts.”
“Who doesn’t have a bank account this day and age?” She seems genuinely confused by this.
“Seven years erase your memory of how Wren Cove operates?” My voice has an edge to it, though it’s not entirely intentional. “We do things old school here. Always have.”
“So is that it?” She gestures to the material in front of her, not bothering to answer or comment on my last statement.
“There’s more, but for now, those are the most important things. Study the spreadsheets. Go over what I told you. Familiarize yourself with the ledgers so tomorrow when you’re at the docks, you know what to do. If you have any questions, I’ll be back later.” I immediately head toward the door, not able to take another second of being in the same room as her, of smelling her sweet scent, of being so close I could physically touch her and yet, knowing that I never will again. It’s the worstform of torture I can imagine, and you best believe Patty will be hearing from me the second I leave.
“Penn.”
I stop just shy of the door. “Yeah?”
“How do I... How do I get paid? Do I clock in somewhere or just report my hours to the agency?”
“You log your hours with everyone else’s, but I will be the one to issue your paycheck,” I say with my back still to her. “And you’ll want to dress a little more casually going forward. I’d hate to see those fancy New York clothes get ruined. You’re working on a fishing dock now, not a fashion runway. Now, if you don’t mind, I have actual work to do.” With that, I tear open the door and step outside, having managed not to meet her eyes a single time in our entire interaction.
I’m too desperate for someone to help with the books to turn her away, but that doesn’t mean I plan to spend any kind of real time with her. She’ll figure it out or she won’t. And if that means I have to take the books home with me every night to double-check her work, so be it. Anything is better than being in that room with her. And I do mean anything...
