Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
As if working on muscle memory, I end up in the parking lot of Main Street Grocery, my home away from home for the last two-plus years.
I see Garrett ringing up a customer and the shadow of another employee stocking some shelves deeper in the store. Mr. Giles is nowhere to be seen, but his ten-year-old car is parked in the same spot he takes up seven days a week, so I know he has to be in there somewhere.
Instead of driving back to the villa and facing sheer boredom, I turn the vehicle off, lock it the second I climb out, and make my way into the store.
The glare and deviant smile on Garrett's face when I step inside tells me that Mr. Giles might be telling the man more about my business than I originally thought. Despite knowing the owner has been trying to groom his grandson to take over the family business, even though Garrett's father shunned the idea of running the store and opted to work as floor manager at one of the bigger casinos in town, rumor has it that even being family didn't make Mr. Giles pay his son a living wage, sending him to look and find work elsewhere.
Ignoring Garrett's stare, I walk deeper into the store, finding Mr. Giles at the back, near the dairy counter, just staring at the closed doors housing the milk and yogurt.
"Mr. Giles," I say as I approach.
"Kaylee, dear," he says, a smile on his lips when he sees me, but then it turns down into a frown. "Where's your apron? It's part of your uniform."
"I'm not working today," I remind him, but it seems to bring even more confusion to his already tired-looking face. "I called out this week, remember?"
He still looks confused, cementing my previous suspicions that he's losing his memory. As unfortunate as that may be, it could possibly help me later when I need to come crawling back. I know I won't be living with Ellis forever. Eventually, he and his team will be able to shut down the warehouse, and I'll be safe to resume my life. As much as I dislike this job most days, it's a paycheck.
"That's right, dear," he says, but he looks like he's merely agreeing with me rather than confessing that he doesn't recall the conversation we had the other day.
"I'm here to pick up last week's check," I say with an easy smile.
"Of course, dear," he says, turning around to head toward the small business office. "Can you grab that cart and bring it back with you?"
Being the helpful person that I am, I don't remind him that I'm not currently on the clock. I simply grab the handle and pull it behind me, taking it around to the back and parking it in the cooler. The cold items are supposed to be stocked from inside here anyway, so the older stuff is always at the front, but who am I to tell the owner of the business the proper way to do things?
By the time I make it to the office, Mr. Giles is sitting behind the desk, confusion still on his face.
How in the world does this poor man make it through the damn day?
"Hi, Mr. Giles," I say, as I step into view. "I'm here to grab my paycheck."
"Ah, Sandra. So good to see you," he says.
He's slipped up and called me the wrong name before, but when he sorts through the stack of checks, he hands me the correct one.
"When is your next day to work?"
I give him an easy smile, the same one I would give my sweet grandmother when she was at the height of her own battle with dementia.
"I'll have to check the schedule."
"Well, have a great day off, and don't spend that all in one place," he says, pointing to the paper check in my hands.
Feeling a wash of sadness come over me, I walk back toward the front of the store, grateful that Garrett is busy with another customer so he can't give me a hard time about my recent absences.
Distracted, I feel like crying as sadness about Mr. Giles's predicament begins to swirl around inside of me. He's honestly a really nice man. He's just a tightwad living in a time that is decades past and seriously out of touch with what it takes to live these days. But the price of groceries in his store is nearly up fifty percent over what they were when I first started working there, so he has to have some grasp on reality.
I unlock the SUV and climb inside, watching through the windshield as Mr. Giles walks up to Garrett who just finished with his customer. I can tell the conversation is about me because Garrett points out toward the parking lot, but he doesn’t look in my direction, telling me he must've been too busy to see me climb inside this SUV.