Soul Weaver (3 page)

It’s not as if I have a choice.
The bills had to get paid around here, and she was falling down on the job. Sleepless nights bled into listless days. Even though her medications helped tame her social anxiety enough so customer interaction was possible, sometimes even enjoyable, they couldn’t fix everything.

Her nightmares and borderline agoraphobia had spiraled out of control after the accident. Now these four walls acted as her security blanket. They bundled her up and away from the outside world and the bad things that happened there. Opening her door to that world took as much courage as her doctor-recommended doses could muster.

“Hello? Ms. McCrea?” A hesitant voice pulled Chloe from her thoughts.

Her cheeks burned. Clueless about how long she’d stood talking to herself before the woman broke the awkward silence.

Pulling open the door with what she hoped passed for a smile, she said, “I’m Chloe McCrea.” Her palms were sweating, so she shoved her hands into her pants pockets.

The woman smiled. “I’m Neve Byrne.” She glanced over Chloe’s shoulder. “Mind if I come in?”

Chloe stepped aside and Neve entered with a wide grin plastered on her face.

“Wow. This place is gorgeous.” Neve turned a slow circle. She walked to the register and ran her hand across the aged countertop. Her purse snagged on a cup full of pens and sent them skittering across the floor.

She scooped them up with a laugh. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m kind of nervous.”

“It’s fine.” Bending down, Chloe lifted a pen stuck beneath a magazine rack by her foot. “Don’t worry about it.”

When her gaze slid across the floor, she noticed a hint of white sock peeked through the toes of Neve’s canvas tennis shoes. Even the knees of her jeans gaped as her weight shifted. When she leaned over the counter, replacing the cup, her shirt rode up and exposed a ribbon of skin across her midriff. An angry scar ran a jagged, purple line from her navel across the top of her hip bone.

She tugged on the faded hem and shifted uncomfortably under Chloe’s blatant stare.

“Sorry.” Chloe cleared her throat, tucking the pen into her pocket while wishing her dad’s attempts at teaching her manners had stuck. “So, are you local? I don’t think I’ve seen you around town.”

Not that she saw anyone outside of her store these days.

“No, I moved here last week. Piedmont seems like a friendly place.” She paused. “Have you lived here long?”

“My whole life,” Chloe said with a trace of pride. “This is home. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“That must be nice.” Neve’s knuckles whitened where she held on to her purse strap for dear life. “To belong somewhere, I mean.” She fidgeted some more before exhaling on a rush of words. “I know I don’t look like much, but I’m a hard worker, and I really need this job. I promise I’ll buy a better outfit out of my first paycheck, and the place where I stay has showers….” She paused long enough to gulp down a breath and thrust out an application Chloe hadn’t noticed clutched by her side. “I hit a rough patch back home, so I thought a clean start in a new town—”

Chloe held up a hand as much to silence Neve as accept the piece of paper. She knew all about rough patches. Even ten months after her car accident, her nights careened out of control whenever her eyes closed.

She needed help, and from the looks of Neve, she did too.

“I’ll be honest with you.” Chloe tucked a curl behind her ear and offered an insecure smile. “I’ve never had a coworker who wasn’t listed on my birth certificate, so this will be a learning experience for us both.”

The subtle offer of employment hung in the air, waiting for an acknowledgment.

“Thank you.” Neve’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since walking through the door.

“You’re welcome.” The words came easier than expected.

She offered Chloe a hesitant smile. “Not that I’m looking to be replaced any time soon, but you should talk to the paper about your ad next time. The words were so garbled I almost couldn’t figure them out.”

Heat crept into Chloe’s cheeks. With a wince, she recalled the stuttered voice mail she’d left on the local paper’s free employment hotline. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Free editorial service her foot. At least now she didn’t have to wonder why Neve and a man who didn’t exactly speak English had been her only applicants.

“So when would you like me to start?” Neve gave her an expectant look, the kind a stray animal gave the unwitting person they had adopted.

Chloe had thought she could send Neve on her way and think things over before making a commitment. She hadn’t counted on hiring Neve right off the bat, let alone putting her straight to work, but something in her tired and strained face won Chloe over. She was too familiar with the desperate need for relief to turn someone away. “I… don’t know. When’s good for you?”

Dipping a hand into her purse, Neve withdrew a crinkled brown paper bag and gave it a shake. “I brought lunch.” She shrugged when Chloe’s eyes widened. “I had two more interviews lined up after this one. Just in case.”

“Then I guess you start now?” Her stomach cramped, so she rested her palm across it. This was nothing to get nervous about. This was good news. Neve’s determination to find work meant she needed the job in a bad way. So she should be a model employee. Chloe hoped.

“Great.” Neve tucked her food away and set her purse behind the counter. “Do you mind if I make a few phone calls first?”

Chloe’s upset stomach tightened.
Please let this be the right decision.

As if reading her uncertainty, Neve supplied, “Like I said, there are people expecting me to show up later today. I’d like to call and cancel if that’s all right with you.” She blinked. “You did say I had the job, right?”

“Oh.” Neve’s courteousness reassured her. “Sure, go right ahead. Things won’t pick up around here for another thirty minutes or so anyway.”

Tucking the same stubborn curl behind her ear for a second time, Chloe pursed her lips and read over the damp application clutched in her hand. Several fields were left blank, the spaces for Neve’s address and previous address among them. What little information she had filled out looked promising, though. “It says here you have cashiering experience.”

Neve nodded.

Chloe chewed her lip in consideration. The till was low after last night’s safe deposit. Even if the fifty-odd dollars she kept on hand for change went missing, she wouldn’t be out much. She made her decision. She would keep an eye on today’s sales, make sure her profits didn’t walk out the door at shift’s end, and give her new employee a chance.

“Okay,” Chloe said. “Let’s start you out on the register and go from there.”

Within minutes, Neve had tamed her straw-blond hair into some semblance of order and made fast friends with the cranky vintage cash register. Her easy smile telegraphed an eagerness to please that put the upset flutters in Chloe’s stomach more at ease.

Something told her hiring an essentially blank slate to work in her store might not be such a bright idea, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And she figured at the age of twenty-nine, she was due to take a leap of faith in someone.

“Chloe?” Neve’s voice brought Chloe’s head up. She stood in the office doorway and indicated over her shoulder. “You have a visitor. He says his name is Wayne Durst, from Magazines Unlimited. Are you expecting him?”

“No.” She groaned. She hated confrontations, but dealing with this guy had been a mistake from the get-go. While his invoices showed up every month on time, her order didn’t. His product had a short shelf life, and the magazines she ordered from him often arrived well past that expiration date. “Send him in.”

Before Neve could turn, the wiry man slipped past her.

“Ms. McCrea,” he said as he extended his hand. His palm was damp and his grip tight. “It’s been too long.”

One of her eyebrows rose, but she played along. “Mr. Durst, it’s nice to see you again.”

He took the seat she indicated, then pulled a folded paper from his shirt pocket.

“Now, I won’t waste your time today.” He flashed a smile. “I know you’re a very busy woman.” Concern crept into his tone. “But there is a serious business matter we need to discuss.”

She took a steadying breath and braced herself. “What seems to be the problem?”

He smoothed the creases from the paper he’d pulled from his pocket and scanned it over as if he’d never seen the information before. “Well, I have this letter. My boss sent it over this morning, and he asked me to get to the bottom of it. It says you don’t want to continue your business with us.” He shook his head in disbelief. “But surely that must be a mistake.”

“It’s no mistake.” She kept her tone light. “I’ve canceled my contract with your company, and I’ve requested a full refund for the orders I never received.”

He refolded the invoice, then pointed it at her. “To be honest, I’m concerned for you. Piedmont is, after all, a very small community with such limited resources.” His polite veneer slipped as he leaned forward. “Let’s not make a rash decision. We both know you’ll be hard-pressed to find a replacement at our price or with our distribution.”

“Mr. Durst, if you ever answered your phone or your e-mail, you would know I contacted you before making my decision.” Chloe sat straighter and tried not to fidget. “I’m afraid my customers won’t purchase at full price material they’ve had access to for several weeks, and I’m not interested in paying out of pocket for materials I only have a chance of selling on clearance.”

His jaw flexed. “You have to understand this kind of thing happens.” The paper crinkled as his fist tightened around it. “I have your order out in my truck, so there’s no cause for pulling your account.” He tried a smile, but it showed too many teeth. “Mistakes can happen.”

“Yes, and if you make enough mistakes, then you lose business because of them.” She laced her fingers in her lap. “I’ve gone with another, more reliable company, which is why your account with McCrea Books was canceled. You’ll have to contact one of your other vendors and see if anyone is interested in taking those boxes off your hands at a discount.” She stood and gestured toward the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I have other business matters to attend to.”

His expression darkened. He shoved off the armrests of his chair so hard that it toppled over when he stood. He made no move to pick it up, just stormed from the room. She hoped stomping his feet made him feel better, because her frayed nerves jangled with his every step.

“What was his problem?” Neve stepped in and righted the chair before Chloe reached it.

Chloe gave her a weak smile and leaned her shoulder against the door frame. “I dropped his company from our supplier list.” Then she added, “If you see anything from Magazines Unlimited come through, mark it ‘return to sender,’ okay?”

“Sure thing.” Neve nodded.

On the heels of Mr. Durst’s hasty exit, a pair of women pushed through the front door. Chloe recognized them and smiled. Neve sidled past her and into the store before she took a step.

“Welcome to McCrea Books,” she said. “If you need any help, just let me know.”

While it might have looked as if Chloe lingered to watch her new employee at work, the sad fact was, her legs were too rubbery to carry her back to her desk. Her eyes closed for a moment, a smile playing around her lips. She’d done it. Handled a confrontation and not lost her cool. Now, if the feeling came back to her legs sometime before lunch, she’d be set.

Chapter Three

Nathaniel kept his expression impassive as he studied the cards in his hand. Around the table, expectant faces stared back at him, waiting for him to make his move.

“Are you in or are you out?” Saul’s wings rustled as he leaned forward to survey the chips mounded at his elbow.

“Last chance to place your bets,” Reuel said before he bit into a slice of pizza.

A few men shuffled their cards before pushing their chips forward.

The newest harvester to join their ranks, Abel, blinked rapidly and cleared his throat for the second time in as many minutes. He’d already worried a hole in the fabric of his wings by rubbing the thin material between his fingers. If he lost another hand of cards, he might be walking home tonight.

After turning his attention back to the game, Nathaniel did some quick math. So far he’d won enough money to cover the drained beer bottles and empty takeout boxes littering every surface in his home. He drummed his fingers in consideration.

For the past several months, these weekly poker games outlasted his enthusiasm.

Today was different, though. He needed to be here. His gaze slid over to Saul. His brother needed him here.

“I’m out.” Nathaniel folded his cards and slapped them facedown on the card table.

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted Reuel’s last call. No one at the table so much as glanced up. Nathaniel took his cue as host and stood. “I guess I’ll get that.”

“Expecting someone?” Saul’s words were soft around the edges. Considering today was the anniversary of Saul’s mortal wife’s death, Nathaniel was impressed he was still vertical even if it was before noon.

The other players ignored him as he made his way across the living room. He pulled open the door, glimpsed his nephew, and cursed. “Now is not a good time.”

Bran shouldered his way into the room. “I’m here on official business.” He took in the smoke-filled room and beer-drinking harvesters with a twist of his lips.

“In other words”—Saul paused for a sip from his longneck bottle—“Delphi needed his gopher to pop its head out of the hole.”

Nathaniel sighed in his brother’s direction. “Could you stop being an ass?”

“I don’t know,” Saul chuckled. “I’ve never tried.”

A muscle in Bran’s jaw flexed. He angled away from Saul and addressed the rest of the small gathering. “Delphi has two collections he would like completed as soon as possible.”

The room fell silent as if the harvesters feared a refusal would somehow reach Delphi’s ears.

Saul glanced up, undeterred. “I swear Delphi has a fun meter. When it senses fun, it must ding or flash lights or something.” He stood and waltzed right up to Bran. “Then he dispatches Bran the Buzzkill to swoop in and break it up before anyone gets a chance to enjoy themselves.”