I pull up my Pinterest account and key open concept apartments into the search bar. I spend the next half hour pinning fun ideas on how to make the most of a small space, jotting down color and layout ideas. After a while I start to yawn, so I shut my laptop, set it on the nightstand, and snuggle under the sheets.
Tomorrow is the beginning of my new life, and I can’t wait to start it.
I wake up bright and early and determine that the first thing I need to buy is a coffee maker. There’s a container of instant coffee on the counter and an ancient kettle that’s covered in dust and grime. I’ve already consumed one of Aaron’s waters; I’m not sure I should start drinking his coffee too.
I pull my portable steamer out of my suitcase, wishing I’d unpacked last night so all my clothes wouldn’t be quite so wrinkled. I choose an interview-slash-job-application-appropriate outfit—add hangers to the list of items I need—and steam out all the wrinkles. Once I’m dressed and ready for the morning, I pop into Van’s cottage.
It’s already empty. Dillion and Van must have left for work more than an hour ago, and there’s a note on the kitchen counter from my brother.
Teag,
You know where the coffee is so make yourself at home. Dillion and I should be back from work around five. If you have the burning desire to make more of those muffins feel free since Dillion and I polished off the rest of them this morning (she ate six and will lie later and tell you it was me). I took a package of bacon out of the freezer and put it in the fridge to thaw, just in case.
Have a great day.
~Van
I make myself a carafe of coffee, pour it into a travel mug, and sit outside on the front porch for a few minutes, appreciating the serenity. Birds chirp and squirrels bounce from tree to tree. Hummingbirds flutter nervously, stopping at the feeder for a few seconds before they’re off again. Finches fight over the bird feeder hanging from a tree to my left, and one pesky squirrel keeps trying to climb down the metal cone. I have to assume it’s been greased with WD-40, because it scrambles madly to keep from falling as it slides down.
I bark out a laugh when the squirrel lands on the ground and two blue jays swoop down and flap around it agitatedly before flying away. The squirrel chatters angrily and bounces off.
I get why Van loves it here so much.
When I’m halfway through my coffee, I top it up and make use of my brother’s printer so I have hard copies of my résumé. I don’t have my fun résumé paper, but the plain white stuff works in a pinch. I head back up to the apartment to put on makeup.
I’m going for subdued today, because this isn’t the city and I don’t want to come across as too flashy. I’m wearing a pair of white capris, a pale-pink blouse, and wedge sandals in taupe. I check my reflection, give myself the thumbs-up, grab my purse and keys, and set out on my first ever adventure in Pearl Lake.
My first stop is town hall so I can check out the job board. There are a few requests for farmhands in the next town over. I’ve never so much as taken care of a fish, let alone livestock—which will eventually be turned into a meal—so I don’t know that I’d be very good at that job. There’s another advertisement for a childcare helper, but again, I don’t have a lot of experience with children, so I don’t think that would be a good fit either.
There’s also a position at the town hall customer service desk, so I make a stop there before I head for the downtown area, where all the shops are.
An older woman sits behind the desk, typing away on her keyboard. I wait until she drags her gaze away from the screen before I say anything.
“Hi there, my name is Teagan Firestone, and I noticed you’re hiring for customer service.”
She gives me a once-over, her arched brow denoting her skepticism. “It’s not a seasonal position.”
“Okay. That’s great. I have a résumé.” I pull one out of my purse and pass it over.
Her expression grows impatient as she scans the front page. “You need to be a permanent resident in Pearl Lake to apply for a position in town hall.”
“Oh, I am. I’m Donovan Firestone’s sister. He lives on the lake, and I’m moving here too.”
“You’ll need to update your résumé, then, and your driver’s license before you can apply.” She hands me back my résumé, and her gaze returns to her computer screen. Obviously I’m being dismissed.
Undeterred, I leave town hall and head in the direction of the main street. My next stop is Pearl Lake Realty, which is looking for a part-time house stager. I’m greeted by a guy named Tucker Patrick. “How can I help you?” The way he looks me over and his tone are slightly off-putting, but I try not to judge a book by its smarmy cover.