2

In the hallowed embrace of an uninterrupted night's rest, I awakened to a newfound sense of tranquility. Unlike the nights spent in the suffocating confines of the Wrights' household, where slumber was but a fleeting luxury, this morning marked a momentous occasion—a respite that unfolded on my own terms. However, as much as I relished the solace, idling away the day was not an option. To sustain the luxury of a private abode, I needed gainful employment.

After a refreshing shower and donning my spare set of clothes, I ventured downstairs. My objective: to steer clear of the peculiar man manning the check-in counter. Yet, his watchful gaze captured me the moment I entered the lobby.

"Good morning!" he exclaimed, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "How was your slumber?"

"Fine, thank you," I replied with a nod, hastening my exit. Throughout my departure, I could sense his eyes tracing my every step, an unsettling sensation that propelled me forward.

A gentle breeze caressed my face as I surveyed the surroundings. The streets and sidewalks teemed with life, bustling with vehicles and pedestrians. Birds chirped merrily from their perches among blossoming trees, their melodies harmonizing with my growing optimism. Today held promise. Retracing my steps from the day before, I set forth on my journey. It took me a mere ten minutes to reach the Antique shop, nestled snugly between a restaurant and a drugstore.

Peering through the shop's windows, I glimpsed a trove of aged furniture, dolls, and pottery. A flickering "open" sign beckoned from above the door. Stepping inside, a bell chimed to announce my arrival. Navigating through a narrow aisle flanked by shelves brimming with books, I eventually reached the counter. There, a tray of cookies accompanied by a note reading "please take one" greeted me. The remaining surface of the counter bore an assortment of old photographs and newspaper clippings. Absently, I plucked one of the clippings, my gaze traversing its contents. Unbeknownst to me, someone had entered the room until a throat was cleared, causing me to drop the clipping in surprise.

"May I assist you in finding something?" inquired the old man standing behind the counter, his small rectangular glasses perched delicately upon the bridge of his elongated nose. Though thinning hair crowned his head, a cascading white beard nearly reached his chest.

"I'm looking for employment," I confided, mustering a touch of timidity. "Marianne sent me," I added tentatively, unsure of the weight those words held.

"Well, if Marianne vouched for you, then you must be worth considering," he responded, retreating behind the counter. "She happens to be the proprietor of this establishment."

Momentarily taken aback, I cast my gaze upon the photographs on the counter, belatedly realizing that the woman depicted in those images was Marianne herself. Though younger, with lustrous dark locks, her face bore the same familiar smile and glasses, etched into my memory.

"Are you her husband?" I inquired, my eyes oscillating between the pictures on the counter and the man before me.

"No. Thomas passed away a few years ago. He was a good friend and a fine man," he replied, settling onto a nearby stool. "So, do you possess a resume?"

Fidgeting with unease, I confessed, "I've never held a job before."

"I see. Do you reside in the vicinity?"

"I'm staying at the motel down the street."

Arched brows rose in curiosity. "Alone? Where are your parents?"

My stomach churned at the mention of them. Beyond trivial fragments, I struggled to recall their faces and the melodies of their voices. Their memories were slipping through my fingers, eroded by time. All that remained was the specter of the car crash that stole them away, leaving me adrift.

"I'm eighteen," I replied, allowing the weight of my words to resonate.

He scrutinized me for a fleeting moment, as if attempting to decipher my essence, before sighing. "If Marianne sent you, then you're hired. Can you commence your duties immediately?"

"Of course," I responded, injecting as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

"Very well. Today, I'll have you assist with tidying up," he declared, gathering a duster and a broom, extending them toward me. "What's your name, young lady?"

"Alana," I replied, seizing the cleaning implements.

"I'm Brad. Inform me if you encounter any challenges," he said, offering a small smile before disappearing into another room, where old paintings hung.

The remainder of the day was spent diligently sweeping and dusting every nook and cranny of the store. Cleaning had been one of my assigned tasks during my time with the Wrights, and its grip on my psyche had developed into an obsession. I yearned for every surface to gleam, my desire to express gratitude for the opportunity bestowed upon me.

The final room in need of attention housed an array of antique jewelry. Locked display cases safeguarded necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, an extravagance I had never beheld. Pearls, diamonds, and gemstones in a kaleidoscope of hues tantalized the eye. I embarked on the task of dusting the glass surfaces, all the while marveling at the treasures concealed within.

Inadvertently, my foot connected with an object, sending it clattering across the floor. Stooping to retrieve it, my hand brushed against a small item—an intricately designed ring. As I raised it to eye level, the band revealed delicate engravings resembling celestial bodies, while the prongs cradled a white jewel that seemed to shift shades from white to translucent gray as I turned it in my fingers. A price tag, bearing the modest sum of five dollars, dangled from its slender frame. Something about this ring held me captive, compelling me to slide it onto my finger. A perfect fit. I stood there, captivated by its allure.

"What are you doing?" Brad's voice snapped me back to reality, startling me from my reverie.

Whirling around, I swiftly slipped the ring from my finger. "I found it on the floor. I apologize..." My words trailed off, interrupted by his interjection.

"I won't bite your head off. Calm yourself, young lady," he retorted, a hint of laughter in his voice. "That ring has been here since I first started working, twenty years ago. We've struggled to find a buyer. A boy dropped it off one day, practically tossing it at me before vanishing."

Curiosity piqued, I asked, "What type of gemstone is this?" once again bringing the ring close to my gaze.

"Likely a moonstone—nothing extraordinary. Hence its modest price," he explained, accepting the ring from me and inspecting it. "Would you like to keep it?"

"Truly?" A smile, long forgotten, etched its way across my face.

"The five dollars will be deducted from your wages, but if you desire it, it's yours," he affirmed, removing the small tag and returning the ring to me.

"Thank you," I murmured, slipping it back onto my finger.

He grunted in response. "Finish up your cleaning; we're about to close."

Swiftly, I resumed my duties, the satisfaction of meticulous completion fueling my movements. Sweeping and dusting concluded, I rendezvoused with Brad at the front of the shop. Together, we locked the doors, ensuring each room was in pristine order.

As Brad secured the entrance, he informed me, "Be here tomorrow morning at eight."

"I will," I assured him, reciprocating the handshake he extended. Turning away, I watched him retreat to his car.

Once he departed, my weary legs carried me back toward the motel, my hunger compelling me to acquire a sandwich and soup along the way. By the time I crossed the threshold, the day had already transitioned into evening. Engaging in conversation with the enigmatic man proved an arduous task, as I remained ignorant of his name, but I maintained polite decorum, eager to retire to my room. Eventually, he relented, releasing me from our exchange. Ascending the stairs with haste, I sought refuge within the confines of my modest abode. Flicking on the television, I aimlessly traversed channels until the news broadcast captured my attention.

Devouring my food with haste, I relished the luxury of indulging in sustenance intended for one. The hours slipped by, the moon ascending its throne in the velvety expanse of the night sky. Nestled upon the bed, I gazed at the ring, its allure captivating my thoughts. I couldn't fathom why no one had recognized its beauty. To me, it was a treasure beyond measure. Nestling into a comfortable position, I cast my gaze upon the moon's luminous presence, its ethereal light bathing the room. Slowly, my eyes grew heavy, surrendering to the embrace of dreams.