Page 5

5

Rose needed a job.

The biggest difference between life in New York and life in Meadow Falls was that in New York she could go anywhere she wanted by hopping on a train or hailing a rideshare. But Meadow Falls didn’t have a public transportation system, or any Ubers, even. And all the bikes in Lowell’s garage actually belonged to his siblings. If Rose wanted to get out of the house, she’d have to make use of the license she got last year. And that meant getting a car. And that meant getting a job.

A day after becoming acquainted with the town square, Rose came back, crossing the street to check out the community center. Flyers crammed its main bulletin board, their neon-colored pages promoting garage sales, volunteering opportunities, and bingo nights. All the summer jobs for teens seemed to have been snapped up, but one flyer, slightly obscured by a poster for the local theater group’s upcoming musical, grabbed Rose’s attention. It was a job ad for a candy-striper-type position at a hospice. No experience required, teen applicants welcome. The paper, wrinkled and weathered stiff, was fringed with tear-away strips printed with a phone number and an email address. But it seemed that no one in Meadow Falls wanted to work at a hospice, because not a single strip had been torn off. Rose ripped off a corner slip.

She got the job without even having to interview for it, and on Monday, a woman named Tonya gave Rose a tour of the facility.

“Are you planning on going for premed in college?” Tonya asked as they walked down a sterile white hallway.

Rose shook her head.

“We don’t usually get too many kids applying for jobs here unless they plan on going into the medical field.” Tonya had an accent that Rose couldn’t place, something Southern. “And even then, it’s only if there’s no volunteer spots open at the hospital.” HOSS-piddle.

As they walked, Tonya listed all of Rose’s job responsibilities (following orders, organizing storage, and helping the guests—“Guests, never patients,” Tonya explained—with whatever they needed). Tonya led Rose into a private room where a man sat in a recliner, watching Wheel of Fortune .

“Why, hello there, Mr. Davis!” Tonya said. “This is Rose Pauly, our newest orderly.”

“Hello, Rose Pauly,” Mr. Davis said. He was an old man, but to Rose he looked like any other person you might find walking down the street, not someone who was close to death. When he smiled, his billowy cheeks creased with a magnificent grid of lines that showed his age, like those on a tree stump. Rose’s fingers twitched, itching to draw his portrait. “Would you be a dear and hand me the remote?” He pointed to the nightstand near his bed, and Rose quickly fetched it for him.

“Just holler if you need anything,” Tonya said, and almost as soon as they’d popped into the room, they were back out of it again.

“See, ain’t nothing to it,” she told Rose in the hallway. They reached a door labeled STAFF ROOM . “The one thing we ask is that you’re not on the phone all the time. Even if you find you’ve got nothing left to do during your shift, the supervisor doesn’t like the look of an employee just sitting there on her phone.”

Tonya pushed the door to the room open, and there sat an employee on her phone. When she looked up from her screen, Rose recognized her.

Heather Hargrove did not slip her phone into the pocket of her plain periwinkle smock. The uniform looked wrong on her, like putting a Barbie in a gym sock and calling it a dress.

“Heather, meet Rose. Rose, Heather. Heather will show you where your cubby is. You can find your smock there. I gotta get back to work but you two can get yourselves acquainted in the meantime.”

Tonya left, closing the door to the room and taking all the air out with her.

Rose never would’ve pictured Heather Hargrove working at a place like this, but here she was, in a windowless room under fluorescent light, among filing cabinets and a minifridge. Rose pressed a tight smile to her face, but Heather’s own face remained slack. The silent stare-off, already awkward, veered toward unbearable. If they were going to work together, they should probably learn how to talk to each other.

“We met already,” Rose said. “At the party at Lowell’s house.” The party where she had, regrettably, said something about Heather’s dead mother. “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

It was Rose’s meager attempt at an olive branch, stretched slowly, timidly, toward Heather. But though Heather was looking directly at her, Rose might as well have been a ghost. Instead of responding, Heather headed for the door, and left without a word.

The job was part time, three days a week, and her first day on the job was over before she knew it. When Rose stepped through the automatic sliding doors, she found an increasingly familiar face outside. She could’ve walked past him, but her feet made a line straight for him, all of their own accord. And with every step closer to him, his smile stretched wider. “I didn’t know you worked here,” Hart said.

“Just started.” If they knew each other better, Rose could’ve picked up the conversation, but she realized she didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t even know why she’d walked over to him. All Rose knew was that she was drawn to Hart. Wanted to come to him. Talk to him. See the smile that played on his lips as he looked at her. Thankfully, he had something to fill the silence with.

“Well, I’m glad I bumped into you. I wanted to invite you to a garden party.”

“A garden party?” Rose pictured parasols and tea biscuits, but that couldn’t have been what he meant. “Like, a Fourth of July thing?”

Hart shook his head. “Actually, it’ll take place on the summer solstice.”

“Weird thing to celebrate.”

“Any excuse for a party, right?”

“Right,” Rose said. The kids in Meadow Falls seemed to party all the time. “Why me?”

Hart tilted his head to the side, his mouth open for a beat before a question came out of it. “Why not you?”

Rose could think of a few reasons. On the surface, it didn’t seem like she and Hart had anything in common. This rich boy who looked like he could pick up any girl in town. And Rose, who didn’t feel like she belonged in this town at all. But before she could dwell on it any further, she heard the whoosh of the automatic doors open behind her. The way Hart glanced over her shoulder and waved, Rose knew it was Heather. That was her signal to leave. She started on her way, leaving Hart’s question hanging. “Good night, Hart.”