Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(43)
CHAPTER 11
CHARLOTTE
“I can be hurt,” she said, “only by people I respect.”
MARY BALOGH, THEN COMES SEDUCTION
Friday afternoon, Hannah knocked on the doorframe to my office approximately five minutes after I sat down and opened my laptop.
“We need to talk,” she said, her blue eyes reflecting the seriousness of her tone.
“Sure.” I glanced around the space for a second seat, belatedly remembering there was only one in the room. “Let me grab the chair from Hank’s office.”
“Don’t fuss over it.” She stepped inside and closed the door. “This might be quick.”
Even so, I stood. I didn’t like people hovering over me. Kevin’s father used to do this—insist everyone sit while he stood and hovered—and it drove me bananas. The man loved mind games.
“Listen,” she started as soon as the door closed. “I know what you're doing here. I know you’re only working here to find Heather, and I want you to reconsider.”
Shoot. I’d been worried about this. “Are you going to tell them?”
I was so close. After leaving Hank in the breakroom yesterday, I’d spent an hour in the dressing area, chatting up the ladies. I didn’t like tricking folks, and my guilt had ballooned along with the certainty that I’d be able to discover Heather’s whereabouts soon, likely before Sunday.
“As of right now, no. But I don’t like you charming everyone, making them like you so much, when I know you’re only here to find your cousin. That said”—Hannah drew herself up, her shoulders square—“no, I will not tell them or Hank that you’re looking for Glitterati. Not yet.”
“Glitter—wait, Heather? Heather’s stage name is Glitterati?”
“Her stage name was Glitterati when she worked here, yes.”
“But she doesn’t work here anymore?”
Hannah leveled me with a stony stare that communicated both impatience and disappointment.
“I’m sorry.” I leaned my hip against the desk. “I know you said you wouldn’t tell me anything about Heather, and I’m not trying to push you. You don’t want to tell me, fine. But my aunt and uncle are beside themselves with worry. All I want is for you to let me ask the other dancers about my cousin. Please don’t make things more difficult for me to find her.”
“I know you, Charlotte. I know you don’t like deceiving folks. And I can tell you’re genuinely enjoying yourself here—you fit right in. Are you planning to stay? Once you find Heather, will you stay?”
I slouched, her question deflating me. “I wish I could. Truly, I wish I could, but I can’t. I don’t have the time to spare away from the kids. My momma and aunt have been watching them, but they’re acting like candy is a food group and letting them stay up too late. I have a mountain of laundry that hasn’t been done yet, and—”
“Okay. Fine. I understand, you can’t stay.” She looked disappointed. Not disappointed with me this time but with the situation. “When will you leave? As soon as you find Heather?”
“No. I’m trying to bring The Pony’s finances into the twenty-first century.” I exhaled a dry laugh. “Fred may have made a great Santa Claus, but he left a mess of Hank’s payroll. I’m almost finished going back nine years and fixing those issues, and I’ve imported all the spreadsheets at the same time—not only expenditures but income from the restaurant receipts as well. Once that’s done, I need to categorize, program some canned reports, the annual profit/loss analysis, and write up a ‘how to’ for monthly reconciliations. Then—”
Hannah lifted a hand to stop me listing my litany of tasks, a genuine smile on her face. “You are ridiculous, you know that? You’re a saint.”
“I’m not a saint.” I rolled my eyes.
“No. You are. You’re the only person who takes a job under false pretenses, then sticks around to solve as many problems as possible before fading back into your heavenly ether. You are ridiculous. I bet you’re even planning to give two weeks’ notice.”
“Giving two weeks’ notice is standard.” A twinge of defensiveness had me standing straighter. “I might be here under false pretenses, but I’m not a thief, nor am I incompetent. Hank is paying me to do a job. I’m going to do it to the best of my ability, and then I’m giving two weeks’ notice like a professional.”
“Fine, fine. I figured as much when you kept staying late, working past midnight at your desk.” Still wearing her friendly smile, Hannah placed a hand on her hip. “This is what I will do. I will give you all the information I have on your cousin—”
“You will?” I clasped my palms together, hope leaping like a glorious stag in my chest.
“Yes. But you have to promise that you will speak to her first before telling your aunt and uncle that you found her. And if she doesn’t want to speak to her parents, you have to promise you’ll never hand over her contact information or anything else about her. You can’t even tell them that you found her. Can you do that?”
“I . . .” I shifted on my feet, my heart sinking. “What if she’s in danger?”