After losing her job and her girlfriend, it's time for Annie Abraham to admit defeat and move back in with her parents. She has hardly been back to her tiny Montana hometown since the unforgettable summer before her senior year of college, when she...
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The problem with our shift pattern is that it means Annie and I get very little time together. There are no full days when we're both off, and only the one day that we work together, limiting us to the evenings when we're tired and we've got the kids to think about. I think that's why Annie's so eager to pick up Ruth's hours on Friday when she calls in sick. Otto and Hannah are both at their friends' houses and Ava's at daycare, and the initial post-Christmas rush has faded by the twenty-ninth, when money has run out and the new year looms.
"You know, I think we could take a look at the rota," Annie says, after the only customer in the store heads out into the snow and we're alone. She drapes herself on one of the sofas with a hazelnut coffee, after passing me one with a splash of vanilla creamer.
"What about it?" I sip my coffee. It's perfect. She always makes it just right.
"I don't think we need three people. Sure, in the run up to Christmas when it's busy, it's great to have that extra pair of hands, but day to day, most weeks, I'd have thought we're fine with two."
"Is this your way of telling me you've had enough?" I ask, joining her on the sofa. There are no orders to be gathering, no new stock to be putting out. Everything has calmed down at last. There'll be a swell next week, when payday hits and so do the January blues, but for now, finally, it's quiet.
"Not at all. The opposite."
"You ... want to work more? But you're telling me to cut the hours."
Annie shakes her head. She's looking at me like she wants to devour me and I only realize I'm still wearing my reading glasses when I drink my coffee and they fog up. "I'm telling you," she says slowly, "to cut your hours."
"What?"
"If I picked up an extra day, you could drop three of yours and there would still be two of us every day. You can do your admin from home, which means you'd save on daycare costs for Ava, and you'd be around more for the kids."
I stare at her. "How long have you been thinking about this?"
"Like, half an hour?" She shrugs and says, "It's just something to think about. Just because you own the place doesn't mean you have to be here, Laurel. You'd free up more time for yourself without having to hire someone to replace you, so you don't lose out on the money, but you'd still be around to pick up the slack when it's busy."
I don't know what to say. "I ... I mean, yeah, I've thought about cutting down on my hours, especially since Ava."
"We could give it a trial run next year?" Annie says. "If it doesn't work, no big deal, you just come back. And if it does, well, great. Ava gets more time with her mommy, who is less exhausted at the end of each day because she hasn't spent it on her feet in the bookstore."
"Okay," I find myself saying. Because the thought is appealing. More time. More family.
"Plus," Annie says, cozying up next to me, "if I move my shifts to Monday through Friday, and you keep your Wednesday, that means we get three whole days together each week."
