“You could have lived this close to the ocean too,” Andy retorted, teasingly, “if ya hadn’t gone to rainy old Scotland.”
The redhead stuck her tongue out at her friend, and he returned the gesture.
They talked more about his last surf trip and her upcoming first day of work, reminding her that she still needed to map her walk to work from the apartment before it got dark. She wanted to time her commute, walking at a moderately slower pace than she usually kept, so that she could allow for uncontrolled variables, like crosswalk lights, the weather, and other unpredictable delays. Her anxieties preferred her to be fifteen to twenty minutes early rather than one or two minutes late for anything. They signed off, and Evie felt better, having shifted her attention from her love-life back to work.
Serena was ironing sheets in the living room when the redhead came in from the balcony, and they shared a short conversation about the area as Evie grabbed a quick bite to eat. Serena helped her map out the simplest commute using her map app before she headed back out to track her time.
It turned out that Google was pretty much spot on. She arrived outside of the business twenty-one minutes after locking the door of the flat. It was a Monday evening, and the area traffic was slow. There were a few people here and there popping in and out of the shops, a few cars on the streets, but otherwise, things were quiet. She didn’t want to get caught by her employers looking as though she was peeking in on the dispensary, so Evie ducked into the nearby bakery for a fresh loaf of bread and some treats.
When the girl stepped out again, the sunshine was replaced with the beginning of a drizzle. She popped open her umbrella, careful to keep it away from her already scratched glasses. As she walked away, she felt a tug on the back of the umbrella. Surprised, Evie whipped around, nearly catching a man in the chin with the pink capped ribs.
Connie managed to get a hand up in time to shield his face, as Evie sucked in a strangled gasp and automatically began trying to an apology.
“Serves me right for teasing,” Connie admitted, as he took the umbrella handle and joined her.
Evie was stunned by the brightness of his eyes and the casual tone of his playful banter. It was the Gaelic god! The amazingly-breathtakingly-beautiful Scot.
Less excitedly, she remembered he was also her one night stand—the bed she had run from that morning!
Here Connie was in all his splendour, calm and cool, as though nothing had happened while Evie went rigid with paralysis. Her mind was blank, confused and terrified to be so near to him again.
Connie’s eyes smiled along with the quirk at the corner of his mouth as he handed Evie a small paper bag. The logo on the side matched the bakery. Her mouth refused to work, her tongue still tied. Her hands twitched, as she found the nerve to accept the proffered gift. As she did so, she felt the press of his other hand, finding the small of her back. His touch sent an electrical thrill up her spine, her mind recalling the rousing caress of his hands from their last encounter.
“Ya know,” Connie whispered, his voice deep and velvety as he drew her closer, “I would have made ya breakfast.”
Evie's face began to burn as she glanced into the bag and seen that he had bought her a danish and a scone. Both were nestled in wax paper over the cups of the black bra she had abandoned at his flat.
Yes, yes, yes! Her mind was screaming, You had it all wrong! You weren’t prettier when he was drunk. He’s so into you! Her heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy. Evie knew that she needed to break free from this trance. She had to say something before he reconsidered his efforts to find her after she had run away.
Connie beat her to it.
“I was going to leave it at the pub for ya.” He admitted, with a chuckle, “But, lucky for me, I saw the cat on yer brolly.”
“I,” she started, hating how her voice cracked. She moistened her lips, swallowing to find some resolve, as she finished truthfully, “I’m sorry that I...”
“Och, Aye,” the large man dismissed her concern, “you probably had places to go and things to do. I’m just glad I caught up with you…to, emm…”
It was his turn to falter, tripping to find the right words without saying, ‘to return your bra.’
“I love pastries.” She blurted out lamely. Hastily, she amended with a simple, “Thank you.”
Connie smirked at her again. Evie loved his smirk. It gave him this roguish allure that made her queasy with desire.
“Would ya be willin’ to join me for a pint at Rockstar’s?” he invited, his strong arm curling her a little closer.
Evie was so lost in his smirk that she almost agreed. With a jolt, she came back to her senses, stammering an ill-fit apology. “Sorry, but I can’t. I should get back. I have lots to do. I am starting a new job tomorrow.”
Connie’s hand left her back a little too quickly.
“A new job is it,” It was more of a statement than a question.
Evie would have responded, but her mouth clamped shut again when he ducked out from the umbrella. He handed it back to her and gave her a pinched smile. Before she could react, he wished her a good evening and loped off down the street in the direction of the pub.
The next morning, the girl left her building with time to spare, arriving at the dispensary with fifteen minutes to spare, precisely as planned. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed the glass door open and stepped inside. The dispensary was modern, sleek, and clean. There was a reception desk to the left and frame boards to her right. She could tell with a glance that they housed a modest collection of around 600 frames. To the back, she could see two dispensing tables, where she would spend a lot of her time with patients, as well as another two doors, most likely leading to a back room and a doctor’s office.
There was a gentleman crouched, working in a low cupboard behind the dispensing tables. Evie approached, assuming this must be her employer…until he stood up.
Seeing his height and the raven-dark curls, Evie sucked in a sharp breath. Her teeth clamped down hard on the inside of her bottom lip to keep in a startled gasp. When those bright eyes met hers, Evie felt her knees want to buckle. She rooted her feet to the floor, biting down on her cheek to keep from falling over, as her mind whizzed with an explosion of frantic half-thoughts and rapidly flaring emotions.
What was Connie doing here? Did he want to surprise her again—how sweet—but she hadn’t told him where she was working! How did he know? Was he a stalker…?
These worrying thoughts were getting her nerves excited, so she stuffed them away and put on her most professional air. Evie approached, fake smile firmly in place, as she greeted him by name. It was unnerving to note that Connie did not look happy to see her.
“Are you in the market for a new pair of glasses?” she asked, finding a tone that was half-joking and half-professional.
“Not exactly,”
They were interrupted by the tapping of heels, as a tall woman joined them. She held herself aloft with a near autocratic sophistication, as she issued a graceful salutation. “Welcome. You must be Evangeline.”
This woman was elegance and grace fused together into a tall, lithe, amazon. She had to be near six feet—and then some, given the stiletto pumps—her astounding height was accentuated by the high-waisted black pencil-dress that hugged her perfect curves. Her enviable light olive complexion made her dark eyes nearly pitch in the low light at the back of the dispensary. Those eyes peered down a perfect nose at the redhead, from under sculpted brows and high graceful cheekbones. She was poised and fierce, the kind of woman you expect to see marching down a catwalk in the latest fashion, striking a dynamic pose. Her smile did little to dampen her predacious appeal, even as she sweetly plied, “It is a pleasure to meet you finally. Coinneach here has told me so much about you.”
The girl squelched the instinct to squeak. Her eyes darted askance to Connie, as her mind caught up. Reality collided with her notional take on the situation with all the subtly of an atomic bomb.
Connie…is my boss?!
5
The hulking Scot harrumphed and skulked away into the back work area.
Evie’s gaze finally returned to the woman, who was skeptically eyeing her. Under the scrutiny, the optician ditched her terrible realization and leaped forward to shake hands. “Yes. Thank you. It is a pleasure to be here. You have a beautiful dispensary.”
“Ah, yes, this is Coinneach’s work.” the woman said, sounding rather scornful as she waved a dismissive hand. When her hand returned to her ample bosom, and she gave a formal introduction of herself, she was pleasant once more, “I am Dr. Mara Sinclair.”
“It’s nice to meet you, doctor,” Evie replied automatically.
It was hard to remain pleasant and upbeat, as her brain whirred away in the background. Everything was happening so fast that she was having trouble keeping her composure, as more terrifying revelations came to her. They had the same last name. Siblings? With her luck, not likely! Did that mean that they were married? She felt the colour draining from her face as her fake smile tightened.
“Are you all right?”
Evie nodded her head, shaking off the startling sense of guilt and shock that slowly overcame her. That last bombshell had been especially killer. Once more, she pushed all thoughts of Connie and his presumed doctor-wife into the dark recesses at the back of her mind. She needed to focus. She had to be professional, and this was not the kind of first impression she wanted to make.
Evie stretched her pinched smile a little further, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. “Yes. I apologize.” she began, her mind racing to come up with a convenient excuse, “I’m still a little jet-lagged. Nothing that can’t be handled.”
“Ah, yes. That must have been a rather long flight.” the woman remarked, her voice even and unimpressed. Then she held her hand out to Evie. Holding hands was a bit more familiar than the girl was accustomed to, but to not offend her new employer, she took it.
“Come. Let me show you around.”
Mara showed Evie her exam room first. There was a generous amount of space to move about between the big ophthalmic chair and the desk, with a small seating area. There was a sleek laptop on the counter, over which hung a multitude of certificates and degrees with the doctor's name scrawled across in fancy black calligraphy. Mara explained where supplies and stock were stored in the cupboards before they moved on.
Evie was shown a back lab that was outfitted with equipment for cutting and installing lenses, as well as a washroom and a rear exit. Next, they came to a break room, where Evie shed her coat and purse before they returned to the front reception desk. This was where Evie would spend most of her time. The woman showed her where to find the various stationary tools, supplies, the payment terminal, and the computer.
Then, without preamble, Mara left the redhead with a binder labelled ‘Operation Manual,’ with a sweet, “You seem like a competent dispensing optician, Evangeline. I will let you acquaint yourself with your workstation. If you need anything, I will be in my office.”
The lithe woman spun on her stiletto heel, walking away with that catwalk signature sway to her hips that had her long mane of straight umber hair swishing back and forth like a pendulum. Evie watched the optometrist go, a little unnerved to be left to fend for herself and yet, glad to be free of the woman’s stiflingly stiff presence. Being alongside Mara was like wearing a starched shirt; itchy and restricting. Her intuition told her the woman would accept nothing less than perfection.
Evie sat down at the desk. The chair was a simple design and offered little in the way of comfort. She wondered bitterly if it was chosen to keep their optician’s from sitting—and then she crossed that thought out and reminded herself to play nice.
She needed to make a marked effort to get along well here. It was not as though she could just up and leave because she had differences with the owners—even though her gut told her it wouldn’t be easy. She had a visa to worry about, and she had spent a lot of money coming here for this job. Suck it up, Buttercup, she thought, make it work.
Evie went about getting to know her workstation. She perused the file system on the computer, the patient database, and the ordering program. Evie engrossed herself in this task, knowing that this was the make-it or break-it aspect of having a good first week at work. Most of the programs that controlled the patient files and orders were very similar in function. It was the slight variances that were the most important. Once she had the program down, she could undertake her duties without trouble.
By mid-afternoon, Evie had figured out how to schedule appointments, how to find patient files, how to order glasses, and how to print and fax with the combo machine. After she was confident in this aspect of her job, she cracked the white operations binder.
This was where she learned about the day to day workings of the dispensary, as well as their outside lab partners, frame sources, and medical affiliates. When she returned the binder back to the cupboard, she had seen the doctor pull it out of, she found another.
This one was labelled ‘Budget.’ Evie pulled it out and resumed her seat in the uncomfortable—but so urban modern—office chair. She flipped open the binder and began to inspect the numbers, wanting to make sure she understood the financial goals of the business. The redhead was a little startled by what she found. The predicted numbers were not aligning with the recorded daily totals.
The girl had worked with budgets in the past, but her previous employer, Dr. Reynolds, had always prepared them. She knew enough, however, to know that the books did not look good. The discrepancy showed a marked decline since the beginning of the year, the majority of the days each month falling short more than twenty percent. Certainly not good. As she investigated further, she could see that there were, in fact, only three days the previous month that the store had made the budgeted goal and, worse yet, that there were double the days that showed a fat old zero.
Evie cringed, feeling a weight drop in the pit of her stomach. The other months were not nearly as bad, but the decline of business was most definitely a trend. She wanted to look back further through the budget, but the paperwork for the previous year was not included in the binder.
The girl sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her temple as she closed the budget. This would make her job much harder. The business was struggling, so she would be expected to help bring those profits back up. And if she wasn’t successful, where would that leave her?
Evie sighed again, reminding herself that there was no need to stress about it now. Time would tell. She stretched her legs and returned the binder to the cupboard. Behind the reception desk was a workstation for adjusting and repairing glasses. Evie located the bead pan and hot air blower for adjusting frames, a tray of fitting tools, and a caddy filled with parts and supplies, as well as the lensometer, for confirming the prescriptions.
Below the station, she found order trays. The abundance available added to her mounting concerns, another tangible clue that business was slow. In another cupboard, she found orders that were ready for the patients to pick up. She pulled out one of the trays to investigate, finding a cleaned and aligned pair of glasses, with a case and supplies, ready for pick up. The call date verified that the patient had been left a message that their order was ready three days prior. Tardy follow-ups were another thing Evie would have to take care of. She went through the other trays, familiarizing herself with the patients that would be coming in soon to pick up.
Feeling comfortable with her increasing knowledge of the storefront, Evie next went in search of Mara. The optometrist was on a personal call in her office, reclined in the optometric chair with her heels kicked off and her feet up on her workstation. Feeling awkward about interrupting, Evie continued into the back room.
Connie was nowhere in sight. Evie wasn’t sure where the giant Scot had disappeared to, but it was less awkward.
Evie wondered why she hadn’t been able to connect the dots before now. He certainly sounded nothing on the phone like he di
d in person—or perhaps she had been too punch-drunk in love that her brain had been unwilling to make the connection. Either way, she still felt like a complete idiot.
Feeling stupid, her brain flipped the conundrum-coin, blaming Connie. He had been the one with all her personal information from her resume. Why hadn’t he realized sooner? He must have thought she was a tourist that he could indulge in while his wife wasn’t around. No harm if she flew back home, and Mara was none the wiser that her husband was sampling different flavours.
The cutting equipment drew her attention away from the distracting thoughts. A patient’s tray sat out beside the tracing machine, and she peered at the work order. It was a simple distance prescription for a young boy. It had a small round-eyed brown plastic frame, along with the uncut lens blanks, marked for cutting.
Having used similar equipment at her previous office, Evie went ahead and turned on the desktop-sized machine, and set up the frame to be traced. Next, she turned on the edger. The larger device hummed to life, the cutting chamber giving an initial spray of water before the bay door opened. When she had the lens blanks prepped for cutting, she slipped it inside the bay and pressed start.
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