“Don’t be prickly,” Mia advised breezily. “I can advance you a hundred dollars. Going against a salary, to start, of seven an hour. You’ll log your shopping, cooking hours daily. You’ll charge what you need, food-wise, to the store’s account. I’ll want the receipts, again daily.”

When Nell opened her mouth to speak, Mia simply lifted one slim, coral-tipped finger. “Wait. You’ll be expected to serve and to clear tables when there’s a rush, and to assist customers in the book section on your level during lulls. You get two half-hour breaks, Sundays off, and a fifteen percent employee discount on purchases, not including food or drink—which unless you turn out to be a glutton, will be part of your perks. With me so far?”

“Yes, but I—”

“Good. I’m here every day. If you have a question or problem you can’t handle, get me. If I’m not available, go to Lulu. She’s usually at the counter on the main floor, and she knows everything. You look quick enough to catch on; if you don’t know an answer, don’t be afraid to ask. Now, you’re looking for a place to stay.”

“Yes.” It was like being swept away by a fast, unexpected wind. “I hope to—”

“Come with me.” Mia pulled a set of keys out of a drawer, pushed away from the desk and clipped out—she wore gorgeous, needle-thin heels, Nell noted.

Once they were on the main level, she walked straight toward a rear door. “Lulu!” she called out. “Back in ten.”

Feeling clumsy and foolish, Nell followed her through the back exit and into a small garden paved with stepping-stones. A huge black cat sunned itself on one of them and blinked open one luminous gold eye as Mia stepped nimbly over.

“That’s Isis. She won’t trouble you.”

“She’s beautiful. Is the garden your work?”

“Yes. No place is a home without flowers. Oh, I didn’t ask—do you have transportation?”

“Yes, I have a car. It can loosely be called transportation.”

“That’s handy. You won’t have far to go, but it’d be troublesome to cart your goods on foot every day.” At the edge of the lot she turned left, kept up her brisk pace, passed the backs of shops, across from neatly kept houses.

“Ms.—I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Devlin, but I told you to call me Mia.”

“Mia, I’m grateful for the job. For the chance. And I can promise you, you won’t be sorry. But . . . can I ask where we’re going?”

“You need a place.” She turned a corner, stopped and gestured. “That should do it.”