Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“The box mix?”
She winks. “From the grocery store. And use the oven fan. It distributes the heat more evenly. That way, the cake will come out round.”
“I didn’t think about that. It’s a new oven, so the oven and I are still getting acquainted.”
“Ah,” she says with an air of expertise. “It’s probably not worked in yet.”
“Yes, probably.” I laugh. “I hope so at least.”
“Are you staying permanently?” She nods toward the hill. “In that house?”
“It would seem like it.”
“What a curse.”
I couldn’t agree more, but I don’t want to put my misery on display for everyone to witness. “It’s been cleaned and refurbished since I discovered the, um…” I whisper, “…lice. It really looks nice now.”
She narrows her eyes. “Did you walk again?”
“It’s such a lovely day, I thought I’d get some exercise.”
“Hmm.” She looks from me to the cake. “I hope you didn’t hike all the way down the mountain just to bring me a cake.”
“I wanted to use the opportunity to explore the village.”
“There’s not much to see, I’m afraid. Won’t you get lonely up there? It’s such an isolated place.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say with an uncomfortable smile.
“If you say so.” She adjusts her glasses. “Well, if you need anything, you just have to ask.”
“Actually, there is something.” I hook my hair behind my ear. “I need a job, something that will earn me a little money not only to pay you back but also for other commodities.”
She pulls her face into a scowl. “Why doesn’t your filthy rich husband give you money? He sure has enough of it going around.” She mutters under her breath, “Not that anyone here wants his money.”
My cheeks heat. “It’s complicated.”
She makes a non-committal sound.
“You don’t happen to know of anything, do you?” I ask.
“It’s a small village.” She shrugs. “But Mrs. Paoli was taken ill with the flu. She has a small dog.” She wrinkles her nose. “One of those tiny things that yaps all day. She may appreciate some help with walking it while she’s sick.”
“I’ll ask,” I say, both grateful and hopeful. “Can you please direct me to her house?”
“It’s the house with the lilac shutters next to the clothing store on the main street. You can’t miss it. As you’re heading there, you may as well take the prescription her doctor emailed this morning. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
She holds up a finger. “Give me a minute.”
Taking the cake, she goes to the back. A moment later, she returns with a pharmacy bag. “Here you go.” She hands me the bag. “The dosage instructions are on the prescription. You better make sure she takes the vitamins. She can be forgetful about that.”
“I will,” I say, waving as I make my way to the door. “Thanks again, Mrs. Campana. Have a nice day.”
“Wait,” she calls. “What about your dishcloth?”
“I’ll get it next time I’m in town,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
Like Mrs. Campana said, I locate the small house with the lilac shutters and the pink flowerpots on the porch step without any problem. A miniature Pinscher sits under a lace curtain on the windowsill. She goes into a barking frenzy when I knock on the door.
Shuffling sounds on the other side of the wood. An elderly lady with pink highlights in her gray hair opens the door. She’s dressed in a cherry-pink robe and matching slippers.
“Yes?” she says in a nasal voice, pressing a tissue under her nose. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Sabella. I live in the house on the hill.” I hold out the pharmacy bag. “Mrs. Campana sent me with your medicine.”
“Oh, yes.” She pulls the belt of the robe tighter before taking the bag. “Do you mind coming in for a moment? I’d like to send her a cheque. Maybe you could deliver it for me on your way back?”
“Sure,” I say, stepping inside when she opens the door wider.
The dog barks in all earnest, obviously not liking my intrusion.
“Quiet, baby,” she says, but the little creature pays her no heed.
Going down on my haunches, I offer the dog my hand to sniff. “Hey, buddy. What’s your name?”
The dog stops barking and reluctantly comes closer. After sniffing me, she licks my hand.
“That’s Diva,” Mrs. Paoli says. “She likes you.”
“She’s cute.” I scratch Diva’s chin. “Mrs. Campana said you may need someone to walk her while you’re feeling under the weather. I’m looking for small jobs, so if you—”
“Done.”
I straighten. “Really?”
“It’s not often that Diva likes someone. I was considering paying one of the older kids to walk her, but you never know what mischief those boys get up to. The last time, they dressed my Diva in a doll’s dress and put a frilly hat on her head. The poor thing was miserable. Imagine. A frilly hat,” she exclaims. “I prefer that an adult takes care of her.”