CHAPTER 8
AT FIRST LIGHT the next morning, my sense of euphoria at having a job was soon tempered by realism.
When I told Emmy yesterday I’d start with one room and work through, it had sounded so easy. But which room? They were all horrendous.
I hit my first challenge before I even left my apartment. What should I wear? I’d seen Sylvia in her perfectly pressed shift dress, and I didn’t have so much as an iron. My only short black dress may have been suitable for hotels, but it wouldn’t look the part in Rybridge. Still, I didn’t have much choice. I picked a couple of bits of lint off my apron and slipped it into my bag, and as an afterthought, I added a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, just in case I was allowed to wear them. Climbing over Mr. Goldman’s piles of debris in my regular outfit
