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The woman tilted her head. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking part?’
Kate smiled. ‘I’d love to, but I’m only in the area temporarily.’
‘That’s a shame. Who do you work for?’
‘No one at the moment. I’ve just finished dealing with a local estate, and now I’m on the hunt for a full-time job.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Not great so far,’ she admitted, her confidence dented with each rejection. ‘I’ve applied for a few positions, but no interviews as yet. It’s early days, so I’m sure something will come up.’
The woman gave her an appraising look. ‘Have you considered working for yourself?’
‘Self-employed, you mean?’
‘It works for the solicitors we have using the space here. They like the freedom to manage their own hours and workloads, without the pressure to hit targets.’
‘That’s the bit I hate,’ Kate said, searching her pockets for a tissue. ‘Billing a grieving widow for time spent with them talking about their dead husband never sat comfortably.’
‘Maybe you should consider it, then.’ The woman offered her a box of tissues. ‘Be your own boss.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ Kate took a tissue, noticing the time when she glanced at the wall clock. ‘Oh, heavens, my train! I need to go. Thanks for the information. It’s been really interesting.’
‘My pleasure. And good luck with the job hunting!’ the woman called after her, as Kate almost fell out the door.
Waving a goodbye, Kate ran towards the station, praying she wouldn’t miss her train. It was too cold to be standing on a platform waiting for the next one, especially as the snow was coming down harder now.
Lifting her bags over the barrier, she just made it onto the platform as the train pulled into the station. It was rush hour so it was full and there were no spare seats. Edging her way through the packed carriage, she ended up standing by the doors, her shoulder pressed against the glass.
Thankfully, it was only a short ride to Pluckley. She rested her head against the door, her mind processing the information the woman had given her. Should she consider going it alone as a solicitor? She loved her work, but she hated targets. Was this really something she could do?
The idea of being her own boss certainly appealed. Working at Rose Court had been a breath of fresh air – well, if you discounted the cold conditions, wayward ghosts, eccentric residents and falling for the man who had hired her. Aside from that, it had been perfect.
But she had nowhere to live. No savings. No way of setting herself up. Realistically, she’d need capital to get herself started, and she didn’t have that.
Her heart sank. It was a lovely idea, but probably not possible at this moment in time. Maybe one day, when she was more settled and financially stable. Until then, she was better off finding regular employment.
The train braked so suddenly, she almost lost her balance.
Grabbing the handrail, she peered outside and spotted the faded sign for Pluckley, disappearing under a blanket of snow.
When she stepped off the train, she was hit by a gust of icy air blowing down the platform. The temptation to phone Calvin and ask for a lift was overwhelming. Especially when she remembered his heated seats and cosy blanket stored in the boot. But seeing him wouldn’t help and being in a car with him would only make matters worse. She was better off fighting the cold and suffering physically rather than emotionally.
As she headed away from the station and into the snowy dark night, a sense of déjà vu settled over her, as she remembered her first night in Pluckley. So much had happened since then. Most of it good. She’d successfully completed the probate submission, her panic attacks had reduced, and her plan to pay off the tax debt and avoid bankruptcy looked to be on track. She should be feeling elated. If only she wasn’t facing Christmas alone, she had a job to ensure her recovery continued and she hadn’t stupidly fallen for Calvin bloody Johnson. But that’s what happened when you let your guard down.
A set of headlights approaching forced her to step onto the grassy verge to avoid being mowed down. The soft wet ground squelched beneath her feet, soaking her furry boots.
The car braked hard and reversed to where she was standing.
Even before the window lowered, she knew it would be Calvin, as she’d recognised his flashy car. Her luck had run out in trying to avoid him.
He leant across and opened the door. ‘Get in,’ he said, not unkindly.
‘I’m okay walking,’ she replied, a feeble attempt to retain her dignity.
His expression conveyed what he thought about her refusal. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s freezing out there. Please get in.’ His voice softened, and she knew only a fool would refuse for the sake of wounded pride.
Resigned to her situation, she climbed in, passing over her shopping bags so he could place them on the back seat. The heating was on, and her senses went into overdrive as she breathed in his familiar musky scent. Of course he smelt good, why was she even surprised.
