Chapter 1

Sitting in my car in a parking lot downtown, I tried to quash the panic rising in my chest.

“You can do this, Alex. Breathe.”

My heartbeat was still too fast. I took my hands off the steering wheel and wiped them on my pants. After checking my hair and makeup in the mirror, I checked the taser inside my purse. It was a five-minute walk from my car to the building, and my interview was in ten minutes.

I opened the car door, my head on a swivel. I heard voices from the other end of the lot, but no one was too close. Closing and locking my car door, I hurried out of the lot and down the street. Businessmen in suits walked down the sidewalks. A young mother pushed her baby in a stroller toward the downtown shops. People were just going about their day without a care in the world.

I wondered what it would be like to feel so free. My ex-husband Jim worked nights and was probably still sleeping, so I’d made the interview for nine.

The day was sunny and warm, and a light breeze blew a strand of hair across my face. The digital display outside the bank said it was sixty-five degrees. This afternoon, it would hit seventy-two. I loved spring in Vermont, but this year, spring came and left without my noticing, turning into summer.

When the brick building came into view, I slowed. Harris Real Estate offices took up the first floor of the building. I wanted—needed—this job. I’d searched for weeks, sending out resumes and filling out countless online applications. I’d started biting my nails as I watched the balance in my account sink lower and lower. My low-paying secretarial job wasn’t cutting it.

But this job? It was a perfect fit for me, and I was determined to get it.

A handsome man in a suit came out as I approached the entrance.

“Hello,” he said, holding the door for me.

“Thanks,” I replied, looking down. He might have smiled, but I wasn’t looking.

Inside the foyer, I followed the signs and found the door to Suite 105 open. A woman sitting at the receptionist’s desk looked up at me and smiled.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’m Alexandra Dunn. I’m here for an interview.”

“Just a moment, I’ll let Michael know you’re here. Have a seat.”

I sat in the small waiting area while she made a call. My hands gripped my purse until my knuckles turned white. The air conditioner hummed, and when the cool air slid over my arms, I shivered.

“Michael will be out for you soon, Alexandra.”

“Thank you,” I said.

My chest tightened again, and I practiced my deep breathing. A few minutes later, a man walked into the reception area.

“Alexandra?”

“Yes.” I stood and walked over to him.

“Michael Harris, good to meet you.”

We shook hands, and I scanned his handsome face. His dark hair had threads of grey, but he had a young face. In a white button-down shirt, a tie, and khakis, he looked like the type of man you could really talk to, not that I spoke to many men these days. He led me down a hallway into a small office, then sat behind a desk piled high with papers.

“Excuse the mess, Alexandra, but my office always looks like this.”

“No problem. You can call me Alex.”

“Okay, Alex.” His smile was warm, and his eyes focused on mine. “I looked at the materials you sent over, and I like what I see. You were a home stager for six years.”

“I started by helping one of my neighbors stage her home. Her house wasn’t selling, so I offered to help. She had way too much clutter and furniture. We put a lot into storage, and her agent was delighted. The online listing was updated with new photos, and it sold quickly.”

“Then you made it into a business?”

“Yes, my neighbor told her friends what I did, and they started asking me for help.”

“I hope you started charging,” he said, grinning.

“Eventually, but I loved it so much, I would’ve done it for free.”

“You’ve done average-sized family homes, plus a few larger homes. I’ve looked over your photos, and you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to stop the heat from rushing to my cheeks. I wasn’t used to compliments.

“Let’s talk a little more about the job.” He put down a paper that looked like my resumé and sat back in his chair. “You’re okay with staying in the guest house at one of the properties?”

“It sounds exactly like what I need.” I was on the edge of the chair but pushed back a few inches, so I didn’t look so eager. “I need to find a new apartment, and this will give me some extra time.”

I was renting a bedroom from my best friend Katie. She’d been amazing while I went through my divorce, but her serious boyfriend and his son were moving in soon. I was happy for her, and I was ready to find my own place.

“Like the job listing said, the guest house has a functioning bathroom, and it’s furnished. The water is hooked up, and the kitchen has a small fridge, stove, and microwave. Are you familiar with the neighborhood?”

I was about to answer when his phone rang, shrill in the quiet, making me jump.

“Sorry about that,” he said, pressing a button on his phone. “I have it turned up loud. It startles people if they’re not used to it.”

Gripping the arms of the chair, I forced my hands to loosen and placed them on my lap.

“The guest house is nice, but it’s a little bare at the moment and still needs some finishing touches,” he said. “We’d like some staging done in the guest house, too.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Taking the housing component of the job is truly optional. I really didn’t think we’d find anyone interested in that. Frankly, we’ve had a difficult time filling this position. Most home stagers have full schedules or work for themselves. We couldn’t find anyone who wanted to do several homes.”

“I’d love to make it a full-time job again. I really miss it.”

Jim was amused at first about my “little job,” but when I started getting more clients, he insisted I slow down. He hated seeing me enjoy anything. He had a decent job, but I always wanted something of my own. I worked as an administrative assistant, but I hated not working in a creative field. Thankfully, my current boss knew I was looking for work and said I could leave when I needed to.

“I like your work, Alex. I’ve shown your photos to our manager. We had a stager who worked for us for seven years, but she’s moving out of state to live near family. We’ve had the ad online for a while.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried to keep my excitement tamped down.

“The contract is for three months. I’d like you to stage as many houses in the development as you can manage in that time, but I don’t want you to rush. Three of the homes are larger than the others and will require more time.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like you to pace yourself, so you can finish your last house before the end of the contract. Again, don’t rush, but don’t leave a house half-staged. After the three months, if we like working together, we’ll have more work for you.”

I nodded, my heartbeat clattering. He was talking as though I had the job.

“Did you look at the homes we’ve staged on our site?” he asked. “It shows the look we’re going for.”

“Yes, and your previous stager did a fantastic job. I see you’re going for colorful and luxe accessories. Comfortable but elegant, and nothing too over the top.”

“Exactly.” He picked up a folder and handed it to me. “Inside is a copy of the contract, and other information you’ll need if you want the job. Of course, I’ll have to do a background check and call some of your references before I make an official offer. What do you think?”

Adrenaline surged through me. I loved staging, and it would help me afford to live on my own again.

“Yes!” I said, and I couldn’t help laughing. He laughed, too.

“Good! I like your enthusiasm. You’ll be working with three men who do finish carpentry, decorative tile, and electrical work. All three have worked with us for over seven years. They’re hard workers, and they have excellent recommendations from their other clients. They might be putting in a few finishing touches while you work, but they should be finished soon and moving to other houses on the street.”

Nodding, I tried to stay calm. Jim would go nuts if he heard I was working with construction men. He’d fly into a jealous rage if he thought I even looked at another man. Turning off Jim’s voice in my head was something I had to constantly work on.

“My daughter Stephanie will be there to assist you, too,” he added. “She’s home from college and working for me this summer. Her work hours are from eight to five. You’ll need someone to fetch coffee, lunch, and help you shop. Anything you need.”

My mind spun. Home staging was a lot of work, but I figured I’d be doing it on my own. Having an assistant would be a big help.

“This is the second summer Steph’s worked for me. Last summer, she worked around the office, answering phones and filling in. She’s a good kid and a hard worker.” He picked up a frame and turned it around to show me the photo. A brunette girl in a dark green graduation cap and gown smiled, showing deep dimples.

“She’s very pretty. What’s she going to school for?”

“Economics. She’s smart and driven. I have a son who’s starting college this fall, then I’ll have two college tuitions.” He made a face, and I smiled. I liked him. “Steph knows the guys, and they watch out for her. The guys usually leave by four, sometimes a bit earlier. Steph will help you lock up the house you’re working on before she leaves for the day.”

“Can I ask about the security measures you mentioned in the job listing?”

“The construction workers are vetted through background checks. Each home is already set up with a security system, which is very user-friendly. We’ll show it to you on the first day, and I’ll leave a manual with you. Even the guest house where you’ll be staying in is part of the security system for that house. We have security do periodic drive-bys overnight. Reed, one of the finish carpenters, is staying temporarily in the first house on the street.”

“Okay. Why is someone staying there?”

“We like to have someone stay in one of the houses since they’re spaced a good distance apart. He puts lights on, leaves his car in the driveway, and makes the house look lived in. This weekend, a family is moving into a house on the other side of the street, so three homes will be occupied soon.”

“That makes sense.”

“In that folder, I printed out information about the workers, plus Steph. You’ll also find a list of stores where we shop.”

I flipped open the folder and saw that it was stuffed with papers.

“No need to read it all right now, Alex. Are you interested in the job?”

“Yes, absolutely.” A smile curved my cheeks. The expression felt foreign since I’d had so little to smile about lately. “What else do I need to do?”

“Today’s Thursday, so take tomorrow and the weekend to look over the info and fill out the forms. I’ll do your background check and call some references. We’ll talk on Monday and get you started on Tuesday.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Good to meet you, Alex. Welcome to the team.”

He stood and offered his hand. I was a bit startled the interview went so quickly, but I stood and shook his hand.

“Thank you so much, Michael. I won’t disappoint you, I promise!”

“Have a great day.”

He walked me out to the reception area, and I practically floated through into the hall. As I walked down the hallway, I let out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls.

When I reached the door to the street, I paused and looked out the window. The real world was out there, waiting for me. I patted my purse again, feeling the reassuring shape of my taser, then left.