Chapter SevenOcean waves crashed against the shore, and seagulls swooped on the thermals in the cloudless sky. Rochelle squinted at the sunlight sparkling on the water. She and Irwin had the day off after working six days straight. He’d managed to scare up a basket and sweet-talked the cook into packing them a picnic.
Rochelle checked her watch. Still some time before she’d need to return to campus to work the night laundry shift. Her duties fluctuated. Thus far she’d served at the reception desk, in the laundry, and in the kitchen. Answering the telephone was easy, but the only time she’d had that shift, the hours crawled by. At the end of her time constantly lifting and wrestling sheets into the mangle to iron them, her shoulders ached, and her hands burned from the harsh soap, but the
