Jane Jackson, my new boss, stood before me. The moment she walked through Teresa’s Bookstore, I knew Jane would be trouble. She wore a gray suit that was too hot for a Tennessee summer with a white shirt, snuggled tight against her neckline. Jane’s brown hair wrapped into a tight bun, which made me wonder if it gave her headaches. Those high stilettos were a better match for women who sat in office chairs all day and attended swanky lunches, rather than spending a day opening heavy boxes or restocking bookshelves. My new boss looked as if she stepped out of Vogue magazine.
“Fired?” I asked.
“Fired is a strong word. But yes, Garnet,” Jane said, nonchalantly. “After today, my aunt’s bookstore will be permanently closed.” Her bland brown eyes studied the sales floor. I knew Jane noticed the
