CHAPTER 8
Emma
Istared down at the bill in front of me, unable to comprehend what was written there.
“It’s wrong,” I told Hans, who was chewing on another carrot stick while he grinned at me. “This has to be wrong. He added it wrong or…”
I shook my head, not sure how else to explain what was written on the bill. The male had left me a fifteen-hundred-dollar tip. But that was impossible.
“It has to be a mistake or a scam or something,” I gasped, holding out the bill to Hans. “Check it again!”
“I already checked it,” he assured me, shrugging and leaning back against the counter. The kitchen was bustling behind him while he took his break. “It’s real. That’s your tip.” He bit into the carrot again, the loud crunch making me flinch along with the smugness I heard in his voice.
“But…” I trailed off, and he shook his head.
“It’s yours, and you’ll be getting it with your weekly check,” he said, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “I know you’ve been struggling, Em. Consider this a good thing and don’t fight it.”
My breathing was shallow as I stared at the bill. If I took this money, I’d be able to make this month’s payment as well as a big chunk of next month’s, I could even consider taking a few shifts off from the Bureau.
It was the one that I had the most issues with. Yes, the others were running me ragged and they were a lot more physical, but I couldn’t stand to go into Mr. Berard’s office one more time. A break or even a change of shift to a shorter one would be great.
He arrived late most days, so if I took the morning sorting shift—which was less pay, but no interaction—then I should be able to avoid him. Excitement brimmed inside of me at the thought. I wanted to screech with joy, but I kept it in.
I still couldn’t believe that Krusk had tipped so much. How rich did someone have to be to toss that kind of money around? Lin was a lucky girl.
I ignored the ache in my chest that that thought created. I would be happy for my friend. I didn’t have the time or energy to spend on a male anyway. I had to ensure that my family—which now only consisted of myself and my grandma—was taken care of.
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut, stopping the tears from flowing. I was definitely going to sob with joy, but I wasn’t going to do it at work. I had at least some dignity left, after all.
I handed over the bill to Hans, who had a quiet smile on his face, as he shooed me toward the room at the back of the kitchen where staff kept their things. I entered the changing room, quickly putting on my street clothes, in a daze as I did.
My mind was still spinning with disbelief. When I was younger, I’d always considered myself a lucky person. I always had the best toys, the best food, the best parents—the best of everything. But in one moment, that luck had gone bad.
In one single moment, everything had changed, and I never thought I would ever be lucky again. But as I remembered the scribbled numbers on that bill, I crossed my fingers—and my toes as well—that my luck would stay good.
The sudden vibration of my phone startled me, and I jerked hard, my fingers and toes uncrossing automatically. I slapped at my pocket, fumbling with my phone and holding it in front of me, before I felt a truly happy grin cross my face for the first time in a long time.
Grandma.
I couldn’t wait to give her the good news.