Peter was about to give up. And he never gave up. Finding employment in the Grey World was turning out to be far more difficult than he had ever imagined. Over the past few days he had gone into dozens of shops and offices, and they all asked him the same strange questions. Did he have a National Insurance Number? Where was his CV? Did he have any previous work permits? He had never felt so lost. He had no idea so much official paperwork went into obtaining a job. If he were ever to bring people to work in Neverland, he'd just ask them to reprogram a simple system and leave it at that.
Peter was trying to find work in the Grey World in order to earn enough to buy all the materials they needed to rebuild Neverland. But he had a nagging thought that he was also doing this to prove Wendy wrong, to verify that his life wasn't useless and that he could function just as well as she could in the Grey World. But his resolve was crumbling. His neck hurt from the park bench he had slept on the night before, and he didn't know if he could go back there again after that old lady with the beard had hit him repeatedly with some kind of stuffed cat that morning.
He was exhausted, frustrated, and he needed a pastry. He wandered into a familiar bakery and eyed some croissant sandwiches. It was busy with the mid day rush, and a balding man and a blonde girl worked frantically to fill all the orders. They kept running into each other and making mistakes. Meanwhile, the customers became impatient and some that were farther back in line left. Peter watched all this with mild interest for about 20 minutes until most of the customers had dispersed.
"May I help you?" The man asked Peter, his voice cracking with fatigue.
Peter stepped up to the counter. "You know, if one of you took the orders and the other made the food, things would go a lot faster. Also, you should keep the ham and the turkey separate. You kept mistaking one for the other."
The man narrowed his eyes at Peter and opened his mouth, then closed it and looked thoughtful. "Would you like a job?"
"Yes, I would," Peter said quickly before the man could reconsider.
"Good. You can start tomorrow at ten. We'll get all the paperwork figured out later."
"Fantastic. Thank you."
The man nodded once and grunted. "Susan, I've got to run out and buy more raisins. Would you take over for the next half hour?"
The girl flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Sure."
As soon as the man had walked out the door, she turned to Peter. She put her hands on her hips, cocked one shoulder and broke into an unnaturally huge smile. It was almost as if she were posing for a picture.
"Hi, I'm Susan."
Peter stepped back, a little wary of her sudden change in demeanor. "Yes, I caught that."
She let out a fluttery laugh and shook her head. "Well, what's your name?"
"Peter."
"That's a strong, handsome name. It suits you."
When Peter didn't reply, Susan stepped around the counter and sauntered over to him. He took a few more steps back as she approached.
"I'm so thrilled daddy is going to hire you. He's been so stressed ever since he took over the bakery."
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Mr. Glockenhuber, the owner. And I'm his daughter, Susan Glockenhuber. Although I'm eager to change the last name if you know what I mean."
"Ah..."
"Yes, I know it's hard to believe that he's my father, especially with the way he looks and the way I look."
Peter studied her for a moment. She noticed his eyes on her and preened. She was very beautiful, with long blonde hair and large blue eyes, but underneath it all was a desperation that was decidedly off putting.
"You have his nose."
Susan pouted for a split second and then returned to her too big smile. "Well, I suppose there had to be some family resemblance. But at least I didn't get his flat chest," she commented with a deliberate wink.
By this time, Peter had nearly backed up into the doughnut display. "Well, I better go. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."
"Oh, you'll definitely see me." Susan took another step towards him and lowered her voice. "And Peter, believe me when I say I cannot wait to make beautiful sandwiches with you."
It took all of Peter's resolve not to run out of the bakery.
*****
"Well, things are running loads better with you here, Peter," Mr. Glockenhuber said, beaming out at the orderly bakery.
It was true. Mr. Glockenhuber had started Peter out on the till, which he had mastered in about 15 seconds. Susan took the orders while her father filled them, and all the customers were served in a timely manner. But Peter was bored out of his mind. He had been standing in the same spot for two hours, doing monotonous tasks, and his body itched to run or jump. The only thing that kept him awake was coming up with new ways to sidestep Susan's advances. The girl was relentless, and she only seemed to curb her flirtations when she received a stern look from her father.
Another customer stood in front of Peter to pay for his meal.
"Where do you get these?" Peter asked, taking the man's card. Mr. Glockenhuber had told Peter they were called credit cards when he had asked, and he'd seen at least a dozen of them so far.
The man gave him an odd look. "You can get them at the bank, or in the post sometimes."
"Interesting." They had only ever used cash to buy things for Neverland, but if they could get one of these magical plastic rectangles, Peter was sure they'd be able to buy a lot more of the materials they needed.
At that moment, Mr. Glockenhuber came out from the kitchen and sighed. "The oven is acting up again," he said loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear. "I wonder if one day it might just blow up."
"I'll take a look at it," Peter offered, eager to do something else. Before Mr. Glockenhuber could stop him, he had slipped into the kitchen. He took a look around at all the appliances and noted several improvements that could be made. Finally, he opened the oven and got down on his knees to peer inside. Almost immediately he noticed that a screw was loose in the back and one of the rods was not connected. He replaced the rod and used his fingers to tighten to the screw.
"Hm, I could look at that view all day."
Peter started and hit his head on the top of the oven. He backed out and saw Susan watching him.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to have something to dream about tonight."
Before Peter could respond, Mr. Glockenhuber walked in.
"Well, did you figure out what the problem was?"
"One of the rods was disconnected," Peter said, standing and brushing some soot off of his shirt.
"Isn't that curious?" Mr. Glockenhuber said, scratching his chin nervously.
They all stared at each other for a few moments, and then Mr. Glockenhuber looked suddenly towards the front of the shop.
"I think I hear the phone ringing," he said, and walked abruptly out of the kitchen.
Peter didn't hear anything. He looked questioningly at Susan and she shook her head.
"Don't pay attention to him. He's been acting crazy for weeks."