She squinted up at me. "So you're telling me…you'll work for food?"
I nodded. "That's what I'm telling you."
"Oh, come on. You can't be that desperate."
"Can't I?"
She blinked, and I could see her trying to decide if this was an elaborate joke or a strange cry for help.
While she was thinking, I added, "I'd also need transportation."
Her eyes filled with mischief as a horse-drawn carriage clattered past. With a twitch of her lips, she asked, "You mean like a horse?"
I gave her a look. "Yougota horse?"
"No," she said, looking ready to laugh. "I'm just making a point."
"Which is…?"
"I know you're joking."
"AndIknow I'm not."
She hesitated. "Seriously?"
"Dead serious. But I'd still need transportation." I glanced toward the street. "And I'm no cowboy." The analogy didn't quite fit considering that every horse within sight was pulling a carriage. But the point remained. I wasn't about to saddle up – or sign on to feed something larger than myself.
Maisie asked, "So…you want a bike?"
"Not for keeps," I said. "Just to use."
"For how long?"
"We'll get to that later," I said. "But the wayIsee it, if I'm working at a bike shop, it's a decent perk. Cheap for you, nice for me. Call it a fair trade."
Her expression turned thoughtful. "So sandwiches and a bike."
"Anda lock."
"For the bike?" She gave me a funny look. "You wouldn't need one."
Yeah, right. "And why's that?"
She gestured toward the sidewalk. "You see any locks on those?"
I looked. Sure enough, at least a dozen bikes were lined up outside the café across the street – not a lock in sight.
"Huh," I said, taking all of it in. "Is that normal?"
"Here, it is."
I was still eyeing the bikes. "Unbelievable."
"Or maybe you just think so, because you're used to the city."
I looked back to Maisie. "Who says I'm from the city?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "Are you saying you're not?"