I Returned to the Day He Brought His First Love Home-Chapter 145: You’re the Biggest Danger, Alright
"All of you want me to help you buy clothes?" Grace asked, looking bewildered and incredulous.
"That’s right, Grace! We all heard about it. You bought Wendy Quinn three outfits for just three hundred yuan. A coat at the department store—and not even in as nice a style as the one you found—costs over a hundred by itself. We seriously want your help. The same standard you used for Wendy is perfect for us."
"Exactly! We can even pay you a service fee. How about one yuan for every purchase? What do you think?"
"And we can pay for shipping."
The girls’ faces were alight with excitement.
They were all Coronet locals and weren’t short on money; their families were all quite well-off.
Besides, they weren’t foreign language majors. Their fields of study placed a greater emphasis on appearance and fashion.
Grace considered this for a moment. "Okay, fine. But there are so many of you... I’m not sure if I can bring back that many clothes in one go. Why don’t you all come with me to the classroom first so I can take down your information? You can also tell me if you have any specific requests for the clothes. I’ll jot it all down and call my sister-in-law later to see if she can manage it."
"I won’t take the service fee, either. My sister-in-law is the one doing all the work, so you can just give the money directly to her when the time comes."
"No problem! Grace, you’re as kind as you are beautiful."
"Yes, yes, you’re just too kind."
And so, a whole crowd of them followed Grace back to the classroom in a flurry.
By the time Grace had registered everyone’s name, class, and preferences, over an hour had passed.
She shook out her sore hand, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
’I can’t believe the first money I’m earning in Coronet isn’t from starting a business or from my designs, but from being a personal shopper.’
’In my past life, I saw plenty of people who specialized in this kind of personal shopping, and they raked in the cash.’
’They made a killing by exploiting information gaps and price differences.’
’I never thought I’d get a taste of it myself.’
Since Grace wasn’t sure how many items she could manage, she only collected money from five people to start. They weren’t as flush with cash as Wendy Quinn, who had forked over three hundred yuan without a second thought, but each of them gave her a hundred.
When Grace got home, she gave the money to Irene Lynch and then went out to call Hayley.
Hayley was delighted to hear the news. "Grace, are you really sending business my way all the way from Coronet? This is wonderful! These orders from your classmates alone are equal to a whole week’s worth of my usual sales."
"I’ll be sure to pick out the very best for them."
Grace gave her a general rundown of their preferences and requests, then hung up.
Back at home, Irene Lynch mentioned she had some ideas for the shop’s design and wanted to go take a look with Grace the next day.
"Alright. Let’s finalize everything tomorrow, then. I have another assignment next week, so I probably won’t be able to come home on the weekend. If you run into any problems you can’t handle, go ask Sean York for help," Grace said after a moment of thought.
That evening, Grace sat in her room sketching. Drawing from memory, she produced several clothing designs that she planned to mail to Oscar Osborne.
The textile factory was now accepting outside design submissions, paying three hundred yuan per sketch. It was more than a regular salary, but it didn’t include any subsequent profit-sharing.
For Grace, this money was a decent source of income.
After all, buying the house and the shop had already cost a small fortune. The upcoming renovations would certainly cost even more. Every little bit she could earn would help.
Early the next morning, Grace and Irene Lynch went to the shop.
Irene Lynch explained her ideas while Grace sketched them out on a piece of paper, confirming details with her mother and making adjustments on the fly.
The two of them spent the entire day at the shop, making do with a couple of steamed buns they’d bought for lunch.
"This should be about it," Grace said, giving Irene Lynch a few last instructions. "When the renovation starts, if any other details need to be changed, you can just tell the foreman directly. Sean York probably knows some contractors. If he doesn’t, just ask around. There’s no need to rush."
Irene Lynch agreed with a smile.
She was filled with hope for the future.
"Why didn’t Dad come home today? Is he that busy at work?" It suddenly occurred to Grace that she hadn’t seen Gregory Winslow at home, even though it was Saturday.
Irene Lynch nodded. "He said he has something very important to do, so he won’t be back for a while. He’s been much busier since coming to Coronet than he was in Prospera Town. Plus, your father mentioned he got a promotion recently, so his work is different now. I don’t know the details, though. You know I never ask him about his job."
Grace found that a little strange.
’But Gregory Winslow isn’t an indiscreet person. He must have something truly important to take care of.’
She glanced at the time—it was already seven o’clock.
They had worked so late that she ended up having dinner with Irene Lynch. It was past eight by the time she left home, flashlight in hand.
But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she thought she heard footsteps behind her.
When she sped up, they sped up. When she slowed down, they slowed down.
’Am I being followed?’
’Don’t tell me I’ve run into human traffickers again.’
Grace was at a loss for words.
At this hour, most families had already turned off their lights and gone to bed.
There wasn’t much to do for entertainment back then, so people hadn’t become night owls yet. Most went to bed around seven or eight o’clock.
Grace quickened her pace, trying to get out of the dim alley as fast as she could. ’Once I reach a better-lit area, I won’t be so scared.’
In the empty, quiet alley, the footsteps sounded unnervingly clear and sharp. Each one felt like a heavy hammer blow against Grace’s heart.
Grace fought to control her fear, but in the dark, she didn’t see a stone in her path. She tripped, let out a cry, and fell to the ground.
Seeing her fall, the person behind her rushed forward even faster.
Grace squeezed her eyes shut, fumbled in her bag for her pepper spray, and was about to spray it at her pursuer.
"Grace, it’s me."
Just then, a familiar voice broke the silence.
Grace froze, her hand still on the pepper spray. She looked up at the person in disbelief.
In the dim light, the sharp angles of Archer Rhys’s face were softened, making him seem surprisingly more approachable.
"You... what are you doing here?" Grace asked, exasperated. "I thought I’d run into traffickers again."
’Following a lone woman late at night is hardly the act of a gentleman, no matter how you look at it.’
Archer Rhys looked helpless as he reached out to help Grace up. "I was on a mission nearby and saw you leaving. I was worried you might be in danger, so I decided to escort you from a distance."
Grace looked him up and down, skeptical. "Are your tracking skills really that bad? I heard your footsteps the whole time. You call that protecting me from the shadows? You *were* the biggest danger in the shadows."
"I need to get back to school, so I can’t talk. I... OUCH!"
Grace instinctively tried to take a step forward, only to feel a sharp, searing pain shoot through her ankle.
