The Texas air blew through the branches stirring brown and orange leaves and scattering them into the fiery horizon. The sun sat low in the bowels of the sky like a large flame dying slowly, its rays like spindly red fingers reaching out, trembling into the rising darkness. It was strange to watch the summer come to a close and the impending autumn hanging over the town thickly. The sky even looked different; tired and grey with colorless flat clouds introducing the soon to be cool change in the temperature. It was the slowest time for Strickland Propane because it was too warm to have the heater on, but too cool to have barbecues or parties. Hank hated the feeling that the autumn brought on because he knew that this would be the time he had to catch up on all the paper work he had neglected over the busy season. He sighed heavily and turned in his chair to face his window. Cars crept by the building in what seemed to be a lackadaisical atmosphere that had captured the whole town. It was strange. The quiet around him even made it stranger. The building had cleared out at about three o'clock with Mr. Strickland taking a lady friend to his cabin, Enrique and Joe Jack on calls out to Durndle refueling a few trailer parks and then Donna, of course, being out sick. Not that Hank minded. He rarely had a moment of silence and right now he soaked it up. He sharpened a pencil lazily and threw it down on his desk. It rolled nosily to the corner of a notebook and teetered on the edge of the large stack of papers that had accumulated in the center of the desk. Hank blew softly causing the pencil to roll off and hit the metal chair with a clunk.

"Excuse me," Came a tiny voice. Hank leapt from his desk nervously.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear the door," He said as he bumped into a char-king imperial and awkwardly knocked a few accessories to the floor. "Dang it. I'm sorry," He never met her eyes as he made a bumbling fool of himself, but he heard her chuckle warmly and she knelt beside him to help pick up the mess. "You don't have to do that. I can take care of this."

"No, I don't mind," She said softly, her slender fingers grazing the top of his hand. Hank looked up at her as she tended to the disarray he had created graciously, her golden hair falling over her face shielding her from his prying eyes.

"Thank you and pardon my clumsiness. I hope this doesn't affect your opinion of propane. We here at Strickland Propane require excellence in all we do and my behavior was unacceptable…" He rattled on inelegantly, tripping over words and finding it hard to speak properly. Heat rose into his cheeks and he could barely suppress his embarrassment as she put a hand over his mouth tenderly.

"No apologies necessary. It was an accident. Now, I was told by Buck Strickland that you were the man to see about a job," She was direct and outright. Hank gawked at her for a moment and snickered. Mr. Strickland had more often than once sent a mistress to work in the store, but Hank felt that it was inappropriate and made the workplace feel well… unclean. She handed him a few sheets of paper that appeared to be her resume. He only glanced and then shifted it to his other hand and behind his back.

"Well, we aren't really hiring at this time. In fact, it's coming up on our slow season. You can come back in January when we may need some more salespeople on the floor…" She cut him off quickly.

"I am not a salesperson. I'm an accountant," Her voice was sharp and she seemed to almost challenge Hank's power.

"Well, I'm sorry, but we currently have an accountant. She's out sick today, but she is technically a part of Team Strickland most days of the week," He turned and adjusted his glasses carefully. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

"That's not what I was told. I suggest you get on the phone to Strickland and straighten this out," Hank stared at her in awe of her audacity and complete rudeness.

"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?" He asked, his face reddening from irritation.

"I didn't say,"

"Well, can I at least get your name so I can tell him who I am referring to, Ms…." He looked at the paper she had handed him closely and he choked on his words.

"Scarla… Strickland," She said and the words were like a jab in his side.

"Ms. Strickland?"

"I am Scarla Strickland. Buck Strickland's niece," He suddenly felt stupid and ashamed of his tone that he had taken with her.

"Oh, I had no idea. I apologize Ms. Strickland. I'm Hank Hill, assistant manager," He put his hand out for her to shake, but she merely stared at him. "Um, okay. Well, I was unaware that you were going to be here today, so I don't really know what you should be doing. Mr. Strickland went to his cabin for the weekend."

"Well, I'm replacing the incompetent girl that worked in accounting before," She said matter of fact, adjusting her glasses. Hank didn't realize that Buck had arranged this and he looked stupefied for a moment.

"Oh, I didn't know," Hank stood uncomfortably and rubbed his neck.

"Well, you know now!" She exclaimed in an exasperated tone. "So show me to my office, or desk or whatever, so I can survey the damage."

He cleared his throat and pointed to Donna's desk. The desk was stacked with papers and folders and old empty soda cans. Hank saw her roll her eyes and he smiled a little.

"Donna didn't really do too much," He said as Scarla investigated the desk. She didn't respond, only an indignant snort left her lips. She pulled the financials from the shelves and flipped through them.

"This is a mess. It'll take me months to straighten things out!" She said quietly.

"Yeah I always wondered what the hell Donna did while she was here…"
"Well isn't it your responsibility as assistant manager to KNOW what she is doing… and everyone else for that matter?"

"Well hold on a second…"
"No, you hold on a second," her cheeks turned flush and she gripped a folder tightly in her hand. "This is Strickland Propane. These books are Strickland Propane and if you can't keep up with them, then you mind as well not be in business!" Her voice was sharp. "What if my uncle were to get audited? Hm? Do you know how much trouble he'd be in?"

"Look, I'll admit, I don't watch over everyone like a hawk, but I've been Buck Strickland's right hand man for over a decade! So you don't need to question my methods. I have been doing this job probably longer than you've been alive, missy!" He stared at her, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. She crossed her arms and stared a hole in him, as the front door opened and a customer came in.

"This is your fault," He heard her whisper as she began to go through the contents of the desk impatiently.

"Good afternoon! Something I can help you with, sir?"