Author's note: Wow, one chapter posted and I've already got a ton of likes and even a few reviews! Thank you for your kind words and I hope the story lives up to expectations

Crystal Rhodes: That Bella, Edward and Jazz story sounds...interesting. I may have to check it out ;)

Donna: Thanks for the advice. I'll try to subdue the Englishwoman inside to allow me to spell the 'ou' words the American way-I can't promise anything though

Vadergirl2006: I can't wait to find out either! I've got some ideas, just got to think about which ones will work.

Matthias Stormcrow: Thank you, I'm glad you liked the chapter.

So, here we are ladies and gents, the next chapter for your reading pleasure.

Chapter two

The rain had actually decided to take a holiday for once. Although by no means summery, the grey covering the sky that morning was the brightest it had been since my arrival almost a week ago. It was so weird to live in such a wintery climate during the summer months. Charlie was still under house arrest or-as the rest of us like to call it-healing. He was due back to work the next day and I knew the wait was killing him. I couldn't think of many people as eager to go back to work as he, but I guess that showed just how much he valued his job. It must be comforting for a town to know that the person they trusted to keep them safe was so dedicated to the task. Speaking of jobs, I was all dressed up and ready to go start hunting for one myself. I had decided to forgo looking around Forks almost as soon as I had arrived. I knew my best chance of getting employed would be further towards Port Angeles, where there were far more businesses, thus more employment opportunities. The only downside to working out there was the travelling time, but it didn't bother me too much as the journey was a scenic one.

Charlie wished me luck as I grabbed my jacket and house keys from the kitchen counter and headed out the door, a folder of résumés in tow. I really hoped at least one interview would come of today's trip. Even if Charlie could afford to feed and house the pair of us, I didn't want to just sit around the house all day like a bum, sponging off him. Mom wouldn't be happy with that, either. And there was always the possibility of finding a job I actually enjoyed. I wasn't getting my hopes too high for that, though.

I had timed the journey quite well, leaving Forks just after the school and work run, so the traffic wasn't too awful. When I arrived in Port Angeles, it was still relatively quiet-too early for the shopping rush hour. After parking the car, I decided to scout for jobs in a clockwise fashion, starting with the little restaurant called La Bella Italia. I cringed a little at the thought of actually getting employed there. Nobody should share a name with the company they work for unless they own it. After that, there were a few little convenience stores, a supermarket, a dress shop and a bookstore. As soon as I entered the dress shop, I knew it was a dud. The women who worked in there were immaculately dressed, their hair perfectly styled. I entered in jeans and converse with windswept hair and knew they'd throw my résumé in the trash as soon as I left.

Despite the defeatist mood settling in my stomach, I walked over to the nearest employee. She had her back to me and was fiddling with the hem of a violet dress hanging on a mannequin. Before I could speak to make my presence known, she span round gracefully and I was stopped in my tracks. Petite and pale, with dark spiky hair, she was a gothic Tinkerbell brought to life. But it wasn't her enviable grace or beauty that made me pause, it was her eyes. Long black lashes framed big, round irises the colour of dark liquid gold. I had seen them before. Well, not those eyes exactly, but ones very similar only a few days ago. Since Charlie's accident, I had almost forgotten about the doctor at the hospital, but looking into the exquisite face before me instantly brought him back to the forefront of my thoughts.

"May I help you?" The young woman asked with a smile that flashed a set of perfect teeth. Seriously, how did this shop make any money? No amount of quality fabric was going to make anyone feel even remotely attractive next to this specimen of sickening perfection.

Realising she had just asked me a question, I stumbled over my words to reply. "I, um...I just wanted to hand this in," I explained, retrieving a piece of paper from my folder and holding it out to her. "I don't suppose there are any jobs going?"

The pixie took the résumé from me and skimmed over it quickly. "I don't think there are any vacancies right at this moment," she replied, confirming my suspicions. "But, if any do come up, we'll give you a call."

"Okay, thanks," I said graciously with a smile before turning to leave.

"By the way," called the young woman, her light, musical voice ringing through the air like delicate bells chiming in the wind. "Green isn't really your colour."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, caught completely off guard.

"That coat you're wearing. The dark green doesn't suit your colouring. You should try brown, grey or a steely blue. That'd look great with your pale skin and dark hair."

I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. It could have been taken as an insult, were the advice not given in such an innocently helpful way. I couldn't detect any malice in her tone or expression-she seemed to think she was genuinely helping.

"Oh...um...okay. Well, I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

"You're welcome," she said cheerily, before turning back to her previous task. I left the store before any more fashion advice could be hurled at me.

I continued down the street, still a little baffled by the recent exchange, although it had managed to temporarily throw my train of thought away from her unusual eyes. They were so much like that doctor's-were they related? If they were, maybe it was some kind of genetic thing, like heterochromia or something. I tried to remember what Charlie had called the doctor. It was something odd, kind of old fashioned and a name I hadn't heard anyone use before. Carter? Carson? Car-Car-Carlisle-that was it! My musings continued all the way to my next destination.

The tinkling of a bell accompanied my entrance into the bookstore. It was called Thunderbird and Whale, which made me fall completely in love with the place. It was such a bizarre name, yet fit the establishment perfectly. It was deceptively small looking from the outside and I couldn't resist having a look around before asking about jobs.

I headed straight for the fiction section, particularly interested in the shelves devoted to classical literary works. Skimming my finger along the spines, I saw all the names I'd come to know and love, including two of my favourites: Austen and Brontë. I picked up the copy of Wuthering Heights, thinking how odd it always felt to me to have such an old story contained within pages of such pristine condition. My own copy back in Phoenix was dog eared, with pages folded or notes scribbled in the margins and favourite quotes highlighted in yellow pen. I checked for a price on the back of the book and was disappointed to see I was a few dollars short. As I kept staring at it, a sudden urge to stuff the book into my jacket flared within me. It would be so easy, I knew, just to pocket the tome and casually stroll out of the store. Nobody would know, no one would be hurt and I'd finally have some decent reading material at home. My heartbeat increased as the familiar thrill of adrenaline surged through my veins and I glanced surreptitiously around me to see if anyone was nearby. Luck seemed to favour me as, at that moment, the store was nearly empty. My breathing quickened a little as I turned back to the book. There was a time, not so long ago, that I had been proud of my thieving abilities, managing to fund an almost lavish-if occasionally seedy-lifestyle because of it. Of course, it had also been part of the reason I found myself in my current position and my mom's voice came crashing through my thoughts, reprimanding me for such foolish behaviour.

"Hi there."

I almost screamed as I span to face the person addressing me. A middle aged man, barely taller than I, with short grey hair and a beard looked at me, a friendly, helpful expression on his face.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped, dropping the book and placing a hand over my heart to steady its wild rhythm.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his features arranged in their own brand of surprise at my reaction. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, no, it's alright," I assured as I tried to regulate my breathing. "I didn't realise you were there. In a world of my own."

"So I see," he laughed. "I was just coming over to see if you needed any help."

"Oh," I replied, all thoughts of theft forgotten. "No, I was just looking, thank you."

"Okay, then." He bent down to retrieve the Wuthering Heights from the floor. He passed it back to me after briefly glancing at the cover. "A good choice. Are you a Brontë fan?"

"Huh?" My mind was still trying to catch up. "Oh, yeah. Yes, yes I am. It's one of my favourites, actually."

"Oh really?" He seemed genuinely surprised-and pleased. "It makes a nice change to have a young woman reading something other than True Blood or Fifty Shades."

I offered a chuckle at the comment. "Yeah, they're not really my thing."

"Well, if you're okay here, I'll let you get back to browsing. If you need anything, just let me know."

"I will," I said with a smile, able to appreciate the assistance now that my heartbeat was back to normal. As he walked away, I turned back to the shelf and hastily shoved Wuthering Heights back into the empty space. Disappointment burned in my gut as I thought about what I had almost done. I promised mom I would behave, that I was better, back on track, reformed. And I had almost completely blown it. A small part of my brain tried to pardon me, reminding me that I hadn't actually stolen the book. Unfortunately, I was feeling a little too wretched at that point to listen.

Stepping away from the bookshelves, I suddenly remembered the folder in my hand and could have smacked my idiotic self. Looking around, I saw the grey-haired guy stood by the cash register and pulled a résumé out as I approached.

"Hi," I said. "I completely forgot to ask. Do you have any jobs going at the moment?"

Taking the piece of paper from my hand, he scanned it just as the ethereal girl in the dress shop had, although he seemed to actually process some of the words printed on it. I prayed he would say yes. Although I was willing to take whatever job I could get, of all the places I had applied, this was the only one I'd actually be happy to work. He rubbed his hairy chin, before looking back up at me.

"As a matter of fact," he began and hope quickened my pulse. "I have been considering taking on some extra staff for a while now."

"Really?"

"I'm afraid I can only offer a part time position right now, though."

"That's fine," I assured, trying to contain my desperation.

"Well, alright then," he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Tell you what, give me a few days and I'll give you a call about a start date. Can I take your number?"

"Sure," I agreed, pulling my phone from my right jeans pocket. Living up to the grace of my namesake as I did, I had managed to go through quite a few phones in my adult life, yet never managed to memorise a single phone number. He grabbed a pen and paper and I recited the digits to him.

"That's great," he murmured as he slipped the piece of paper into a filofax, before offering a hand. "I look forward to seeing you real soon. The name's Jerry, by the way-Jerry Matheson."

I took Jerry's hand and shook it, before offering my thanks and saying goodbye. As I left the store amidst the sound of gentle bell chimes, I took in a deep breath of the cool air outside. In the distance, I could see dark clouds gathering and knew a downpour was on its way. At that moment, I didn't really care because I (hopefully) had a job! Despite his protests, I knew Charlie would be pleased as it meant he'd have something positive to report back to mom.

After fumbling around the junk in my jacket pockets for my car keys, I was about to unlock the door, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Bella Swan, is that you?"

I turned to see a woman, roughly my age stood before me. With long dark hair, caramel skin and black rimmed glasses framing chocolate coloured eyes, I recognised her immediately.

"Oh my God!" she cried, her face glowing with pleasant surprise. "It is you. I had no idea you were back," Displaying no form of shyness whatsoever, she came forward and enveloped me in an embrace. "How are you?"

"Angela," I greeted, a little overwhelmed by the sudden invasion of personal space. "Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good," she replied, stepping back to get a good look at me. "I thought I saw you a while ago going into the dress shop, but it was from a distance and I didn't wanna make an ass out of myself in case I was wrong."

She gave a self deprecating laugh as she said this and I couldn't help joining in. Angela Weber was an old childhood friend of mine, although we had not been the ones to initiate the friendship. Our mothers were close friends when we were both born and we got kind of lumped together for convenience, but it turned out to be a good thing. She was quiet and unassuming, despite being blessed with the looks and physique of a supermodel and I had always made sure to spend at least a few days with her whenever I visited.

"So," she continued. "What brings you back here? It's been ages since I last saw you."

"I know," I said, working out how best to evade her question. "I'm sorry I haven't been down for a while, it's been quite hectic. What are you doing this way? I didn't think the holidays started just yet."

"Well, being the studious genius I am, I managed to get away for the holidays early. And I could ask you the same thing, Bella. Shouldn't you still be in Arizona?"

Damn it, she's too quick! I should have known I couldn't fool Angela that easily. "You're not the only genius, you know," I lied, praying she wouldn't pry further.

"What are you up to now?" she asked and I sent a silent thank you her way. "Wanna get a coffee?"

I did a quick mental check, confident I had enough for a cup or two. "Sure," I agreed. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Well, I've pretty much finished everything I needed to do here, so, if you're done too, how about heading back to Forks? I haven't visited The Lodge for a while."

"Sounds great," I concurred.

Angela had taken the bus up to Port Angeles, so she caught a ride back with me and it wasn't long before we were chatting like we had never been apart. I consciously let her do most of the talking and the motive wasn't completely ulterior. I was genuinely interested to hear how she was doing at Washington State University. She was studying photography and I always used to joke that she had been born with a camera around her neck. She'd had a drawer full of photo albums in her room at her parents' house, with countless more pictures adorning the walls and ceiling. I wondered if her current residence was in a similar state.

She was animatedly telling me all about an upcoming exhibition she had been invited to take part in when we arrived at The Lodge. I was happy for her; if anyone deserved success, she did. We entered the restaurant and a waitress gave us a small table right in the corner.

"So, when is it?" I asked, continuing our conversation about the exhibition.

"It's a few months away, but I haven't given them a reply, yet."

"Why not?"

Angela bit her lip, looking down at her clasped hands and her face projected uncertainty. "I..." She began, before taking a deep breath and exhaling deeply. "I'm not sure I'm good enough."

Was she crazy? Pictures were her life! And I may not know much about photography, but even I could tell she was good at it. "Surely they wouldn't have asked you if you weren't," I remarked, hoping to relieve some of her self-doubt. It wasn't a new task for me as she had always suffered from low self esteem. It was a product of the bullying she'd received at school for being at least half a foot taller than every other girl her age.

"Maybe," she offered, cynically. "Maybe not."

"Angela, don't be an idiot," I admonished. "Remember that photo you took of the lake where my dad goes fishing? The one you had printed onto canvas for him? Well, it's still there, his pride and joy, hanging on the living room wall. I don't think he'll ever take it down and you know my dad wouldn't put something up in the house if he didn't like it. For that reason alone, it's gotta be good."

"Okay," she relented. "Maybe you're right. I'm just scared, I guess."

"Well, it's a big thing, finally having your work put out there for all to see, but you deserve it," I assured, meaning every word, which I think she knew was true deep down. "And I expect an invitation."

"Of course!"She laughed. "I'll need someone to keep me sane."

At that point, our coffees arrived and we spent a few moments drinking in companionable silence. Sadly, Angela broke it by turning the topic of conversation to me.

"So," she said. "Enough about me. What's going on with you?"

I wondered what I should say. Although it would be easiest to lie, I wasn't that comfortable doing that to her. She was an empathetic person and never quick to judge, but just how understanding would she be when she found out about my "escapades"? Evasion had worked well so far, so I decided to carry on down that track.

"Nothing as exciting as what you're doing," I said, before taking a long sip of coffee. "It's hard to believe I'm friends with the next Mario Testino. Just think, this time next year-"

"Bella," Angela interrupted and I knew my evasion tactics had finally failed. "Is something wrong?"

I stared into my half empty coffee cup-or should that be half full? Again, that small part of me wanting to talk piped up, only to be beaten down by the more dominant, reticent part.

"I only ask," she explained. "Because you've skirted around the subject every time I've brought it up. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Having been asked outright, I couldn't really deny it and she'd know if I was lying anyway. Her insightfulness was both a blessing and a curse.

"This last year hasn't gone so well," I eventually admitted. "I did some stupid things and paid the price for it. I'd rather not go into detail right now, though. Is that okay?" I hoped it was.

"No, that's fine," she said, assuaging my fears. "Just as long as you're alright."

My heart swelled with gratitude at the concern she showed. I had missed Angela. If only I had acted on my consideration to study with her instead, I wouldn't be in this mess. After assurances that I was fine, we moved on to happier topics, although I made a silent promise to tell her exactly what had happened someday soon.

Time passed unnoticed by us as we talked and it wasn't until Angela happened to glance up at the clock hanging on the wall behind me that we realised it was almost five.

"God, I gotta go!" she exclaimed and we both left the cash for our drinks on the table before leaving.

Outside The Lodge, we hugged as she told me how great it was to see me again and I returned the sentiment.

"We must meet up again," she demanded.

"Absolutely," I agreed. "Call me when you're free."

With a promise that she would, we went our separate ways. The drive back home was quick and, after-hopefully-landing a job and catching up with an old friend, I was feeling rather buoyant. Now, all I had to do was keep said job and not scare off old friend with tales of my depravity. Easier said than done, I reckoned.

A/N: If anyone doesn't know, heterochromia is a condition where people have two different coloured eyes. I know a lot didn't happen during this chapter, but I'm still setting up character and plot and I promise stuff will start happening soon. Hope you enjoyed and I'll see y'all soon for chapter 3.