Page 76 of In a Word, Yes

“What in tarnation is asnood, anyway?” Dot asks, loitering in the reception area on what promises to be a routine Wednesday morning. “They’ve obviously run out of five-letter words. Now they’re just making stuff up.”

“Right?” I say with a laugh. “This one’s legit, though. It’s that weird protuberance of pink skin that hangs from a turkey’s forehead.”

Also, this marks the first time I’ve ever spoken the wordprotuberance. It feels yucky in my mouth.

Or is my dry mouth due to the wild reality that a certain affable sheriff’s lieutenant will be popping over to watch TV with my son and me this evening?

It’s possible I’ve gotten a little carried away with my yeses.

Nothing that warrants frittering the whole day away in rumination, Lucy.This week’s paper landed in mailboxes today, and all is as it should be.

“You mean that thing under its chin?” Dot wags a hand in front of her neck to demonstrate.

“That’s a wattle.”

“Good grief. Who names these things—”

“You guys!” Meg doesn’t often snap unless it’s at Brad, but here she is all of a sudden, looking wild-eyed at the two of us.

The air shifts. Dot and I freeze.

“Sorry,” she says. “But do either of you know another way to get ahold of Marshall? He was supposed to be here by now, and he’s not returning my calls.” Meg sweeps a hand over the side of her head, where the hair is clipped short, and leaves it there. Today she has coerced the bleached top portion into a front swoop. “Steph will be here any minute. This is a disaster.”

As keeper of the contacts list, I open a doc on my screen and scroll to our list of freelance photographers. “Let’s see...” Meg and Dot hover over my shoulder. “I got nothing, other than his cell. Where’s Sam? He might know.”

Dot shrugs. “He’s coming in late. Called to say he’s ‘up to his neck in alligators,’ whatever that means. Meg, did you ... did you say Steph Stoneback is cominghere? As in,herehere?”

I scramble for ideas. “Marshall coaches volleyball this time of year, but...” Needless to say, it would be a long shot to find him at the high school in the morning, since practices are held after school.

Nevertheless, Dot dashes away to call the school.

Meg buries her face in her hands and emits a noise that sounds like a puppy whining. “Of all the days for him to hang me up, Lucy. This is unbelievable.” She drags herself back to her office looking more defeated than I’ve ever seen her. I follow, my ankle boots clacking across the wood floor. There must be something else I can do.

“What about Luna?” I say. “Isn’t she always looking for work?”

“Last time I heard from Luna, she was playing hardball, negotiating for a higher rate.”

“Sheisquite good.”

Dot rejoins us, wearing one of her rare frowns. “Sorry to say, they don’t expect Marshall at the high school at all this week. The assistant coach is covering while he’s away. Hunting trip.”

Meg exhales a groan. “Great. Just great. He’shunting.” She drops heavily into her chair, limbs splayed out, looking like a Billy Idol rag doll. “A little communication might’ve been nice.”

“Probably got his dates mixed up,” I say.

“Right.” Meg rolls her eyes. “It’s not like I can take the photos myself. Roped climbing requires two people. I can’t do the whole GoPro thing and put the author at risk, even if she did sign a release. Way too sketchy.”

“Excuse me, Meg,” Dot says. “A minute ago, did I hear you say the author is comingherefirst? As in, this morn—”

Sam’s words come back to me. Words about pulling together. Keeping costs in house as often as possible.

“Is it something I could do?” I say. “I mean, I know my way around a camera.”

Dot’s holding a compact mirror and carefully applying coral lipstick. She snaps it closed and gawks at me.

Meg’s out of her chair, eyes wide. “You mean it? Heck yeah, you could do it. Except...” Eyeing me up and down, she frowns.

I’m a little ashamed that my willingness to flex—or, heaven forbid, change out of my wool skirt and tights—comes as such a shock to my coworkers.