Page 58 of Show Me

The door bangs open and Travis stomps in, boots tracking sawdust across the floor. “Tell me we got the Keller permit….” He stops when he sees her. “Oh. We got a receptionist.”

“Ruby,” she says, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met before.”

Travis blinks, then shakes it. “Travis. I complain a lot. Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t.” She nods toward the file cabinet next to Dad’s desk. “Permit’s in the green folder. Mr. Cole filed it yesterday.”

Travis looks at Dad. “You filed something?”

Dad grunts. “Don’t get used to it.”

Travis grins and heads back out, already shouting for Mark while Ruby writes something on the legal pad and tucks it under the keyboard.

“You reorganized the folders?” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the file cabinet.

“They weren’t in order.”

“They were.” Dad clears his throat. “Just in an order that didn’t make sense to anyone but me.”

He avoids my gaze and flips a page in his ledger. Ruby’s mouth twitches. The phone rings again. She answers on the first ring.

“Cole Construction.” She listens, nods, writes something down. “We can schedule that for Thursday. Yes, sir. We’ll call the day before to confirm.” She hangs up and updates the board, keeping the day’s work in order.

The office feels different. More efficient. Less chaotic. Ruby fits in faster than I expected. She’s not just answering phones; she’s making the place run the way she wants it to.

There are no signs of lunch near her. I don’t know why I care. Of course I care. I’d want any receptionist to take the time to eat.

“Have you eaten?”

I don’t want her to get so absorbed in work that she forgets to take care of herself.

She glances at the clock. “It’s past two.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She smiles, small, quick, gone before I can decide what it means. “No.”

Dad slides a granola bar across the desk without looking up.

Ruby blinks. “Thank you.”

He grunts as she comes around the end of her desk and snatches it up. That’s practically a welcome banner.

The door opens again, and Mark sticks his head in. “Whoever answered the phone told the lumber yard we need the delivery split.”

Ruby raises a hand. “That was me. The driveway on Oak can’t fit the full load.”

Mark studies her with a quirked eyebrow. “You been out there?”

“Not today.” She shrugs. “But I know the driveway at that address. There’s no way that much lumber would fit. You’d have to stack some of it out in the street or on the grass. I don’t think Amy would like the grass she’s been working on for months to get destroyed, so I called it in.”

“Fair point.” Mark grins first at her and then at me. “She’s going to fit right in.” He disappears.

I cross my arms, watching her update the delivery board. She’s efficient. Calm. Unflappable. Safer.

The last word lands in my chest before I can stop it. I’m not just noticing her work. I’m thinking about who has access to her here. If someone wants to get to her, they’ll have to go through me first.

The phone rings again. She answers. Dad doesn’t rub his forehead or tug at his hair, and no one argues about the schedule.