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I didn’t like the uncertainty, so I decided to stop thinking about it.
I rode down the elevator with two women who were talking adamantly—aka, pretty much arguing—over a jacket design they were working on together.
“I’m telling you, patched elbows are making a comeback. We need to hop on that train before it takes off without us.”
“No. No, no, no, no. We’re not selling to retired old professors here. The only jackets they need to pick out is what to wear in their casket.” Turning to me, the woman said, “Tell her. Please.”
I shrugged. “With the right model, you could make anything look good.” I thought about Ezra in a suit jacket with patches on the elbows and had to admit, he’d look amazing. Then again, he couldn’t not look amazing. “I mean, Indiana Jones made the bow tie hot, didn’t he?”
“See,” the first woman said, nudging her friend smugly and then pointing my way. “She likes the idea.”
Now, I hadn’t said I was a total fan, so I quickly added, “At least it can’t hurt to try. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen if you tested it out and didn’t like it?”
Both women paused to consider that. With a relenting nod, the second said, “Okay. No guarantees, but I’ll at least consider it with some visual sampling.”
“Thank you! Oh my God, yes. That’s all I’m asking. And heck, if they end up looking all wrong, I’ll be the first person to tear the designs apart.”
“Deal.” The women grinned at each other before turning to me in tandem. “Thanks,” they said together.
“No problem.” I grinned back, feeling good about helping, when the elevator stopped on the first floor to let us out.
I waited for the friends to leave first and then I strode out into the front foyer, only to hear a familiar voice calling my name.
“Kaitlynn? Oh my God, Kaitlynn! It really is you.”
I glanced around, only to see Shyla hurrying toward me, a smile on her face but tears in her eyes.
“Shy—” I started, only to oomph myself out of breath when she plowed into me, hugging me hard.
“You’re back. Oh, thank God, you’re back. I can’t believe she asked you to come back. But I’m so happy. You have no idea how terrible it’s been. Without you around, she’s been a… A complete…”
When she realized she was about to say something terrible about her boss in public, Shyla gasped, her eyes going big before she slammed her mouth shut with a slap of her hand and glanced around to make sure no one had heard her.
Instead of telling her I wasn’t back to work for Lana anymore, I took in her red-rimmed eyes and trembling fingers she held over her mouth. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She dropped her hand only to shake her head. “No-nothing… Nothing.” Then she tried to laugh it off, only to hiccup a sob.
My gaze went sympathetic and cautionary all at the same time. “Shyla,” I said.
She broke. “I can’t,” she blubbered. “I just can’t make the tea like you did. I mean, I’ve never tried. But I know I’d never be able to, so I just buy it for her every day. Except today…” Her shoulders trembled as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Today, I spilled it, and I need to hurry back to the shop down the block to get more, but she’ll be here any minute, and she’ll be so mad if I’m not there when she arrives, but—”
“Shh. Hey, shh,” I said, patting her hand and offering her a bolstering smile. “It’ll be okay. How about this? I’m already headed to the coffee shop, so I’ll just go get the tea for you. Then I’ll deliver it to your desk as soon as I get back so you don’t have to leave the office at all if you don’t want.”
“Oh, Kaitlynn. Would you? That would be great. You’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She opened the top flap of her purse and began to dig some cash from a change purse. “Here’s some money. And she likes the Tung Ting Oolong because of the gentle taste.”
I just stared at the money as she shoved it into my hand.
“Shyla,” I started, looking up at her. “You haven’t been paying for her tea from your own pocket, have you?”
Shyla flushed and glanced away before wiping the back of her hand across the underside of her nose. “It beats being fired.”
I sighed. “Well, no more. If she won’t buy her own tea, I’ll come and help you brew it by hand every morning until you get it right. Okay?”
“Come and help me?” she asked with a slight twitch in her eyebrows. “But why won’t you just be—”
“And you take this back,” I insisted, pushing the cash at her. “You’ve paid enough for her drinks. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Waving with a big grin, I turned away and hurried back outside.
I was gone ten, maybe twelve minutes. The shop was a two-minute walk away and there hadn’t been a line for me to wait in, so I thought I’d been making excellent time when I returned with Lana’s tea—a lid securely latched on top so no lint could get into it—and Brick’s donuts.
