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Chapter 21
Rory settled into a routine as mid-November approached, due a great deal to Grant’s regularly scheduled weekend visits. After his manager returned from vacation, Grant was able to turn the Mousehole over to him and stay with Rory through Saturday morning and afternoon. She made a point of not even turning on her computer when he visited, and together they explored more of the neighborhood and surrounding enclaves.
When he wasn’t there, she still worked constantly. No one at Digicore had set hours, but most of the others didn’t get to the office until nine or ten, so Rory arrived by six and worked in relative quiet. She answered emails, checked code reviews and log files, studied debugging reports, and worked on her own code.
Her supervisor Brenda didn’t mention the AI cloud project again, and since Rory had plenty of experience with unfounded rumors and unfulfilled promises, she didn’t take the radio silence personally.
In an effort to establish her tribe, she had lunch with Joanna Taylor and several other women who worked for different tech companies, and she attended a networking conference in San Francisco.
Her mother and sisters all drove up for visits, she kept updated on Hunter and Aria’s plans for Mariposa Street, and she made plans for a Thanksgiving trip back to Bliss Cove.
All in all, it was working out as best as she could have hoped for.
She learned to tolerate the open space of The Hive, deflecting coworkers who suddenly came up behind her to remark on her code or tell her she was doing it wrong. She established mutually respectful working relationships with several colleagues and gained a great sense of accomplishment when the project neared its final stages.
“You’re out.” Douglas held up the empty bag of gummy bears from her desk.
“I know. I can’t believe I let that happen.” Rory leaned back in her chair, eyeing the code that wasn’t working. “I have to stop at the gas station during lunch, so I’ll pick up a new supply.”
“Can you get me some Starbursts?”
“Sure.” She stood and stretched her lower back, then zipped up her hoodie. “I’ve got a bug somewhere, but I can’t find it. I’m going to take a break.”
She secured her computer and maneuvered through all the desks and chairs to one of the breakrooms. Her phone buzzed with a text from Joanna confirming their one o’clock lunch date and adding,I need to make a stop at an antique store not far from your office, so I’ll pick you up.
Figuring she could fill her gas tank on the way home, Rory texted back:That would be great. I’ll wait for you outside.
She took a mug from the breakroom cupboard and picked up the coffeepot. The coffee had a sharp, bitter scent and looked like mud—probably because it had been sitting there for hours. She dumped it out and scrounged around for filters and coffee grinds, which always ended up in different places.
Opening a lower cupboard, she found a package of filters and started to shut the door.
Cold slithered down her spine. A large, messy sheet of paper was taped to the inside of the cupboard door, bearing a crude drawing of a large-breasted woman with long dark hair.
Rory pulled the paper off and straightened. The woman in the drawing wore a skimpy bikini that concealed little, and her face was a caricature made up of exaggerated bow-shaped lips and fluttering eyelashes. A lengthy column on the left side contained cryptic scrawls in various handwritings—JTD, 1x, Nov. 7, DTK, 3x, Oct. 20, 25, Nov. 2, MPL, 2x, Nov. 5 &10.
Her breath shortened. The cold intensified, hardening into a tight ball in the middle of her chest.
“You want me to take a look at your code?”
Rory jerked her head up at the sound of the male voice. Douglas stood in the doorway, a mug in his hands. His gaze went from her to the paper and back again. Two spots of red appeared on his cheeks.
Rory crumpled the paper in her fist and held it up. “What the fuck is this?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged, his color deepening. “Just some harmless fun.”
“It looks neither harmless nor fun to me.” She tried to keep her voice even. “What is it, Douglas?”
He averted his gaze and scratched his head.
“Are you going to tell me, or should I take this straight to HR?”
“John started it.” A faint, childish whine infused his voice.
Rory almost choked on a humorless laugh. “Whatisit?”
“It’s just a game, okay?” He scowled in defensiveness. “To see who…you know.”
“I don’t know.” She gritted her teeth. “But it’s pretty clear this is supposed to be me. What’s the game, Douglas?”
