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He shook his head. “No clients heard you, so I’m not too shook up. I’m surprised it took you this long.” He narrowed his eyes in concentration. “Whydidit take you this long?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay, well, I need you two to be able to work together. You both do good work, and I don’t want to lose either of you, but I also can’t have cat fights in my office.”
She tried to hide her wince.
“I understand why you snapped, but let’s try not to snap again, okay? Save that for when you ladies go to the bar, okay?”
She ground her teeth together so hard that pain spiked through her jaw. She nodded.
“Okay, thank you.” He glanced at the door.
She took his cue to leave, wondering why he’d even called her in there in the first place.
Denise had disappeared, and Samantha didn’t spare Miranda a glance as she made her way back to her seat.
She didn’t finish her spreadsheet. Instead she started looking for job openings. Lots of things were changing in her life, and this job could be one of them. She’d never thought about leaving, not seriously, but she had a lot more options than she used to—now that she was sober.
Her breath caught as a new idea hit her:that’swhy she’d never blown up before. The booze. Of course she’d been mad at those two bimbos before, but the booze had always taken the edge off. She’d literally poured a nip into her coffee when Miranda had asked her if she’d bought her dress at the Amish thrift store. And now, when those women had tried to steal her chocolates, she hadn’t taken a nip. Instead, she’d freaked out.
She exhaled slowly and fully. If sobriety was going to bring surprise emotional outbursts, then she was going to need to buckle up.
Chapter 20
Carrying a beautifulred box with a misshapen top, Samantha stepped outside and headed for the small parking lot alongside their office building. She was watching her feet, so she didn’t see the spectacle until she realized that Denise was blocking her path. She looked at Denise, who was staring at her car. Samantha’s eyes followed hers, and she gasped.
The scene before her was confusing. Someone had painted on her car, and her first thought was vandalism, but the vandal had also tied more than a dozen balloons to her mirror.
That didn’t make much sense.
She stepped closer so she could read the words on her car and smiled broadly. Of course.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
