“Don’t let appearances fool you.” I clench my jaw.
I walk her back to my office and set the takeout container on my desk. I offer her a slice of pizza, but she doesn’t want one.
I’m quieter than usual. We both are.
“You okay?” she asks. “I know you’ve got a lot to do. I can come by another time.”
“I always have time for you,” I rush out. “Unless you’re tired and need to go? You had work and an interview.”
Hazel leans against my desk. “I’ve still got a little left in the tank. So, tell me. What’s up?”
I wait a few long seconds before finally admitting, “I’m just trying to remain calm, I guess.”
I leave tomorrow for Maine, and I already know I’ll be putting Richie in a tough spot.
“Did something else happen?”
“It’s all fine,” I say. It comes out forced.
She nods slowly. “Well, that right there”—she points at the spot between my eyebrows—“tells me otherwise.”
I drag my hand over my face. “Better?”
She smooths out the lines on my skin. “Now it is. What are you working on?”
I grunt. “We have this new Excel payroll system, and I need to fill out the hours today, but the system’s messed up.”
“Oh, I can help you,” she offers.
“You know payroll processes?”
“I know Excel.”
I show her the problem on my laptop. She sits in my chair and starts typing.
“I do most of my data work in Excel,” she says a few minutes later. “It’s not ideal, but…” She turns my laptop to face me. “You should be able to plug in your crew’s hours in that cell.”
I exhale in relief. “Thank you. You’re a wizard.”
“Actually, I’d be a witch—”
As she says this, there’s a loud crashing noise out on the stage. It’s the faux antler chandelier from the dining room set.
Hazel jumps up and runs over to assess the damage. I’m close behind.
“Is this how bad it is still?” she asks.
“It would’ve been worse if someone had been under it.” If Richie had waited for me to let everyone go for the day, someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt.
She kneels and pokes the dull tip of a faux antler. “Should we try to save any of this?”
“It’s mostly wood. I’ll work with props to get a new one made.” I add the task to my growing to-do list. “That wasn’t my best work anyways.”
I grab a broom and a garbage bag and start sweeping as Hazelcollects the larger pieces. “This is stressful. And dangerous,” she says, shaking her head.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say on instinct. I shrug like I’m trying to prove how relaxed I am, but it ends up looking like I’m trying to touch my shoulders to the tip of my ears.
“Actually, nothing about this seems okay. Like at all,” she says.
