She shook the thought off just as her desk phone rang.
“Honey Baxter, Assistant to the Director of Arcane Relations of the?—”
“Well, hello Ms. Fancy Pants,” Ruby said.
She looked into the headset as if to assure herself this was indeed her office phone. “How did you get this number? It’s supposed to be unlisted.”
“I have my ways.”
There was a crash in the background, followed by a muttered curse and the unmistakable sound of a spray bottle squirting. “Anyway, I dropped off those cans of paints and stuff in your apartment.”
“You can’t keep going into my apartment without permission. Didn’t I lock the door?”
“I have a very particular set of skills,” Ruby said. “Plus, we’re friends now.”
They were certainly friends, though Honey was still adjusting to the change. Ruby had a way of filling a room with chatter, energy, and brightness. When all Honey wanted to do was bury her head and the ache in her chest in mind-numbing television, there was Ruby pulling her out of it. It should’ve driven her mad, but truly, she found herself grateful for it. The laughter, the chatter, the way Ruby somehow made Honey’s small apartment feel less sterile and more like a home. It was disorienting, yes, but also a little wonderful.
“That doesn’t excuse breaking and entering,” she said, flipping open her calendar to see what was on the agenda for the day.
“Mm, I’m pretty sure it does.”
“You’re very strange, Miss Castillo.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there at five with takeout, and we can listen to sad music and cry and paint yourvery white walls a slightly less white shade.” There was a loud squelch through the phone, followed by, “Shit. I got blood on my pants. Anyway, how’s your first day?”
“It’s great,” Honey said automatically.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then the spray bottle resumed squirting. “Sometimes you sound like a robot pretending to be a person.”
Honey sighed. She’d felt that way all morning. This day was the culmination of ten years of hard work and strict standards; yet, she felt like she was watching someone else go through the motions.
“It’s just that the review is today.”
“Are you going to go?”
Honey’s stomach tensed. She glanced out the window, across the courtyard to the smaller, scruffier Municipal Services Building—the one that smelled faintly of popcorn and wet dog and held all the town’s magical oversight departments.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well,” Ruby said, “maybe you should go over there. Just to see how it turns out.”
“I should probably stay here. Keep my head down. My business life and my personal life?—”
“Are the same thing,” Ruby interrupted. “Like your hair and your face. It’s one head. Listen, I gotta go finish this job, but really, just go.”
Honey made a noncommittal sound and hung up the phone.
She glanced at the clock. 11:42.
Technically, she had time. The review was just across the courtyard and scheduled for 12:15. She could swing by on her lunch break. She was going to get the pizza from Jo’s anyway. Maybe she could take the girls after, cheer them upwith a slice and a root beer. She was an executive now after all. She could probably go over her strict thirty-minute break time.
She winced. What was she thinking? Pizza wasn’t going to fix this. One day back in the office and she was already back to thinking like a heartless bureaucrat.
Before she could spiral further, a firm knock sounded at her office door.
Mr. Aldridge popped his head in. “Ms. Baxter. Here are those quarterly assessment reports.” He slid a file onto her desk. And then started piling other ones on top. “And the revised zoning compliance spreadsheet. And the updated proposal templates. Oh, and you’ll need to finish inputting the transportation forms from last week. By end of day.”
When he’d straightened the stack of files, he stepped back.
