“All right, Elijah,” I said, trying to keep my concerns from seeping into my voice. “Time to pack your lunch so we can leave.”
“Okay, Grandma,” he replied. Thanks to his time with Gabriella in the kitchen, Elijah was eager and able to make his own lunch. He made a simple turkey sandwich, threw some chips in a plasticbag, grabbed a banana, and asked me for cash to purchase a cold drink from the machine.
“You got it,” I replied, with what I realized was a little too much cheer. It was weird being in the kitchen without Gabriella or the mention of her. It alarmed me how quickly Elijah caught on to this grown-up game of Don’t Mention the Obvious when it came to fearful news. He was wise beyond his ten years. I know people mean that as a compliment, but it’s not, because that often means the kid didn’t get to have a childhood.
So I decided to let him engage with his feelings on our way to the day camp. “You got anything on your mind?”
“Miss Gabriella,” he whispered.
“Me, too. But you know what? She’s a grown-up. She doesn’t have to tell us where she is all the time, you know?”
“I know.”
Really, I was two inches away from calling 9-1-1.
Once I had dropped Elijah off, I headed to work, where I forced myself to focus on the task ahead. Today, I would learn the new software for scheduling and uploading workshop descriptions, taking payments, checking registration, and compensating the facilitators. It was a big day, and I couldn’t afford to let my concerns about Gabriella interfere.
As I settled into my desk, I reminded myself how grateful I was for this job. It was giving me the confidence I needed to prove that I could still function well and lead an independent life. In fact, I realized just how much I needed work—more than I had initially thought.
“All right, Joyce,” my coworker Susan called out cheerfully. “Are you ready to dive into this software?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, forcing a smile.
“Great! Let’s get started, then,” she said, pulling up a chair beside me. She smelled of patchouli and lavender, the kind of fragrance that made me think she’d once been a free-spirited hippie with dreams of changing the world. The faded, intricate tattoos on her forearms only added to that impression. Susan split her time between the recreation center and the city manager’s office. I needed to learn this system so she wouldn’t have to run back and forth, and that required my undivided attention.
As we worked through the program, I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. My brain felt like it had done somersaults, but it was still sharp, and I could adapt to new situations.
When our first break came, two hours and two notebook pages full of handwritten notes later, my concerns about Gabriella resurfaced. So I called over to her workplace.
I was happy when a female voice answered the phone. “Hello, this is Joyce. I’m with the city of Robin Creek, and I’m trying to reach Gabriella Santos. Is she there?” So far, so good. No lies. Ididwork for the city’s Parks and Recreation Department.
“I’m sorry, but she’s busy prepping for the day. May I take a message and have her call you when she gets a free moment?”
This was some old-school phone micromanaging. No wonder folks kept their devices on them at all times! My true crime mind conjured up this idea that the woman on the phone was Lorenzo’s other girlfriend. She and Lorenzo had kidnapped Gabriella. They were holding her hostage in a back alley. And it was a good thing I hadn’t given her my last name so they couldn’t come looking for me.
“You said she is present at work, though, right?” I double-checked.
“Yes. Are you, like, her mom?” The voice attempted a laughthat came out more like a snort. Somehow, that snide question erased my thoughts about the kidnapping. The woman on the phone was too goofy to kidnap Gabriella.
“No. I’m with the city. I’ll call her later.” My trembling hands ended the call. I ate a few graham crackers, went to the ladies’ room, and then returned to my desk a few minutes early to continue working.
“Hey, are you okay?” Susan asked, probably noticing my furrowed brow.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, shaking my head to clear away the concern. “Just trying to absorb all this information.”
“You’re doing great,” she reassured me. “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling genuinely at her encouragement. Time to get back to work.
Before lunch, I had a decent grasp on the software, and I felt more confident in my ability to handle it. I wished Terri could have been there to see me glide through the workflow.
Somebody called for Susan to come to the front desk, so we decided to break for lunch. But before I could log out of the computer and get my purse, Susan reentered my office carrying a small bouquet of flowers. There were daisies, sunflowers, and soft pink carnations, with tiny sprigs of baby’s breath delicately woven between them. “These just arrived for you.”
“Really?” I said, my curiosity piqued.
As Susan placed the bouquet on my desk, a smile crept across my face. The vibrant colors and delicate petals seemed to brighten up the room instantly. I opened the card attached to the bouquet and read it aloud.
“‘Happy new job, friend. From Richard.’”
