The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

marveled at her parents’ capacity to show up for her on occasion, even though they had literally no idea what she did all day. Her father making fresh coffee was so sweet and startling that Dylan had almost hugged him. In fact, she would have if she hadn’t been in such a hurry. Surprising Henry with a hug could mean a substantial time delay, which was not in the cards. Dylan reasoned that later she would give him a bear hug and listen to whatever random joke he wanted to tell. Right now, she had bigger problems.

Rocketing toward her office, she thought through all the possible scenarios for the day. Jared might not even see the article until later in the afternoon. After all, reading through all her half-finished documents would take him forever. Dylan had almost talked herself out of a panic when a stuffed gift bag, strategically placed on a chair in someone’s cubicle, caught her eye. The expensive fleece glared back at her, taunting her with Steve Chou. Running back around to the front of the cubicle, Dylan yelped. This was Richard Chou’s desk.

Horrified, she two-stepped her way to her office, pinning the phone between her shoulder and ear as she opened her computer.

“Tim, it’s Dylan. If you get this, call me back. It’s an emergency. There’s a problem with the gift bags. I’ll try to pick them up before the rest of the staff gets here. Okay. Bye.”

Punching the red hang-up button, she tossed her phone on a stack of papers and dropped her head into her hands. There was a slight chance she could catch a few of the bags before the 7:00 a.m. shuttle buses arrived, but there was no way she could cover four floors of office space in twenty minutes. Not even if she took off her heels and ran. Dylan reached for her coffee, wondering if there was any way she could clear the early arrivals’ desks, then come back for the other staff who came in later. Just as she started to work out the details, her desk phone rang, causing her to jump.

For a second, she hoped it was Tim calling to say he had magically solved the problem and that Steve Chou was a fluke, but her caller ID said otherwise. Dylan almost laughed. Yesterday morning, Nicolas had been high on her list of concerns. Now he would just have to keep waiting.

By the time the voice mail notification flashed, Dylan was committed to trying to grab as many bags off the desks as she could. Or at least as many bags as she could without running through the halls and raising suspicion. Dylan envisioned herself looking stealthy as she wandered past desks, casually sipping her coffee and snatching bags while waving good morning to her coworkers. That could work. She would have to hide them near Tim’s office. No way could she fit all those bags in her little room.

Springing out of her chair, she made a beeline for the door, throwing it open rather recklessly for someone about to try to steal a warehouse full of goodies. Dylan squeaked, jumping two feet out of her skin. Deep was frozen mid–knocking motion, also startled by the sudden opening of the door. Clutching the stitch in her chest, Dylan blurted, “Thank God you two are here. I need your help.”

“Of course you do. What is it you need today?” Deep said, crossing her arms and leveling an intimidating stare at her.

Dylan paused, trying to sort out exactly what was happening. One minute she had been planning to commandeer two thousand goody bags, and now one very angry friend was strolling into her office, agitation radiating off her like perfume.

“I’m sorry. That was rude.” Dylan prodded in one direction, searching Deep’s face for a hint. “I was concerned about the bags on everyone’s desk and . . .”

Deep rolled her eyes, then glanced over her shoulder at Brandt, who was lurking in the doorway, looking uncomfortably between the two of them. With a short jerk of her head, Deep motioned for him to enter the room and close the door.

Dylan drew in a sharp breath as he turned back around to look at her, hurt written on his face. It was like watching a puppy get kicked. Worse, he had on his name-mismatched jacket. Guess she wouldn’t be stealing that one.

“Well?” Deep asked, drawing her back into the room.

Dylan stared back, hoping her face didn’t look as blank as her memory felt. She suddenly remembered the abrupt end to her day with Tim. “Shit. Did Tim not approve your expense check? I sent him an email, but I forgot to follow up with a conversation.”

Brandt started. “No. He didn’t do that, but it’s okay. I’m sure you were—”

“You don’t remember?” Deep burst. She hadn’t shouted, but the words carried the same level of intensity. “Lunch. Two days ago? You just disappeared.”

Dylan blinked in surprise. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Gesturing to Brandt’s jacket, she added, “I was under so much pressure with Kaplan I went out to get coffee and ended up working until three thirty in the morning. Then yesterday Tim went on the lousy rampage you are wearing, and I just blanked.”

“You blanked for two days?” Deep said, the tilt of her head changing with her skepticism.

“I did. I’m sorry.” The moment the response tumbled out of her, it felt empty. Glancing over at Brandt, who was busy investigating the carpet, Dylan searched for something more to say that would buy her some forgiveness.

“We thought you were hurt,” Brandt said, looking up suddenly.

“We thought you had gone out for coffee and were kidnapped or something,” Deep said, uncrossing her arms and pointing at Dylan. “We called you like fifty times. Instead you were out here sipping lattes and letting Tim make a fool of our pointless staff-appreciation group.” She exhaled loudly and retreated toward the door. Reaching for the handle, she added, “Look. I get it. You are