Page 21 of In Her Candy Jar

"What conference room?" he asked, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth.

"I don't need your help," I countered. "I'm just admiring the view."

"But you're standing in front of me," he said.

Did he just—

"There you are!" I heard Tara screech. "Mr. Svensson is very busy. Stop wasting his time."

Tara did a bad imitation of the longing sigh of a Disney princess in Mace's direction then gestured impatiently for me to follow her. We turned left, not right, and then we were at the conference room. I set the box on the table.

"What is all of this?" Tara asked as she opened up the lid to the box I had filled with paper, colored markers, and stickers.

"You said you were brainstorming, right?" I said. "So you need something to get the creative juices flowing. I brought a few things."

"You need to bring refreshments," Tara sneered. "That's what you do. You fetch coffee. You are not part of the marketing team."

"If I wasn't supposed to bring this, then where's all your brainstorming stuff?" I argued.

Tara pointed to one solitary easel.

"That's it?" I asked, incredulous.

"This is all we need," Tara said.

I was about to make a nasty comment about the state of Mace's PowerPoints and the marketing collateral generally, but I was trying to make it through the week without being fired. I couldn't ruin Marnie's reputation—she had stuck her neck out for me. The least I could do was not insult people every five minutes, even if they deserved it.

"I'm off for coffee, then," I told Tara.

I filled pitchers of water and coffee from a nearby breakroom and was setting them out on the table when Willow walked in. She gave me a brief hug.

"Stay strong," I whispered to her.

"No promises."

Tara stood in front of the room and cleared her throat, watching me. "You can go now."

"Let me know if you need anything else!" I chirped.

See? I'm turning over a new leaf.

12

Mace

Imade Josie stay late that night. She was organizing the notes from the Platinum Provisions meeting to send out. I watched her through the glass partition wall. She seemed stressed as she typed up the notes. Good. She would be gone for sure by the end of the week.

I sent her several emails with busywork like reorganizing the supply closet and inventorying the breakroom snack supply.

"Did you receive my messages?" I asked her from the doorway between our offices. She looked up at me. A few tendrils of her curly hair had escaped from her bun. I longed to tuck them back into place… but only because I wanted it to be orderly, not because I wanted to touch her hair.

"You want that done tomorrow?" she asked. I noticed a slightly hysterical edge to her tone.

"Of course," I replied. "While you're at it, survey everyone in the office to see if they want different breakroom snacks."

"I'm sure they do," she muttered.

"What was that?"