Page 101 of Hale Damage
A woman walks out from the back, wiping her hands on a white cloth. She looks vaguely familiar, and it takes me a second to recognize her as one of the women my mother helped years ago. Mom ran a shelter for women trying to escape abusive relationships, and this pretty lady, Clarissa, was one of them.
“Remington Hale! As I live and breathe. I almost didn’t recognize you with the beard.” She beams at me and tosses out a traditional Southern greeting. “How’s ya momma ‘n’ them?”
“Everyone’s good, Ms. Clarissa. Mom’s staying busy, as always. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
“You do that. She’s a good lady. I wouldn’t have this bakery without her.” She leans forward with her elbows on the counter. “What can I do for you today? I saw you eyeballing the cookies.” She sings the last word with a playful, taunting lilt.
“I’ll take the rest of those peach pie cookies. They’re absolutely delicious.”
Her face lights up. “Aren’t they though? They’re my helper’s recipe.”
As she begins placing them into a small box, I say, “I also wanted to talk about my account.”
Pausing, she looks up at me with a questioning eyebrow. “What account would that be?”
“The Hale Cosmetics account. My assistant brings in cookies from Whisk and Whimsy every morning.”
“Oh, Mindy, yes? Isn’t she a gem? I wish I could hire her full time.” Clarissa continues putting the cookies into the box. “I still don’t know what account you’re talking about.”
I’m still trying to decipher thehire her full-timeremark. “Like I said, Mindy brings in cookies to the office every day. To Hale Cosmetics,” I add pointedly because I think we’re speaking different languages.
Clarissa closes the box and laughs. “You don’t have an account. I give Mindy those cookies as an employee perk.”
It dawns on me. “Mindy works here?”
“Of course she does. Every morning she comes in and makes our cookie of the day. Fast worker, that one. She can whip up twenty-five to thirty dozen in less than two hours. I always give her two dozen of that day’s cookies for free. I offered her that or an extra thirty dollars a day, and she chose to take the cookies so she could share them.”
I shake my head to clear my brain. That’s why she brings a different kind each day of the week. “What time does she come in here?”
“Oh, about four, though lately she’s been coming in about thirty minutes earlier.”
“And the cookies she brings aren’t charged to the Hale account?”
“Nope, those are hers. And like I already told you, you don’t have an account here.”
My forehead is starting to hurt from frowning so much. “Well, I’d like to open an account and start paying for the cookies. Except I don’t just want the cookie of the day. I’d like a variety, including at least three of the peach pie ones with every order.”
Clarissa tilts her head and looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “You want to pay for something you’re already getting for free?”
I nod and pull out my company card. “I do. I was under the impression Mindy was using the expense account to buy them for the office anyway, so it’s fine. Instead of giving her free cookies, you can give her the extra money.” I hold the card between my index and middle fingers and wave it at her. “I’ll pay full price for the cookies plus a generous tip for the delivery service. You get more money, Mindy gets more money, and I get my favorite cookie every day. Everyone’s happy.”
Clarissa laughs and snatches the card from me. “Who am I to deny folks their happiness?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
God, I miss Joe
Mindy
This phone is drivingme crazy. I’m not sure if it’s a full moon or what, but the calls have been incessant this afternoon. And I feel like a damn elephant is sitting on my bladder.
I finally catch a break around 3:45 and stand up from my desk, prepared to sprint down the hallway to the restroom. But of course, my boss chooses that time to stick his head out of his office.
“Ms. Espinoza, can you come in here for a second?”
Shit. “I, uh, sure,” I agree, doing a kind of squeezed-leg penguin walk into his lair.
Remi loosens his tie and nods toward the leather chairs in front of his desk. “I wanted to chat with you before the massage therapist gets here. You can sit.”
