Page 106 of I Hope This Finds You Well

“Do you still know how to crochet?” I nod at the plush coaster sitting under her mug.

“Of course.”

A light bulb goes off. “Rhonda! I have this neighbor girl. It’s sort of a long story, and she’s really awesome and so interested in learning to crochet but having trouble. Would you come teach her? And me too? Maybe this weekend?”

“Jolene, you don’t have to...” Again she seems to shrink into herself; her fists curl in.

“I’m notdoinganything.” I march to my cubicle and hold up the zebra, only partially aware of the curious onlookers. “She made me this. She’s really trying to learn.” Rhonda blinks. Her stare turns wistful as I march back toward her cubicle. “Do you think you could help her? Even teach me too?”

I hand Rhonda the zebra. She flips it over in her hands and mutters, “The stitches are pulled too tight. That’s why she ran into trouble.”

“So you’ll do it? We could meet this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Rhonda blinks—the edges of her eyes shine. Finally, she nods.

“And maybe we can get coffee after? Weekends are pretty open for me these days.”

It’s Caitlin’s chuckle that breaks it. Our eyes both draw to her. She’s watching us with her twisted smile.

Rhonda’s expression turns to stone in an instant. “Unfortunately I’m all booked up. Carl visits me on weekends.”

I rest my hand on her wrist—the second time I’ve been compelled to do that to someone today. “Rhonda, you know I’d appreciate the company too.”

Rhonda’s expression softens. Her posture weakens.

“Where was Armin going before you talked to him just now?” Caitlin pipes in.

“To the eleventh-floor printer,” I mutter.

The shift in Rhonda’s expression would be imperceptible if I didn’t know her so well.

But I do.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m too busy.” Her lips purse as she turns toward her computer. “Maybe when my son slows down at work and has more than weekends for visits.”

A shaky instability thrums through me as I reluctantly step away. It’s the same feeling as when I first walked into the boardroom the day the email that I forgot to white-text for Caitlin was discovered.

I won. I should be thrilled right now. But Mr. Barcode keeps watching me with his beady eyes. I swallow an empty feeling down. It would’ve been nice to crochet a friend for him.

Irregular Business Hours

At the end of the day, I return from a bathroom break to find Gregory, Rhonda, and Garret all standing around Caitlin’s monitor. The first thing I hear is Caitlin saying, “Jolene’s job.”

My stomach plummets. This is it. They’re going to know I violated them. They will all know I lied.

I take a breath to steady myself. As soon as Caitlin spots me, her smile twists around me. “Jolene, did you not change the format for the JMS forms?”

I take a tentative step forward. “I did.”

Her gaze hardens as she clicks her mouse. “No, no. The newest one—the one I issued you on May fourth. Corporate needed us to all start using them.”

“That was the day you had the meeting with HR. I didn’t get the update the following day either.”

Gregory’s pompous nod, his side-eye—all of it churns my insides.

Caitlin’s eyes widen. Her flustered breath snatches through the air. “I sent it, I swear. Let me look at my outbox again.” She frantically taps her keys, and the same mania seems to tap inside me. “Crap.”

Caitlin looks at me with, to be frank, misguided anger. Garret’s eyes are wide and scandalized. Rhonda seems weary. Gregory pulls his belt up into his belly. “This has to go out tonight. Corporate will need them by tomorrow morning.”