Page 40 of You'll Love it Here

I nod at this serious character evidence being presented.

Sami paces toward the front of the restaurant to lean against a booth next to the window, his elbow sinking into the squished red leather as he tilts the blinds back, eyeing the Northern Property Management construction site that he loves to hate most.

Jane leans in closer, one eye on Sami, and whispers, “And since you have all the keys and are checking everyone’s apartments for this electrical thing, maybe we could sneak for my undies?”

She looks completely serious. I jerk back. “Um, no. I can’t do that.”

Her eyes cast down as she nods. “Yeah, that’d be a bit dangerous, wouldn’t it?” Her voice is dismissive, like she already expected me to deny willingly breaking and entering in random neighbor’s houses. “This is the kind of thing you need a search warrant for. I’ll contact the police.”

Shit. I should’ve expected this. Of course, if she files a report, there’s a chance Irene will be contacted. And if she gets wind of a tenant dispute, then, of course, Lana’s not going to be thrilled.

“Wait, don’t do that.” I grab her arm before quickly retreating. She looks at me expectantly. I rack my brain for the plot of literallyanypodcast I’ve heard echoing through my walls. “If you contact the police, they probably can’t do much at this stage. You have no proof of a crime, and no real suspects.”

“You’re totally right.” Her eyes brighten at this. “It’s so frustrating how easily women’s instincts get dismissed.”

I smile politely and continue. “My bet would be the police might open a file, if you’re lucky. But if we had proof, something concrete, then at least we could do something with it.”

“What kind of proof are you thinking?”

I’m definitely getting in too deep, but judging by the way Jane’s eyes are lighting up, I clearly have no choice but to commit. “We’ll investigate ourselves,” I whisper. Excitement radiates off her like static, and it boosts me enough to add, “Operation Dirty Pant—”

“Hey, I almost forgot!” We both startle and turn. Sami is suddenly behind us, holding out a clipboard. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up, but I told myself I’d gather signatures for this petition if either of you are so inclined.” He holds out the paper for us. “It’s something me and some other local small businesses have organized.”

“Oh, sure!” Jane takes it, and without reading it, she grabs the pen strung to the board and signs. When she’s finished, she nods to the front door and says, “I was going to ask what that new sign was about, anyway.” I follow her gaze, and sure enough, a purple sign taped to the interior of the front door has appeared,CALM THE CONSTRUCTION!in big bold letters on top.

Sami nods. “I put it up this morning. A few more will be sprinkled down our street, I think.” His jaw ticks for a flash before he smiles. “Anyway, thanks for indulging me during your mixer.”

Except, we’re an hour in, and it truly looks like it’s going to be just Jane and me here. I don’t know what Sami pictured for a mixer, but this has certainly bottomed out my low expectations.

Jane hands the petition to me and says, “Power to the people!” She flicks her wrist to check her loose chain watch. “Shit, I gotta get back and feed Hank or he’ll pee on my work shoes, the vengeful creature.” She stands and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Mona, let’s discuss the details on Slack.” She chugs the rest of her wine in one gulp, clinking the empty glass as she places it on the counter, andgrabs another sandwich off the platter, wraps it in one of the diner napkins, and drops it into the depths of her giant tote bag, never to be the same again. “Thanks, Sami!”

The bell on the door jingles as it closes behind her, theCALM THE CONSTRUCTION!sign waving with the door, and then it’s just Sami and me again. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen this place with more than two customers at a time.

I read the petition. The gist is that they want the city to slow down on issuing new building permits so that infrastructure like water mains and the like aren’t strained by the sudden growth. Makes sense. But I know the real reason is so the businesses and old apartments aren’t further devastated by all the new construction—by the nuisance of the constant noise, the road blockages, and the eyesores of the perpetually empty lots, and everything that comes after.

As I look at this vacant diner, at this nice guy who literally threw a “party” to try to help me out, it’s a no-brainer. I sign and hand it back to Sami and hope it helps.

Undercovers

“Hey, Olivia!” I say, making my voice as singsong as possible as I answer my phone.

I was on my way out the door to pick up Jane for our “investigation” when I saw Olivia’s name on my screen. Honestly, I was tempted to bury my phone under a cushion until the ringing stopped. These past few weeks the group chat has continued its silent streak, and it’s getting harder to pretend I’m not bothered.

But I didn’t want it to be weird when I returned to the office. Plus, I genuinely miss her. At work, she’d always been my realest fan—cheering me on and saying how much she wished she could achieve what I had. She was right on track. I’d always joke to her that she reminded me of a younger version of me (circa 2022), and that one day she’d be my boss. It was nice to be admired and to share the hard-won advice I’d gathered along the way. Right now, I could really use that ego boost. So I took a seat on the wicker bench by my door and swiped to answer.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.” It’s Tuesday, which means it’s been exactly three weeks of only texting.

“Yours too!” I smile even though she can’t see me. I can even feel my back straightening, like muscle memory, now that work has entered my apartment.

“So, how’s your mom?” She’s doing that low voice, high voice thing—like she’s faking interest. Fair enough.

Alice gives me a knowing look that I choose to ignore. Mythroat is already tightening with frustration over my troubles. “Things are going really well here.”

“Amazing. So you think you’ll come back soon?” Again, Olivia’s tone is that business chipper. Maybe it always was and I just didn’t notice when I was also in it. Man, how has it already been three weeks? I’ve already hit the halfway mark of my leave. In some ways, it feels like no time at all has passed—my meager accomplishments around this building are depressing. On the other hand, the office already feels like a lifetime ago. At least I managed to get all the rest of the electrical inspections done today. (Apart from Carmen’s place because he was too “busy with a big project.”) Jamie has miraculously agreed to come back when he’s in the area on Friday, which is cutting it to the exact day of Lana’s June 11th deadline. So if Carmen doesn’t let us in through his own volition, then I STG.

“I don’t know,” I start. “There’s still a lot going on here.” Technically, this is also true. I look down on my “stakeout” outfit. Black leggings, black hoodie, beat-up sneakers that I plan to use for their intended purpose.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Olivia’s voice has lost none of its pep. “I miss my work bestie.”