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  I held up a finger. “Hang on one second. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” I opened my door just enough to stick my head out so I could ask Mary to take care of the nuisance, but she was on the phone. With a sigh, I turned back to Mr. Robichaux, whose bushy gray eyebrows had formed a stormy V at the top of his nose. “I’ll be right back.”

  The hallway was still an obstacle course of boxes, some stacked four or five high, and I wove my way around and between until I reached the door of the next office. The movers had obviously finished, but there were three people flitting around inside like worker bees. I knocked on the doorjamb, but nobody looked up from what they’re doing, probably because they couldn’t hear me over the music. There was a woman in the back corner putting things in the drawer of a desk. She was African American and looked to be in her mid-twenties from where I stood, her head bopping to the beat. The bottom half of what I could only assume was a guy stuck out facedown from underneath a table. The third person was a young man, tall and lanky with glasses and tousled dark hair in need of a trim. He was standing in front of the largest whiteboard I’ve ever seen, his hand closed around a variety of dry erase markers. None of the three noticed my presence.

  “Excuse me,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the music, and finally the girl and the whiteboard guy looked in my direction. Under-the-table guy cracked his head loudly and dropped an F-bomb. The whiteboard guy approached me, his expression neutral.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, um, I’m in the office next door.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m with a client and…” I glanced around for the source of the music, but couldn’t find one. “The walls here are pretty thin…” I waited for him to catch up, but he simply blinked at me.

  “The music, Brandon,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I told you. Turn it down.”

  I nodded and shot her a grateful look.

  “Oh. Sure. No problem. Sorry.” The whiteboard guy moved to a computer, clicked the mouse a couple times, and Beyoncé quieted right down. Then he returned to his whiteboard without so much as a second glance at me.

  “Okay,” I said, because I could think of nothing else. Under-the-table guy was back, well, under the table. The woman in the corner gave me a smile, though, so at least one person in the room might not be an android, and I nodded at her. “Thanks.”

  Mary was still on the phone when I returned, Leo snoring loudly at her feet. I rolled my eyes when she looked at me and headed back to Mr. Robichaux, who had, thankfully, not left.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said as I sat back down behind my desk. “New people are moving in next door.”

  Mr. Robichaux grunted in response, his usual reply to any sort of small talk, so I got right back to the numbers, which immediately helped me relax.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by. There were no more disturbances from next door, aside from the occasional bump against the wall or slight shake of the floor as something heavy was obviously dropped. Sounds to be expected on moving day, I supposed. I could hear voices through the wall at times. Excited conversations. Laughter. One squeal (of delight?). There were definitely more than three people there at different stages of the day, but I was too busy to go introduce myself, especially since our first meeting had consisted of me complaining about their music. I preferred to wait for a fresh day.

  Mary headed home at five thirty. Leo and I were there until almost eight. When we finally packed up our things and I shut the door behind me, the lights were still on next door, illuminating the hallway that was dimmed for the night. The music had gotten louder again over the past hour, but I really had no right to complain when it was after business hours. I gave Leo’s leash a gentle tug, and as I stepped farther into the hall, I could see the office door, its window freshly logo’d.

  Just Wright Marketing & Graphic Design

  “Interesting,” I said out loud, but that was the last thought I had, as my brain was fried from such a long day. Plus, I was starving. “Come on, Leo. Let’s go home and find some dinner.”

  Chapter Two

  Tuesday morning dawned cold and rainy—so much for impending spring. I was already not in the greatest of moods when I braked slowly to a stop and simply stared at my usual row of parking spaces. No moving truck this morning, but there were four unfamiliar cars parked one next to the other in the row that was usually pretty empty. Except for the baby blue BMW convertible. That one was parked in my spot. And enough into the next spot over to prevent me from parking there either. A glance at the license plate told me immediately who I was to direct my silent anger toward.

  JstRite

  I shook my head. There were no assigned spots, so I didn’t have any real reason to be mad. It just harkens back to my being a very structured person. I like routine. I find a parking spot I like, I park in it every day. Just like I have been for the past two years. It was my dad’s unofficial spot. Now it’s my unofficial spot.

  With a shiny BMW in it.

  “Looks like this Mr. Wright certainly knows how to make an impression,” I said to Leo. Then I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. “See what I did there, Leo? Mr. Wright? Funny, huh?” I chuckled some more at my own joke as I steered my Toyota two spaces down to a new spot, mentally challenging myself with facts and solutions. If you get here earlier, you can probably snag your spot before Mr. Wright and his fancy car arrive for the day. I snorted, which caused Leo to give me a look, because we all know I’m not coming in any earlier. Damn it.

  I unclipped Leo from his seat belt, grasped his leash and my messenger bag—which bulged with work I’d taken home—and headed inside, hurrying through the rain and drenching one foot in a puddle I’d seen too late. I wasn’t happy to find a piece of wood wedged in the door, keeping it open so I didn’t have to use the security code. Not cool. I kicked the wood out and let the door shut completely. Once in the stairwell, Leo and I both took a moment to shake ourselves free of rain and to shiver against the low forties that the day wasn’t getting out of, according to the cute meteorologist on the morning news. Then we headed up.

  As soon as I opened the stairwell door to the second floor, my senses were assaulted. First, my ears cringed. I don’t actually know if ears can cringe, but it sure felt like that’s what mine were doing at the onslaught of Taylor Swift reverberating down the hall. Then my nose wrinkled at the smell of something unfamiliar, but…kind of yummy. Eggs? Bread? Not bacon, but something close. Ham?

  The door to Chamberlain Financial was open, and I absently realized that might have to change from here on out if the music was going to be a regular occurrence. Please don’t let it be a regular occurrence. Mary sat at her desk, a slice of what looked like pizza in her hand, a smile on her face as she munched away.

  “Good morning, Lacey,” she said in her ever-pleasant tone. Then, as usual, she devolved into baby talk as I let go of Leo’s leash, and he bounded over to see her.

  “You know,” I said to my dog, “you could at least wait until I’m sitting at my own desk before you drop me like a hot potato for your mistress here.”

  Leo, of course, paid me no attention, his focus completely on whatever food Mary had.

  “What is that?” I squinted. “Pizza? In the morning?”

  “Breakfast pizza,” Mary clarified. “Scrambled eggs, cheese, and diced ham. The new neighbors brought it over.” She used the slice to gesture in the direction of the music.

  “How long has the noise been going on?”

  “Oh, that was on when I got here.”

  I inhaled slowly, then let it out. Was this how it was going to be now? I pointed at Leo, told him to stay, and headed down the hall with determined steps.

  They’d done a ton of work since I’d been there thirteen or fourteen hours ago, and it stopped me in my tracks.

  The first thing I noticed was color.

  There was color everywhere. Bright. Cheerful. Lots of oranges and greens. All the laptops had colored covers. The chairs had red, blue, and hot pin
k seat cushions. The windows were wide open. Not open, but devoid of blinds, all of which had been pulled all the way up to let the daylight in. Despite the gray and rain, this space felt jovial and inviting. To my left, they’d set up a sort of food station with a large table covered in a lime green tablecloth, a mini fridge, a red Keurig, and two stacks of brightly colored coffee mugs. The breakfast pizza box was there as well, a stack of orange paper plates next to it.

  In addition to the three people from yesterday, there were two more who seemed very busy. Another woman, a stunning redhead who was either talking on a Bluetooth or to herself and gesturing with big arm movements as she laughed at whatever she was hearing, and a handsome young man with thick, wavy dark hair any animated Disney prince would kill for. He squinted at an enormous computer monitor and never even looked in my direction. I wondered if he was Mr. Wright, and I pictured him in the BMW convertible, that mane of hair being tousled by the wind.

  I was still taking it all in when the volume of the music decreased suddenly, and I looked over to see the woman from yesterday grimacing at me from a different desk than before.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, as she crossed the room to me. “I told Brandon we have to keep it down, but he’s in his own little world sometimes.” She shot him a look as he paid us zero attention and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll do my best to keep the volume down during business hours.”

  “I’d really appreciate that,” I said.

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Gisele. Gisele Harris.”

  I put my hand in hers. Her grip was firm and she paired it with a friendly smile. “Lacey Chamberlain.”

  “Oh, that’s a great name. It’s nice to meet you, Lacey.” Her eyes moved to her right as she asked, “Are you hungry? There’s breakfast pizza left.”

  “No. Thank you. I’m good.” Gisele was nice enough, but I was still slightly aggravated that Brandon hadn’t thought there might be others in the building who didn’t want to rock out to his tunes first thing in the morning.

  “Well, come on over if you change your mind,” Gisele said.

  “I’ll do that.” I cleared my throat. “Also, I’m not sure if it’s you guys, but the door at the bottom of the stairs can’t be propped open. It’s for security purposes.”

  Gisele nodded. “I’ll tell these guys.”

  “Thank you.” I took one more look around, my eyes stopping on the redhead. She was still talking animatedly, but her large eyes were focused directly on me. Even through the black-rimmed glasses, I could almost feel her gaze. As she spoke to the person on the other end of her call, she raised an eyebrow and one side of her mouth quirked up as she continued to hold my gaze. Whether intended or not, it was very sensual. Sexy even, and I felt my face flush. Suddenly, I was roasting like a red pepper in my winter coat I hadn’t taken off yet, and the sudden urge to flee hit me like a slap. I swallowed hard, gave a lame wave to Gisele, and hurried out of there as if a swarm of wasps were chasing me.

  Back in the office, I took a deep breath and removed my coat. Leo looked up at me, chewing, and I gave Mary a look, silently telling her I knew she’d given him some of her pizza crust. She pretended not to see it.

  The phone rang as I made myself a cup of coffee. Mary gave me a heads-up with her eyes. I headed back to my office, coffee in hand, dog dissing me yet again by staying with my secretary, and my day began.

  A steady stream of phone calls, returns to file, and face-to-face appointments made my morning fly by, and the next thing I knew, it was nearly 1:00 p.m., and I was pretty sure my stomach was eating itself. I’d put nothing in it but coffee since the chicken salad sandwich I’d made at 9:00 last night.

  I hit my intercom. “Mary, I’m going to order some lunch. Want anything?”

  “Nope,” she said, and it was obvious her mouth was full. “I’m good.”

  “Oh. All right.” I dialed ChopStix, my favorite Chinese place and a number I had programmed into my contacts on my phone. Don’t judge me.

  “Hello, Miz Chamberlain. Your usual?” It always freaked me out at least a little bit when they knew who I was before I uttered a sound. Or that they knew what I ordered: chicken lo mein, steamed rice, two spring rolls.

  “Yes, please, Julie.” There was a bit of satisfaction knowing this would be either lunch and dinner or lunch for the next three days.

  “Be there in twenty.”

  The whole conversation took less than two minutes. Efficiency at its finest.

  It was a good time to relieve my poor bladder of the four cups of coffee that had been sitting there for far too long, and I headed out to Mary, who was in the middle of taking a bite out of what looked like a turkey sub from D’Amico’s Italian Deli.

  “When did you get lunch?” I asked, knowing if she’d left, she’d have stashed Leo in with me.

  “I didn’t,” she said, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she chewed. “The new neighbors brought it over when they borrowed the bathroom key.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Doesn’t that office have a bathroom?”

  “It’s not working.”

  “I see.” I glanced at Leo, sitting at Mary’s feet, watching her with laser-like focus. “Um, why does Leo have mayonnaise on his chin?”

  “I have no idea,” Mary said too quickly, not looking at me.

  I shook my head. “You’re going to lose visiting privileges, mister,” I scolded him. He ignored me, like he always did when food was nearby. I headed for the door and noticed the empty nail on the wall. “Have they not brought the bathroom key back?” I asked.

  “Oh. No, I guess not.”

  I sighed. Fine. Back to the world of color, music, and endless food.

  Imagine Dragons was playing this time when I approached the door to Just Wright Marketing & Graphic Design, but at a tolerable level. The door was open, and the people inside flitted around like worker bees accomplishing various tasks. I rapped my knuckles on the doorjamb and the guy with Disney prince hair glanced my way, a thick, dark eyebrow raised in expectation. I decided to nip that in the bud by striding across the office, hand outstretched.

  “Hi. Lacey Chamberlain. I’m in the office next door.” I jerked my chin to my left.

  Disney Prince looked momentarily confused by my introduction, but recovered quickly and shook my hand. “Patrick Cabello. Hi.”

  “You can call him Pantone,” said Gisele from her back corner of the room. “Everybody else does.”

  “As in the color chart?” I asked, recalling something vague from a college art class I took forever ago.

  Patrick—err—Pantone nodded. “Exactly.” He returned his attention to his monitor, but Gisele was coming my way, so I didn’t have to stand there like an idiot.

  “Is the music too loud?” she asked me, a slight grimace crossing her pretty features.

  “No, no, not at all,” I assured her. “I’m actually here for my bathroom key. Somebody borrowed ours?” Gisele furrowed her brow, and I explained: “Each floor in the building has a couple of bathrooms, and they’re designated to specific offices. So, you, me, and two other offices in this stretch share the one at the end of the hall.” My eyes wandered to the door of theirs, back by Gisele’s desk. “Until yours is fixed, I imagine. We all have a key to our designated restroom so random strangers from outside don’t wander in to use the facilities, you know?”

  Gisele nodded. “I get it, but I’m not sure who borrowed it. Pantone?” After a beat or two, she asked, “Did you borrow the bathroom key?” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving his monitor. “Brandon?” she called out. He was at the opposite corner of her desk. “Bathroom key?”

  Apparently, eye contact was not big at Just Wright because he didn’t look up either as he answered, “Alicia has it.”

  With a nod, Gisele said, “Hang on,” and headed back to where I’d seen the redhead on the phone earlier. She was nowhere to be found now and Gisele made a show of looking under papers and folders, in drawers. Hands planted on the des
k, she looked up at me with an expression of sympathy. “I’m going to guess she put it in her pocket and forgot she had it.”

  “Oh,” I said, because what else could I say?

  “I’m so sorry. She should be back in an hour or so…” Gisele let her voice trail off because it was obvious that she, too, wasn’t sure what else to say.

  I shrugged. “Okay, then. I’ll try back later.” I give a sort of half-smile because I wanted to remain friendly. It wasn’t Gisele’s fault the sexy redhead had left with my key. I headed down the hall to the stairwell on the other side of the wing. It took me down to Archer’s Hardware. Bill would let me use his restroom. It was the least he could do to make up for the dozen times a month Nascar Kyle nearly killed me with his ridiculous car.

  * * *

  I sat at my desk, eyeballing the remains of my Chinese food at 8:45 that night. Initially, I’d been trying to decide if I should heat it up in the microwave and work for another hour or pack it all up and go home before my brain short-circuited from overwork, leaving Mary to find my lifeless body in the morning. But now I didn’t feel great, and even the thought of more lo mein did not make my stomach happy. I blinked at the containers across the room and wondered if I didn’t feel well because I was hungry or because of what I’d eaten. Eat? Don’t eat? It was a simple decision that shouldn’t have taken more than a second or two, but I sat there, staring, squinting, decisionless.

  I swallowed, feeling that slight, scratchy irritation that marked an impending sore throat. Which, for me, meant I was probably coming down with something. No wonder I was so tired.

  A knock on the door of my office startled me out of my health analysis, making me realize that I’d left the door ajar. I always close it when I’m there after hours. Despite the keypad at the entrances to the building, it’s not hard to get in, as evidenced by the propped-open door that morning. I must not have latched it properly, and it swung open before I could even get to my feet.