“Like a tie on the door at the dorms. Are you on the way to the airport?”

“Nope, already in the air.”

“Makes me wonder how many hours a year you’re up there.”

“Probably about as many as you’re in your car. Hold on.” She heard him talking to the copilot.

“What’s he saying?” Dakota whispered.

“What are we? In high school?” Mary giggled.

Dakota nodded with enthusiasm.

“You there?” Glen asked.

“Aren’t there laws about talking on cell phones while flying?”

“No. We don’t get pulled over for speeding either.”

“Keeps your insurance rates down then.”

Glen was laughing again. “So, next weekend?”

“This weekend isn’t even over yet.”

“Let me rephrase. Next Saturday . . .”

“That would be the day after Friday,” she teased.

Dakota slapped the edge of the table and held in a laugh.

“You like pulling my chain, woman.”

“I haven’t pulled your chain yet.” The words fell out of her mouth so fast she couldn’t close it quick enough.

Dakota roared with laughter and Glen’s silence on the line made her cringe.

“Who are you and what did you do with that innocent woman I took to dinner last night?” he asked.

“I told you my mouth got me in trouble.”

“I’ll remember that. We’ll circle back to that chain a little later. Saturday at eleven in the morning.”

She waited for more.

Silence.

“Are you asking?”

“Hell no. Why ruin what’s working?”

True.

“What should I wear?”

“Casual. We’ll be outside and it will be in the eighties. And bring a swimsuit . . . just in case.”

“A swimsuit?”

Dakota’s eyes lit up.

“Unless you like jumping in the water fully clothed.”

“Not particularly.”

“Glad we have that settled then. I’ll text you later about that chain pulling.”

“Good-bye, Glen.”

He disconnected the call and Dakota and Mary squealed.

The plumber didn’t show up Monday as scheduled. They’d broken the blade to the concrete saw they needed to use to open up the floor and a new one wouldn’t come in until Wednesday, the day the job was supposed to be completed.

Monday was an evening work schedule for her. Not all of her clients were available to talk in the middle of the workweek.

Her routine for the past three years was to do her laundry on Mondays along with her grocery shopping. Wednesday afternoons were set aside for cleaning, which would have worked out perfectly if the plumbers were done, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Instead of grocery shopping, she found herself at the mall searching out a new swimsuit. This was normally a job for her BFF to join her on, but alas . . . Dakota was a tad busy with baby Leo’s first pediatrician appointment.

Thank God for cell phones.

With a dozen different bathing suits in hand, Mary stepped into the dressing room that had the worst invention known to man, fluorescent lights. She faced the three-way mirror and cringed. The first suit she tried on was a white one-piece with tiny black polka dots. She snapped a picture and sent it to Dakota, who was waiting to help her out.

Please tell me you have bikinis to try on.

This one is cute. She didn’t have enough of a tan for white.

Mary slid out of the suit and into another one-piece.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced down, expecting to see Dakota chiding her, and instead found Glen.

Hey, Counselor.

Hey yourself. This is a new way to communicate.

The blue suit was strapless. She snapped a picture and sent it to Dakota.

Her phone buzzed twice.

I’m in a meeting and bored out of my head.

Mary leaned against the dressing room wall. Aren’t you the boss? Can’t you just leave?

She switched conversations. That one doesn’t show your cleavage. BIKINI! Dakota shouted.

Another suit went to the no pile.

I called the meeting. Hence, I can’t leave.

Mary went for the red bikini, stopped between the top and the bottoms to reply to Glen. Poor baby.

Well? Dakota had the patience of a teenager with the car keys.

Give me a second.

The bikini was right up Dakota’s street. Skimpy with tons of cleavage. Mary snapped a picture.

Are you teasing me? Glen asked.

Yes I am! She enjoyed the banter. Even via texting.

Mary sent the picture with the question. Don’t you think my ass needs more coverage? Dakota would be straight up if it was too small. She took it off and put on the black two-piece that she felt would be a better fit.

Her phone buzzed.

Well? Did your phone die? Dakota’s question caught her off guard.

Didn’t you get the . . . oh shit!

Mary’s heart kicked in her chest when she switched back to Glen’s screen. Sure enough, there she was, red bikini with a question about her ass.

Her phone rang, and she nearly dropped it.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

It was Glen.

Her hands shook. “That picture wasn’t meant for you.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“It wasn’t. I swear.” She sat on the dressing room bench holding her head with one hand, her phone in the other.

“My employees think I’ve lost it.”