A silent scream built in Natalie’s chest. Missing an important deadline put the entire agreement at risk. How could this have happened?

In her gut, she knew. Mandy had been in charge of the filing. Natalie had drummed into her again and again that the hard deadline was crucial. Mandy had drummed back that she had it handled. Natalie had double-checked with her.

But she hadn’t triple-checked.

Holding in panic, she stabbed a number into the phone. This was the deal she had worked so hard to bring to fruition, competing fiercely with other suppliers for the wedding and franchise contracts.

If the deal fell through, Natalie would be faced with the decision about whether to protect Mandy from being fired. The woman made mistake after mistake, and typically, Natalie covered for her. Mandy was everyone’s favorite. Everyone’s pet. She was adorable, funny, charming, beloved.

Natalie practically strangled the phone in her hand as she contacted the state controller’s office and the district manager. It was a good thing her mother and Rick had skipped out after all. It would not be fun for them—or anyone—to see her scrambling to undo her coworker’s mistake.

* * *

A tense hour later, Natalie had rescued the situation. She was drenched in sweat and red wine and shaken to her core as she ducked into the bathroom. Somehow she had managed to save Mandy’s ass—again. It had taken a great deal of groveling and an extra $10,000 in discounts—which Natalie knew would be taken out of her bonus.

In the stall, she didn’t puke, but she had the dry heaves. She took off her blazer and blouse. Both likely ruined. She couldn’t stand to wear the blouse another second, so she shoved it into the trash. Then she buttoned the blazer over her wine-spotted bra.

She was about to exit the stall when she heard the sound of a door swishing open.

“. . . see her face when Rupert was droning on?” The voice came from someone entering the bathroom. Mandy’s voice.

Natalie froze. She stopped breathing.

“Yeah,” said someone else. Mandy’s friend Cheryl. “That’s her resting bitch face. Thank God we don’t have to look at that every day anymore.”

“Right?” Mandy chuckled. “Her so-called promotion is the best thing that ever happened to us.”

“You think?”

“That nice corner office? HR put her there so no one has to hear her constant nagging. She won’t be in our faces anymore. So really, her only interactions will be with a spreadsheet. Perfect. I thanked Rupert personally for getting her out of the pit. Sweet freedom!”

Natalie heard a snicker and the sound of a high five. Two hands clapping.

“Cheers to that and cheers to no more toxic bosses.”

One of them started humming “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead” as they both entered the other stalls.

Now Natalie really felt like puking. Instead, she made no sound as she fled from the restroom, praying they didn’t know she’d heard.

2

A shower and a change of clothes helped a little, but Natalie still felt devastated by what she’d overheard. Devastated, yet on some level unsurprised. She would never deny that she was precise. Orderly. Exacting of both herself and others.

Looking around her modest apartment, she admitted to a penchant for neatness.

But did that make her a horrible person?

Finger-combing her dark, curly hair, which was possibly the only unruly thing about her, she thought about her clean, paid-for hybrid car, her tidy home, her secure little life . . . and—the tiniest voice inside her whispered—the emptiness.

She didn’t know what might fill it up. She had created the home she’d lacked as a child—predictable, simple, neat. The apartment, while pleasant enough, was missing some essential quality she couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was in a pink stucco building as small and sweet as a cupcake, furnished with the things she liked to surround herself with—comfy chairs and shelves crammed with books, and a soft bed for curling up to read.

It should have been the right fit. It should have felt like home, like the place she belonged. Yet despite the idyllic Sonoma setting, surrounded by vineyards and apple orchards, the emptiness yawned. It never felt quite like home.

Certainly, the job wasn’t helping, despite her hard work and dedication to Pinnacle. Most days, her career felt like a grind. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown to hate the work. That, combined with the depressing thought that she and Rick were coming to an end, rolled over her in a fresh swell of nausea.

Stop it, she lectured herself. The promotion had come with a hefty raise and equity in the company. If she stayed on this path, she’d be set for life. Growing up in the bookstore with her flighty mother at the helm, that sense of security, of equilibrium, had been lacking.

Most days, she reflected, trying to power through the nausea, that was reason enough to stick with her job at Pinnacle.

She finished dressing in crop pants, a striped jersey top, and canvas sneakers. Trying to shrug off the unsettled feeling, she checked her phone. Her mom still hadn’t answered the text. Rick was still apparently flying somewhere.

There was a message from her friend Tess, though, inviting her over. The one bright spot in an otherwise completely crappy day.

She jumped into her little hybrid hatchback and drove toward Tess’s place. On the way, she stopped to grab a jar of honey from a roadside stand. Jamie Westfall, the owner, was a beekeeper who had moved to the area a few years back, alone and pregnant. She wasn’t alone anymore, though. She now had a little boy named Ollie.

As Natalie selected a pint jar with its save the bees label and stuck five dollars in the honor box, Ollie came outside. “Hiya, Miss Natalie,” he said.

“Hi, yourself. What’s up?”

Elaborate shrug. He was bashful in the most adorable way. “S’posed to be reading to my mom for homework.”

“How’s that going for you?”

Another shrug. His mother came out on the porch, a wisp of a girl in overalls and an embroidered peasant top. “He’s a good reader, but he’s super picky. He did love the last one you gave us—One Family.”

“Oh good, I’m glad you liked it. Wish that book had been around when I was your age, Ollie. Our family was just me and my mom and my grandpa, and it would have made me happy to read about all the different kinds of families. Not just families that had a mom, dad, kids, dog.” She counted them off on her fingers.

He tugged at his lower lip. “I like reading about dogs.”

“I’ll bring you a new book next time. There’s a good one called Smells Like Dog. Did I ever tell you my mom has a bookstore? I used to work there, and it gave me a superpower—picking out just the right book for just the right kid.”

“How come you don’t work there anymore?” asked Ollie.

“After the day I had, I’m asking myself that question,” Natalie admitted. “I’m heading over to visit Tess for some tea and sympathy.”

“I don’t like tea,” Ollie said. “What’s sympathy taste like?”

Natalie laughed and ruffled his hair, then got back in the car. “Like a melted marshmallow with chocolate sauce.”

“Maybe we’ll have that for dessert tonight,” Jamie said. They stood together on the porch and waved goodbye.