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Hailey quitting.
    Knowing that was one thing; taking rude advantage of it was something else. If she didn’t write herself up for her frequent tardiness, no one would. No one would even say anything . . . not officially, and even if they would, Ann wouldn’t care. And that made her think of the notes again. “I guess . . . how can I hold everyone to standards I won’t maintain myself? It’s not fair, which I agree is a juvenile concept, but I don’t have the stomach for it. I guess I’m a terrible rebel.”
    “Terrible,” he murmured, “is not the first word I think of when your name comes up. And it comes up. A lot.”
    “Yes, I imagine so.”
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Something else, you mean?” She was pulling paperwork out of desk drawers and hunting pens. She could at least sign off on payroll today, even if nothing else got done.
    “Yeah. Uh . . . we’re close to the same age, right?”
    She blinked even as she found a hidden Snickers and wolfed it down in three unlovely bites. “Mmm gsss sssoo.” She was twenty-six. He was twenty-four.
    “It’s just, you seem older.”
    “Ffffnnnkks fffrrr nnnthnng.”
    “In a good way, in a good way! You just . . . you know how they say some people are old souls? I never met one before. You’re one of those; you have an old soul tucked behind a young face.”
    You would, too, if you spent your days shoving school buses and foiling robberies and getting stabbed trying to break up a rape and then having to eat the damned knife to have the strength to pummel the rapists.
    “Which is also interesting,” he finished.
    She swallowed the rest of the candy and held on to the wrapper. She would eat it as soon as he was gone. Also the four empty file folders she’d found. And possibly the pencil shavings out of the electric sharpener. A pity there had been no time to replenish her work stash. But her work stash might be what led to those unlovely notes.
    The whole thing made her tired. And, to be honest, a little angry. She’d stopped asking herself why me, why me, why am I the one stuck with this, woe, woe years ago, but sometimes it snuck back into her brain. “Well, thank you, I suppose. And now I have to kick you out. Work, work, work. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Prob’ly not; tomorrow’s a holiday, remember?”
    “It is?” Her heart sank. Literally: it actually felt like it swelled from adrenaline and then dropped down to her belly button. “I won’t?”
    “Greenery Day.”
    “How could I have forgotten?”
    “Can you believe it’s that time of year again?” he asked with exaggerated surprise. “Japanese nature holidays just sneak right up, don’t they? To think I’ve left my Greenery Day shopping ’til the last minute.”
    She cracked up; she couldn’t help it. Which got him started, so in seconds they were both yowling like hyenas behind her closed office door.
    “Well,” he said at last, wiping his eyes, “happy Greenery Day Eve.” Ignoring her snort, he added, “Uh, maybe you’d want to get together tomorrow for a—”
    “Of course!”
    “—movie or someth—What? Oh. Great.” He smiled again, that wonderful smile. His obvious pleasure in her acceptance almost negated her embarrassment that she’d hurried to say yes before he had a chance to finish the question.
    Which was insane. Knowing what she knew and, worse, what she didn’t know.
    I don’t know him: bad. He’s a nice boy, but exactly that: a boy. Worse. Or not. And that’s the worst of all.
    They worked out the details—lunch, tomorrow, Big Bowl in the Galleria, 11:30, maybe a movie after. Then he bid her a courteous good-bye and shut the door behind him with a firm click.
    She instantly stuffed the wrapper in her mouth, followed by several pens she kept for emergencies, the ones out of ink.
    Funny , she mused, chewing. I feel loads better, though nothing has changed. I’m still a mess. I still work here. Evil has still not been vanquished.