Chapter Text
“What are you doing here?” Didi stood behind her desk looking every bit the caryatid that Julie knew her to be. All of Pacific View depended on her and it showed in posture of her shoulders, the taut set of her jaw. Beneath the cultivated stillness on the surface though, Julie could see the muscle of her cheek quietly popping. The woman looked like she would either crumble or detonate, ruining them both, and if Julie didn’t start talking now, she’d lose her nerve.
“I came to apologize.”
Didi’s eyes narrowed into dark half-moons. “I thought I was supposed to thank you?”
The breath crouching at the bottom of Julie’s lungs sprang out. Didi wasn’t going to make this easy on her. Fair enough. Julie had done this to herself, after all. She pulled her blazer tighter, trying to protect what little pride managed to survive her cover being blown. “I’m not apologizing for solving the case. I’m still glad we found Helen’s necklace. I want to apologize for hurting you.”
“You didn’t.”
Julie recognized this knee-jerk denial and had to bite her bottom lip to stifle a scoff, but her eyes softened. “I did, or you wouldn’t have tried to resign.” In a gesture that looked like a prayer, Julie put her hands together. “And I’m truly sorry.”
Didi’s gaze turned assessing, and Julie’s resulting shiver under it was involuntary.
“I need you to know I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“What, I was just collateral damage then?”
Wrinkles coiled around Julie’s nose. “Yeah, I hear it, it’s not better.” Why hadn’t she written out what she wanted to say? She ran a hand through her hair and then clasped her hands together again. “But that’s why I’m here. I want to make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me?” Didi’s eyebrows huddled in her hairline. “How?”
“I’ve taken next week off.”
“You’ve taken next week off?” Didi repeated, her voice slowed by uncertainty.
Julie nodded. “I’d like to volunteer here, at Pacific View.”
“Doing what? Investigations?”
“Sure,” Julie snorted, “if you have anything that needs investigating. But no, doing anything you need done. Whatever you want.”
It was Didi’s turn to scoff. “Whatever I want?”
“I meant what I said at Philz—the work you do here is admirable.”
“Whatever I want?” Didi asked again, her mouth twisting into an unreadable expression that put Julie on edge.
“I’m available for the week,” Julie confirmed, hoping she wouldn’t regret this and wondering if she was already starting to. “What do you want me to do?”
The lobby was quiet when Julie returned to Pacific View that Monday morning. The faint light of the sun catching the horizon made her feel like she should be at the agency, savoring the first file of the day. She bit her cheek and tried to swallow the thought of cases piling up. She could be away from work for a week. The agency was in good hands with Megan in the meantime. And I’ll still be working, she assured herself.
“You’re here,” Didi observed as she emerged from her office.
“Surprised?”
“I feel like nothing you do should surprise me anymore, but, yeah, I have to admit I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”
“Well,” Julie drawled, raising her arms, “here I am.”
“Yes, here you are.” Didi paused to look at her, really looked at her, and for a moment Julie worried if maybe Didi had formulated a plan of her own. “Let’s get you oriented then.” Didi turned on her heel and swept down the hall. Julie frowned, skipping a few steps to keep up. Didi had been much more cordial when they’d toured the place with Charles. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed Didi’s sweater sleeve, slowing her.
“Do you always run everywhere?”
Didi laughed, pausing and leaning against the wall. “Complaining already? You haven’t even been here five minutes.”
“I’m wondering, not complaining.” When Didi’s eyes flicked down to the material bunched up in Julie’s hands, Julie let go. “Sorry, I…”
“Come on, Froggy. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Julie rolled her eyes but took off after Didi, not wanting to be seen as incapable or worse, a burden. Maybe volunteering was a mistake. There were other ways…Julie about slammed into Didi’s back after turning the corner.
“This is the breakroom,” Didi explained as she pushed open the door with her shoulder. “Why don’t you go ahead and change and then I’ll hand you off to Jaylen.”
Julie paused in the doorway, and Didi seemed to anticipate her question.
“There’s a polo with our logo in the closet. I’ll wait outside.”
Julie recognized the shirt when she pulled it off the hanger. The color could be worse. Could be better, but definitely could be worse. There were scrubs in the closet too, and she hoped she wouldn’t need those this week. After she tugged the shirt over her head, Julie examined herself in the mirror. This look reminded her too much of the uniformed jobs she’d had all through high school and college, where older men tried to either bully her or hit on her. Julie shuddered. She missed her blazer.
“Cute,” Didi said in greeting when Julie stepped out into the hallway.
Julie felt herself flush and adjusted the collar around her warming neck. Maybe this polo wasn’t so bad after all. She wasn’t about to admit that though. “I prefer my blazers.”
“Yes, they suit you, too,” Didi conceded. “But by the end of the day, I think you’ll be glad for something less… stiff.” Didi eyed Julie’s heels before adding, “I wish you’d brought more sensible shoes.”
Julie looked down at her own heels and then over at Didi’s Adidas.
“I’m sure you’ll remember if you make it back tomorrow.”
“If?” Julie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Of course she’d be back tomorrow. Now though, she was even more committed to returning regardless of how the day went. Let it go well. Please, she prayed to whatever deity watched over Pacific View, hoping it wasn’t Didi herself.
Managing the coffee bar was her first task. Julie loved the earthy smell of a hot roast. On a usual Monday morning, she’d be at her desk right now, steam rippling off the top of her “I want coffee, not your opinion” mug—her favorite. She’d solved so many cases sipping from that cup.
Her eyes darted to the ceramic mugs in front of her now. Generic. Geriatric. It had been years, maybe not enough of them, but still, years since she’d had to pour coffee for other people. But boring was okay. She could handle dull. She was good at dull.
“I can stay,” Jaylen offered.
Julie shook her head. He had other things to do, and she could tell he was eager to get to them and Tabitha. “I’ve got this.” When Jaylen lingered for a moment, Julie added, “Seriously, I worked in service when I was younger. Thanks for getting me set up.”
“Alright.” He nodded and then, with more conviction, continued, “Great. I’ll come check on you when it’s time to clean up.”
“Froggy!”
Julie fought the urge to wince. She pushed her shoulders down and forced a smile before turning away from Jaylen’s retreating form to the figure who’d materialized at her right. “Ginny, it’s good to see you again.”
“We missed you after Charles left.”
“Really?” The question escaped Julie’s lips before she could suppress it. She wanted to smack herself. Too vulnerable. Too open. Too real.
“Of course, dear.” Virginia reached out to Julie’s chin, pinching it between her forefinger and thumb. “You and Charles kept things exciting. And young! Look at your skin. You’re positively glowing with youthful radiance.”
The warm look in Virginia’s eyes felt genuine, and that made it all the more difficult for Julie to hold, so she cleared her throat. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes, two actually.” She nodded her head to where her husband had taken a seat.
“Ah, I guess Elliot hasn’t forgiven me yet.”
Virginia guffawed. “Elliot doesn’t forgive. Something else comes along and makes him madder. Give it another week or two and he’ll have moved on.”
Ginny’s laughter was infectious and Julie could help but join in. “Would you like cream or sugar?”
“I’ll help myself.” Virginia took both cups and went to walk away but stopped mid-turn. “I hope we’ll see you around more, Froggy.”
“I’ll be here all week.”
“And after? I hope then too.” Virginia smiled knowingly, and Julie watched her back with curiosity. The people at Pacific View continued to surprise her at every turn. She shouldn’t like this. It was her business not to be surprised. To be able to read people and anticipate what they’d do or say or think before they even knew themselves. Still, Julie found herself smiling despite herself.
“Kovalenko.”
This time she couldn’t suppress the reflexive wince. “Susan.”
“President Susan. I’m surprised you’d dare to show your face here again.”
“Yes, well, I wanted—”
Susan cut her off. “I’m even more surprised Didi allowed you back. She’s too soft. I’m going to have a word with her.”
Hoping to de-escalate Susan’s ire by redirecting her attention, Julie gestured to the carafe on the table. “How about some coffee?” She offered.
“Not by your commie hands!”
“Excuse me?”
Before Julie could register what was happening, she had a face full of orange juice. Citrus stung her eyes, sticky liquid slipped down her shirt, and pulp coagulated in her hair. She reached up and scraped some of the stringy fibers from her scalp. “You couldn’t drink pulp-free?” Julie asked even though Susan was already out of earshot.
Things were not going well. She glared upwards.
Didi was right—it was going to be a long day.
“Oh, my, God.” Didi’s shock quickly became barely contained laughter. “What happened to you?”
“Susan,” she sighed as she collapsed into the welcoming seat in front of Didi’s desk. Yes, Julie missed her blazer.
“Ah, our resident patriot.” Didi pushed back in her chair and grabbed a packet of face wipes out of a drawer. She reached across her desk to hand them over. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Julie admitted, pulling a liberal number of wipes and scrubbing her face with them.
“I’ll have a word with her.”
“Great, she’s hoping to have a word with you anyway.” When Didi raised her eyebrows, Julie elaborated. “She’s not as thrilled as you are to have me back at Pacific View.” Julie meant this as a joke, but when she met Didi’s eyes, she saw a kind of surprise she hadn’t been expecting. Embarrassment. Like she’d been caught. “Can I have another polo?” Julie asked as she moved from scouring her hairline to wiping at her collarbone under her shirt. When Didi didn’t respond immediately, Julie paused her washing. “Didi?”
Didi chewed on her lip, seemingly lost in thought.
“Didi! This shirt is sticking to my skin. If you won’t lend me another, I’m changing back into what I brought.”
“Right. Okay. I’ll grab it for you. Wait here.”
Julie rolled her eyes. Where did Didi think she would go looking like this?
“Here.”
Julie caught the shirt lobbed at her. “That was fast.” She did not like the indecipherable expression contorting Didi’s face. Was it frustration? Worry? “Can you…uh… turn around?”
“Sorry.” Didi did an about-face and stared at her shoes.
“Didi?”
“You okay?”
“What is this?”
Didi turned around before she could stop herself and her mouth puckered. She croaked out a sound somewhere between laugh and apology. “It’s the only other polo I have on hand.”
“It’s huge.”
Didi nodded in agreement. “I think it’s a triple XL.”
“Man, my pants feel unnecessary with this.”
“I wouldn’t complain if you lost them.” Julie was suddenly grateful for the giant shirt hiding her skin because she knew the blush on her cheeks was racing down her neck and burning up her entire chest. “But my residents probably would. They don’t like when they can see the tattoos on my forearms.”
“How many tattoos do you have?” The question slipped out before Julie could regain her composure.
Didi tilted her head in consideration, but before she could say anything more, Jaylen knocked on the door. She raised a finger to tell Jaylen she’d be with him in a moment and then turned her attention back to Julie. “A question for another day. Let’s set you up working in the back, away from the residents.”
“No pants necessary then?” Julie enjoyed watching Didi’s cheeks redden like her own. “Kidding.”
“She has a sense of humor after all,” Didi declared.
Even though she was being teased, Julie smiled and it didn’t take any effort at all.
At least it smells good. Really good actually—laundry was second only to coffee when it came to soothing aromas. And she could work without her shoes on, Julie thought, trying to cheer herself up, cheer herself on. She didn’t hate it in here, even she hated what she had to do. And even that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t loathe every part of doing laundry. Throwing clothes in the washer and moving them to the dryer, she was skilled at those steps.
“Do you remember the first day we met?” Julie had asked when Didi led them into this room.
“Of course.” Didi’s reply came quicker and more affirmatively than Julie expected.
She wanted to linger here, in this moment, to explore the honesty in Didi’s voice that could promise something more, but she forced herself to press on. “Do you remember when I asked if I could move in?”
“Vividly.” Didi took a step closer to her.
“You remember why that interested me?” Despite her instinct to stand her ground, Julie moved backward to maintain the space between them. She felt her hips hit the dryer.
“You liked the idea of never having to do laundry again.” Didi’s eyes sparkled and Julie wondered if Didi was reading her mind. There was something even more appealing here.
“Is this revenge?”
“For?”
For a second, it appeared Didi would take another step forward, but she didn’t, and Julie found herself disappointed. “For lying to you.”
“You lied about disliking laundry?”
Even though Didi was obviously joking, Julie wasn’t going to let herself off the hook. “About being Emily. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Didi exhaled, returning to seriousness. “Froggy, this isn’t vengeance. You can wash the polo that fits you while you’re in here. I figured you’d be more comfortable in it…” Didi paused, winked. “…and pants.”
She was. Julie loved freshly laundered clothes—their warmth, their softness, their fragrance from the detergent. When she did laundry at home, she liked to pile the dried clothes on the bed and then faceplant on top of them. She may have fallen asleep like this once or twice. She was willing to admit she had been a cat in a past life.
There would be no nap today, she sighed. Just an endless number of towels.
As she folded, Julie couldn’t keep her mind from wandering and she found it slinking down the hall and pouncing on Didi. Did Didi like doing laundry? Did anyone? Did she send it out to be dry cleaned, leave it in the dryer, or pout the entire time she folded it like Julie did? Didi wore so many sweaters. Did she hang them in a closet or store them a dresser? Were they machine washable? What detergent did Didi use? What perfume did she wear?
And that brought Julie out of it. She was hungry, she reasoned. It was nearing lunch time, and she’d been unable to get down a full breakfast this morning. When she forgot to eat, she also forgot how to think clearly. If she’d been in the office, Megan would remind her to take a break or even slyly sneak a snack onto her desk. She missed her assistant, her routine, and something else that the churning of her stomach was trying to keep out of her mind’s reach—something she wasn’t sure she could remember, even if she dared name it.
Julie had packed a lunch. Or rather, Megan had packed a lunch for Julie. If anyone had asked, Julie would have shared that it was Megan’s idea—she offered. In fact, she insisted.
“I don’t trust you not to bring a diet Dr. Pepper and call it lunch.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “And yet somehow I’ve survived into my thirties.”
Megan looked on the verge of disputing this, but Julie watched her rearrange her face into a look of contentment. “I also like meal planning, so you’d be doing me a favor.”
“Fine,” she’d relented.
Megan’s organization bordered on obsessive. The one time Julie had been in her apartment, she’d been impressed and then disturbed by the number of organizers. The drawers, the cabinets, the pantry—everything in these places was in another thing first. Even the counterspace was dominated by things holding other things. The system was both disturbing and awe-inspiring. Julie couldn’t stand clutter, but she solved this through minimalism. Megan had proven there were other options.
As Julie sifted through her lunch bag, she couldn’t help but appreciate Megan’s attention to detail. This was one of the many qualities that made her an excellent assistant. She’d prepared a balanced meal that Julie would actually eat because, despite Julie’s claims that she wasn’t a picky eater, after 8 years of working together, Megan knew this was a lie. She also knew Julie’s tastes.
Julie was making a mental note to thank her with something special when a soft shadow fell across the table.
“For you.” Didi took the seat next to her while setting a wax paper envelope down and sliding it over.
“A cookie? What for?”
“I’m sorry you got a glass of juice to the face.” Didi reached out, and for a second Julie thought she was going to touch her cheek, but Didi dropped her hand on the table instead.
Julie recognized the feeling in the pit of her stomach as disappointment. Eat, she urged herself. Eat something. Anything. She bit into the cookie. It was good. Damn it. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m still sorry it happened. No good deed, yeah? I spoke to Susan by the way. She knows another stunt like that and she’s gone.”
“Thanks,” Julie said. “And thank you for this.” She raised the cookie and then quickly lowered it, slamming her eyes closed when an unbidden image invaded her mind: Didi reaching out, putting her hand over Julie’s on the cookie and bringing it to her own lips for a bite. Through still-shut eyes, she said, “It’s really good.”
“Best cookie in the city.”
Despite not having much to compare it to, Julie found herself persuaded and eager to distract herself. “Where’d you get it?”
“My secret.”
“You’re cagey today. First with the tattoos and now this cookie. Afraid I’m investigating you?”
Didi laughed outright. “No! Should I be?”
“No.” Julie laughed too. “But why so secretive? Is this from some sort of sugar-smuggling ring? I’m sure I could figure it out—”
“It’s Around the Corner.”
Julie’s brows furrowed, her mind working through the nearby intersections. “Which corner?”
“No, no, it’s The Bakery Around the Corner.” When Julie continued to stare at her blankly, Didi tried again. “The name of the bakery is The Bakery Around the Corner.”
A smile cracked open Julie’s face. “Like the movie!”
“You’ve Got Mail? That’s an old movie.” When Julie’s eyebrows knit together once more, Didi paused and then quickly added, “An oldie, but a goodie.”
“No, The Shop Around the Corner. With Jimmy Stewart.”
Didi’s mouth hung open. “Jeez, that movie’s ancient. How old are you?”
“My mom made my sister and me watch it when we were little.” It was clear from Didi’s befuddled expression that this didn’t explain everything the way Julie thought it did. “I grew up with a lot of old movies, and I haven’t watched TV in 20 years.”
With this, Didi’s confusion dissipated, but something looking an awful lot like pity replaced it. For all of her adult life, Julie had followed one rule as loyally as if it were a religious tenet: do not disclose personal history. She’d just stumbled right over this self-drawn line and only realized it now that she was face-down in the sand on the other side. She regretted opening her mouth, letting anything out of it before putting something of substance in it, and holding that devastating cookie up to it. In desperation, she started rummaging through her lunch. Certainly Megan had packed something that would save her from this.
“You know you really don’t have to stay. You’ve done enough to prove you’re sorry.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to make it up to you.”
“Consider it water under the bridge, Julie.”
“I’m staying.”
After Didi left the room, Julie sat a little longer just staring at the ceiling. She knew she was stubborn. For better or worse, self-awareness was something she did not lack. She knew could be exceedingly stubborn. Excessively, if Megan had anything to say about it. Didi giving her permission to cut out early only made her more determined to see this day, this whole week through. But she was starting to suspect that doing so would mean waging an even bigger internal battle. Fighting with herself guaranteed part of her would lose.
Beatrice was stronger than she looked. When she handed Julie a bag of craft supplies, it about pulled her to the ground.
“Careful! It’s full of ceramic pots.”
Julie leveled Beatrice with an unamused stare. “Good to know.”
“Here, I’ve got you.” Before she could insist that she was fine, a pair of hands had lifted the bag.
“Calbert!” Julie rightened herself.
“Froggy, I heard you were here today.” He walked the bag to the craft table and began pulling out the pots.
Julie joined him, placing one at each table setting. “Thank you.” She nodded at the bag. “And thank you for forgiving Charles.” She paused her arranging when Calbert did and looked him in the eyes. “You mean a lot to him.”
“You do too.” Calbert patted her shoulder. “And you’re welcome to come around and visit. Just keep an eye out for Susan.”
Julie choked out a laugh and shook her head. Word did travel fast in this place. “You heard about this morning, huh?”
“No, but I guess I’m about to! I was out with my son and just got back. So, tell me, what’d I miss?”
They settled into easy conversation, and Julie found herself enjoying chaperoning the afternoon activity. She could see why Didi stayed here years. Why she’d turn down a promotion. Why she’d let this job become her life.
The past two hours helping residents paint pots, even getting to design one of her own, and then planting new life in them had eclipsed the events of the morning. Julie felt like she was making meaningful connections. Maybe even making friends. Old people friends, yes, but these were her people. She’d had to grow up before most and, when she was a child, adults always told her she was an old soul. Whether she had been one or not back then, she’d become one by now. If she wasn’t at the office working on a Friday night, she was at home. And usually in bed early.
“It’s quitting time!” Jaylen announced after poking his head around the corner of the sunroom. Julie was glad to hear the day was nearing its end—her feet were throbbing, even after spending a good portion of the session sitting.
Beatrice waved at him energetically. “Oh, hey, Jaylen! You’ve got to join us next time.” After he gave her a thumbs up, Bea turned to address the class. “Alright, everyone, let’s put our pots over here to finish drying. You can pick them up tomorrow, and if you didn’t finish, don’t worry, we can keep working on these tomorrow and the next day too if you need!”
Julie smiled over at Calbert whose fingers were stained with soil and whose cheek had a smudge of yellow paint. She imagined she looked similar. “This has been fun.”
“It has,” he agreed. “I can’t wait to give this to CJ to put in his office. Payback for all the glitter-covered, construction paper garbage I had to display proudly on our fridge.”
Julie laughed, thinking about her own mother hanging the “art” young Julie made at school. “Hopefully he puts on a grateful face,” she teased.
“What are you going to do with yours?”
“I’m not sure yet.” It was a half-lie. Julie had known exactly what she wanted to do with hers the moment she picked up a paintbrush. She just wasn’t sure if she could actually bring herself to do it. Julie had been told she was brave her entire life, and in many ways, she was. When it came to solving cases or taking care of her friends, she had no fear. But, when it came to her own life, she had nothing but fear.
Julie knocked on Didi’s office door, watching the hanging blinds shake with the reverberations. She only had to resist the temptation to look through the gaps for a second.
“Come in!”
Julie cracked the door open and peeked around it.
“Oh, Julie, you don’t have to knock.”
Julie scrunched her nose. “Your door was closed.”
“Consider it open for you.” Before Julie could press her on this, Didi looked back down at the mess of papers on her desk and asked, “What’cha need?”
“Everyone is packing up.”
Didi nodded without looking up. “Yeah, I’ve got some paperwork to wrap up, and then I’ll be heading home too.” She paused and glanced up briefly. “You’re good to go, if that’s why you’re here.”
“It’s not. I’ll wait.”
The sigh that floated up out of Didi’s chest sounded too much like a groan. “Julie, for real. You’ve put in your hours. You’ve proven yourself capable, more than capable. You’ve done a good job today. Go home. Come back tomorrow—if you want.”
“I’ll leave when you do.” Julie shrugged and walked over to Didi’s desk.
“Is it ever worth arguing with you?”
Julie smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think so, but you can keep trying. I like it.” When Didi looked up with a wicked grin spread across her face, Julie quickly clarified, “I like winning.” This did nothing to weaken Didi’s smirk.
“You sure do,” she agreed. “If you’re going to stay, you might as well be useful. Can you file these papers”—Didi held up a thick stack of multicolored papers—“in those folders?” She gestured toward a shelf of equally colorful binders.
“Gladly.” Julie sandwiched the pile between her hands and settled herself on the floor in front of the shelves, kicking her heels off next to her.
“The organization should be pretty self-explanatory.”
“Figured.”
They worked in silence for twenty minutes, Didi signing forms and Julie putting papers away in their corresponding file. It was comfortable, Julie thought. Easy, too. To work together like this. She could imagine sitting here, her computer resting on her lap, combing through cases while Didi took care of Pacific View and its residents.
“You about done?” This startled Julie out of her momentary fantasy.
“Yeah, pretty much. You?” She looked over her shoulder at Didi, who appeared to have been finished for a minute.
The corners of Didi’s mouth turned down in curbed humor as she nodded. “Yep. Let’s get out of here. It’s been a day.” Didi stood and gathered her jacket and purse from the coat rack. With her back to Julie, she asked, “Want a ride?”
The casualness was convincing, but Julie suspected it was practiced, and this made her all the more eager to say yes.
“Where did you learn to drive?” Julie asked, clinging to the door handle like a possum hanging from a tree branch.
“Rude,” Didi declared, but she laughed and slowed down. “I’ve been told I have a lead foot.”
“No kidding.” Julie let go of the grab handle and relaxed into her seat. “How many speeding tickets do you have?”
“None.” When Julie shot her a disbelieving glare, Didi whispered, “This year.”
“Ah.”
“I’m working on it. Really,” she emphasized. “I don’t want to be in such a rush all the time. It helps when I have someone reminding me.”
“I get it. Hustle culture and all. Like I said, I’m a fellow workaholic.”
“Yeah, but being a workaholic feels different. I can’t speak for your reasons, but it’s not the system that forces me to spend so much extra time at Pacific View. I’m not earning overtime or trying to work my way up the ladder. I want to be there. I also want to slow down.”
Julie nodded, regarding Didi with a respect she wished she had originally given her all those weeks ago when they’d first met. “You care.”
Didi smiled. “I do,” she agreed.
“They’re lucky.” Something overwhelming forced Julie to turn away and look out the window, to escape. It was good timing because a minute later, they were on her street. “Oh, that’s me. The brick building just there.” As Didi slowed the car to a stop, Julie gathered her bag and blazer up in her arms. “Thank you for the ride,” she said, opening her door.
“Any time.” Before Julie could close the car door, Didi rushed to add, “Hey, Julie…”
“Yeah?”
“Will you text me when you’re safe inside?”
A lopsided smile overtook Julie’s face. “Sure. Of course. And Didi, drive safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She met Didi’s warm eyes and then softly shut the door.