Page 20 of Salty Pickle

“I’m just saying, I think she could make you seem softer. More people oriented.”

“No. Hell no. Send her to Warwick.”

He stares down at the printouts. “Yes, sir.”

God, I hate it when he reverts to formal talk, like I’m his military commander.

I turn around to return to my office, then decide, no, I don’t want in there, either.

The conference room. I’ll hole up in there with a phone and my laptop.

Except my laptop is in my office.

“Need something else?” Devin’s voice is dark. He’s annoyed with me. It’s not unusual. Most people are.

“Would you please retrieve my laptop?”

“No.”

I whirl around. “Why not?”

“I haven’t completed your last task. I’m printing pretty pictures to convince that perfectly nice woman to get out of your hair. And I don’t like it. Plus, you owe me an hour off.”

As if I’m following Lucy’s cockamamie idea. “Never mind,” I tell him.

I’ll work from my phone. My files are all on a cloud drive.

I only take three steps when a heavy thud rattles my office door.

What now?

Devin and I look at each other.

Then there’s another one.

Is it Lucy? Is she having pains again and can’t open the door?

I yank on the handle and throw the door wide.

A white fuzzy head rams my knees, knocking me backwards. I fall on my ass, my head barely missing Devin’s desk.

The goat takes off down the hall.

I scramble to my feet to follow it, then a wild flash of color crashes into me.

Good God. It’s Lucy, and I’ve tripped her. I cradle her to stop her fall.

We make a slow-motion descent to the shiny floor. I carefully hold her up so that my shoulder takes the brunt of the landing.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Are you?” Her eyes are wild.

“The goat is gone,” Devin says.

Both Lucy and I look up from our position on the floor. We can hear the surprised cries down the hall.

“Matilda!” Lucy fights to disentangle herself from me and push to standing. But she no more gets to her knees when she grabs her belly. “Oh, these stupid pains!”

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