Dragged myself into the shop at around eight this morning. Anthony was already there, reading the paper in his office. Coffee was already done.
“So, Stephen says to tell you he’ll have your supplements for next week ready by this afternoon. Don’t be surprised if he brings them here,” he said. He folded back the page he was reading and set it to the side. “You finish up the last of what you had this morning? He’ll want to take the bottles with him.”
I nodded. It never occurred to me to confess to my one skipped day. I’d emptied that bottle down the sink and then rinsed it out. Can’t have Ben reporting these little slips to Anthony, and I know he’s keeping an eye on me for that sort of thing.
See… those two conspire so well together.
And it works. It keeps me passably well and safe.
“And how is Ms. Cassidy?”
See.
I sat down on the loveseat, careful of my full mug to the point that I wouldn’t have to look at him. Yes, there was weather last night. Yes, Ben laid low in his room, listening to Amy Winehouse cds.
“She says she might be a couple of days late on the order. Trouble in paradise, apparently.” Yes, I always say just a little bit more than I want to say.
Anthony smirked at me, lifted the eyebrow a fraction.
“Look,” I said. “I’m the least threat to that domestic bliss.”
Anthony chuckled.
“As long as I get everything by Wednesday everything should be ok. Lots of custom requests this time, so I planned ahead for it. If it helps, call her and tell her to focus on the custom stuff. You can fill in the gaps in the case from that estate stuff we got in last month.”
“Pray for sunny skies.” I did say this with a smile on my face.
I actually try to go a month or so between distress calls. I swear.
Fucking weather.
I think I might have put my hand to my throat to hide my new garnet pendant.
