Her hand shakes as she uses a box cutter to slice open UPS packages and takes out cotton sweaters that just arrived from Santa Monica. She’d ordered them weeks ago, thinking their bright stripes would be perfect for spring. But now the jaunty colors seem garish, and she wonders if her judgment is off.
“Do you want some tea?”
Marissa starts at the sound of Polly’s voice. “I’m fine.” Marissa doesn’t glance up. Why can’t Polly take a hint?
Marissa’s phone pings and she snatches it out of her purse. She’d texted Matthew as she retraced her steps from the Chevy Chase Circle back to Coco: Hope your day goes well.… I love you.
It’s just an email from Natalie. In the hour or so since the conclusion of this morning’s auction meeting, Natalie has already sent along the minutes and created a spreadsheet with action tasks assigned to each committee member. Marissa is supposed to ask her vendors to donate additional goods for the event, even though the school already has more than 150 pieces for the silent bidding.
This is Natalie’s first time on the benefit committee, and she has made it clear that she wants to set a record for profits. Marissa closes the email without reading it through to the end.
Marissa is searching for a missing invoice for her accountant and fighting the urge to check her phone again when Polly pokes her head into the room. “You sure I can’t pick you up a salad or a sandwich?”
“No. Thank you,” Marissa replies in a tight voice.
“Well, if you need anything, I’m just up front. I’m going to start wrapping the bridesmaids’ gifts for the Webster wedding.”
Marissa can sense Polly’s presence; her young assistant is hovering in the doorway. “I was just thinking. About that message. It’s so creepy! Should we call the police?”
“No!” Marissa’s tone is knife sharp. She spins around to face Polly. “Actually, Polly, I do need something.”
Polly’s face lights up.
“I need you to answer a question for me. Why did you show that note to Matthew?”
“Uh … like I said, he was right there when I saw it—”
Marissa cuts her off. There’s no reply Polly can give that will better the situation. If Polly were a different sort of person—thoroughly professional and discreet—Matthew might not ever have known about the note.
Her husband is smart. He could very well be working his way to the same conclusion Avery already reached about the sender.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Marissa’s voice catches on her last word.
“I’m so sorry, Marissa, but I—” Polly’s lower lip is trembling and her eyes shine with tears.
Marissa can’t manage Polly’s feelings now. She can’t even be around her for another minute.
The intrusions, the borrowed earrings, the mimicry. It’s too much.
“Why don’t you leave for the day,” Marissa snaps. “Actually, don’t come in for the rest of the week. I’ll pay you for your usual hours.”
“What?” Polly looks utterly stricken.
“I think you should take some time off.”
Polly begins to babble. “I didn’t mean to—”
Thankfully, Marissa’s ringing phone cuts her off.
It’s a client who wants to place a special order. “Hold on just one second and let me get to my computer,” Marissa says into the phone. She mutes the call. “Polly, I’ll be in touch soon.”
Before Polly can say another word, Marissa turns all of her attention back to her caller.
* * *
The first few hours without Polly are like a holiday. Only two customers stop by, so Marissa has the luxury of sipping tea and straightening every last shelf, drawer, and surface in her shop. She hadn’t realized how pervasive Polly’s presence was in the shop; how watched Marissa felt. Alone with her thoughts, she begins to formulate what she’ll say to Matthew tonight. She’ll suggest another date night this weekend, so they don’t lose the progress they’ve made.
But the moment Marissa checks the calendar on her computer, her hard-fought peace vanishes. Matthew’s overseas client will be here all week, and Matthew will be working late every night. Bennett has a baseball game at three today that Marissa planned to attend. Plus, she has a dental checkup on Thursday, and there’s another auction meeting Friday morning. The only options Marissa has are to cancel everything, to shut down the shop while she’s away, or apologize to Polly and ask her to come back.
Marissa looks around her tranquil, gorgeous store. She’s tempted to hang a little sign on her door explaining the hours have been adjusted, but that’s a guaranteed way to upset customers. She needs Polly here this week. Marissa will blame her irritability on the events of the past few days. Polly will probably understand: the pregnancy disappointment, Marissa’s lack of sleep, the ominous note … But Marissa will simultaneously step up her search for a permanent replacement. She has already reached out to a few friends to see if they know anyone who might be looking, but she hasn’t received any promising replies. Marissa takes a moment to craft an email to the career placement center of George Washington University, asking if she can post a listing.
Then she dials Polly’s number. It goes straight to voice mail: “Hi, this is Polly. I’m out and about. But if you leave your number, I’ll give you a shout.”
Even Polly’s rhyming message irritates Marissa, but she simply asks Polly to please call her back as soon as possible.
Marissa helps a young man choose a cashmere blanket for his girlfriend and a woman on her lunch break select gorgeous bookends for her secretary. Even though the woman shops at Coco every few weeks, Marissa can’t recall her name. If Polly were there, she’d prompt Marissa. Polly made it a point to learn all of the details about their frequent customers.
Ringing the woman up, Marissa glances at the name on the credit card. “Bye, Carole,” Marissa calls out as her customer exits the store.
Then Marissa dials Polly again. Still no answer. This time, Marissa doesn’t leave a message.
Marissa glances at her watch: Bennett’s game is at St. Albans’s field.
She wants to send Matthew pictures of their son playing, not only because he’d love to see them, but also as a reminder of all they’ve built together.
But she can’t man the store and attend the game.
Polly still hasn’t phoned back. And Matthew hasn’t texted.
Marissa reaches for her laptop computer and searches her email files until she finds the résumé Polly submitted when she applied for the job. She lives near American University, just off Massachusetts Avenue.
The cursor blinks on Marissa’s computer screen as she calculates time and distance, mentally reorganizing her afternoon. Polly probably went home, even given the rodent issue. She’d mentioned to Marissa that she would be stopping by her house every day to shower and grab a change of clothes. Perhaps she’s in the shower now, which is why she isn’t answering her phone. If Marissa closes Coco and leaves immediately, she could get to Polly’s, convince her assistant to come back, and still make it to the field in time for the second inning.
She removes her coat from the hook inside her office, flips the store’s OPEN sign to CLOSED, and types the address into Google Maps. It’s a seventeen-minute drive, according to the app.