It was working. I slowly ascended until I had enough leverage to pull myself up. Why on earth did people make ceilings a thousand feet high?

I crawled back as quickly as I could without falling through the ceiling, but my shaking arms weren’t helping. Neither was GS’s desire to play pounce-the-human. Basically, the next chain of events was the result of a combination of several key factors, the main one being a sudden and devastating lack of strength. Despite all the careful navigation, I fell through the ceiling. I know. I never saw it coming either.

And I had been this close.

Part of me landed on the shelves we’d dragged over, and the other part, namely my ass, did not. I executed this cool flip thing – I knew this because the ceiling was there, then it wasn’t, then it was again – and landed face-first on the linoleum floor.

“Janey!” Cookie screeched and rushed to me. “Oh, my God, are you okay?” She pried me off the floor and helped me to my feet.

“I – I think so.” I blinked and tried to fill my lungs. They refused to take more than a quarter of a tank. It would have to do for now.

She brushed me off, and then we turned in unison to the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“Think Dixie will notice that?” I asked Cookie.

It really wasn’t that big. And it was right beside the original access panel. Now Dixie could have two.

“We can cover it up,” Cookie said, panicking.

“That’s going to take a lot of spackle.”

“No, with the shelves.”

“Oh, right.” We pushed the shelves over until they were directly under the hole.

“Okay,” I said, assessing our work. “As long as everyone stands right here, right in this very spot, they won’t be able to see it.”

“This sucks,” Cookie said, suddenly despondent.

“Don’t worry, hon. I’ll pay for it. Dixie won’t mind.”

“Wait, maybe Robert can fix it. We can offer his services in exchange for us keeping our jobs.”

“Cook, you are not taking the blame for any of what happened here. This is all on me.”

“Let me at least try. I’ll text him to see if he’s still here. He can come take a look. You got my phone?”

I patted my front pockets. My empty front pockets. My eyes rounded, and fear shot lasers up my spine. Did I lay it down somewhere? I couldn’t remember.

“Janey,” she said.

This was not happening.

“Oh, Janey, no. No, no, no. You did not leave my phone in Mr. V’s shop where any terrorist could find it.”

“Cook, I never said they were terrorists,” I said as I patted my back pockets. My fingers touched something square, and I almost fell to the ground in relief. But I’d already done that today, and once was good enough for me. I grinned.

“Oh, thank God,” Cookie said.

I pulled it out and handed it to her, pretending not to notice the shattered screen.

“Oh,” she said.

“I bet a little shipping tape will fix that right up. You’ll hardly be able to tell.”

She tried to stop a giggle from escaping and ended up snorting in the process.

“I’m sorry, Cook.”

“Janey, do you think I care?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re right, but not at the expense of your safety. It broke your fall.”

“That was my face.”

“Was any of that worth the effort?”

I told Cookie what I’d found as we headed to the door and opened it to a sea of heads.

Dixie stood on the other side. Along with Reyes, Bobert, Garrett, Lewis, and Sumi, though I could only see the top of her head. They were all packed into the tin-can hallway like sardines. Osh was there, too, but he stood back a little, wearing his signature smirk. He would be the smartass sardine.

“Could you two be any louder?” Dixie asked.

“We could try,” I said, my brows scrunched together with worry. “This was my fault. Cookie had nothing to do with it.”

Cookie stood behind me, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, I did. It was my idea.”

“It so was not.”

“Was too.”

I glared at her. “Cook —”

“What on God’s green earth?” Dixie had spotted the ceiling. She stepped inside.

“It just fell,” Cookie said. “It was crazy.”

Dixie turned back to… Reyes? An accusing expression on her face. An expectant one.

He nodded, and she brightened. Like surface-of-the-sun bright. “No harm, no foul,” she said, ushering us out. “That happens all the time. We’ll get it fixed in no time. Herb Wassermann. Best handyman in town.”

Cookie and I exchanged confused glances.

Wait. No we didn’t. I exchanged a confused glance. Cookie didn’t seem surprised in the least. Relieved, but not surprised.

“So weird how that happens,” she said to Dixie.

Dixie nodded. “Water damage from the storm back in ’22.”

As in 1922?

“You mean ’82?” Bobert asked.

“Yes.” Dixie chuckled. “Sorry. Get my decades mixed up all the time. Back to work, girls. Place is hoppin’.”

She practically pushed Cookie and me into the café. Everyone else either went back to work or sat back down. We were thoroughly glared at by Erin and Francie. Apparently they’d been handling the lunch crowd on their own and were none too happy about it.

I pocketed the keys I’d lifted while in the storeroom and went back to work. Dixie was right. The place was definitely hoppin’.

My first stop was a table with a single white female. Probably here for dinner and the show. If Reyes would learn to strip, we’d be set for life.

“Hey, hon. Can I get you something to drink?”

She glanced up at me, the barest hint of recognition flashing across her face, but only for a second. I’d learned not to get my hopes up. Everyone who’d seen me on the news thought I looked familiar.

“Hi,” she said, giving me a quick once-over. She had a short brown bob and a pretty oval face, but the navy power suit said it all. She was someone important. Or she could have made paper airplanes for a living. Didn’t matter. With that suit on, she could convince anyone of anything.

“Love the suit,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She offered me an appreciative half smile, but what I felt from her was more like… relief? “I’d love water for now. And coffee.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

Before I left the table, the blond woman I’d met a day earlier walked in – or, well, stumbled in – and sat at the table across from my customer. I could only hope they knew each other.

“Hi again,” the blonde said. Her hair was a bit wild and her cheeks bright pink. “Some weather, huh?”

“Yes, it is. Are you having a good vacation?”

“This is Kit,” she said in lieu of an answer.

I stuck out my hand with a chuckle. “Hi, Kit.”

“I’m Gemma.”

“I remember.” Clearly Gemma had issues. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure.” When I stood there staring at her, she jumped as though startled. “Oh, right, yes. Ummmm…” She looked at the menu. “How about a…” She tapped her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know…” She bit her lip. It was a big decision. “Coffee?”