Page 3 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
It wasn’t caught until we did the final testing, and the boards fritzed.
And then, ouresteemed professionalsbroke half the pieces trying to disconnect and reassemble the boards. So now we were up shit’s creek and wemight’vehad a paddle to get us out, like rushing new builds through the plant.Might’ve.If half the parts weren’t on back order.
Couldn’t build a board without parts.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Mr. Hollingdale sniffed in my ear. “What kind of issues are we talking about, Pippi?”
“Well, you see…” I drummed my fingers against the desk. Fiddled with the fat cat pen holder my fellow project coordinator, Kai, had gotten me for our white elephant gift exchange at Yuletide last year. Flipped through my notebook, my eyes catching on the scribblings I’d made in the corner yesterday morning. The start of a story. An angsty office romance I’d thought up while watching two of my marriedcoworkers flirt in a meeting.
And they werenotmarried to each other.
What happens if you meet the right person at the wrong time?What happens if the person who uplifts you, soothes your soul, and makes you whole wasn’t the one you married?
Do you risk it all at the call of your soulmate? Or do you play it safe and stay with the life partner you chose—even if that partner is slowly suffocating the light out of you?
Stars, that was terrible.
“Yes, Pippi?” Mr. Hollingdale pressed.
“We…uhh….” My eyes kept roaming. Looking at my email. Scanning the heads of the people in the cubicles around me, I noticed Kai’s spiky brown hair bobbing along to the music coming out of his earbuds and Jessa’s slick, shimmering curtain of blond hair, which sparkled under the too-bright fluorescent lights.
I was looking for something—a miracle. A shining knight who’d swoop in and save me. A gentle way to deliver the bombshell.Something.
But there was nothing. No one.
My hands left sweat streaks on top of my bland, grey desk as I went back to drumming my fingers. “Mr. Hollingdale, I’m afraid we’re not going to make your ship date.”
“No?” A sniffy response. Not angry, not yet. Because he probably figured I’d come back with something like, “Yeah, we’re gonna be about a week late.”
The actual date would gast all his freaking flabbers.
“No.” I watched the patterns my sweaty fingers left on the desk. “There was an issue in production. A…well…alargeissue. But I want to make it clear that this wasourmistake, and no extra costs will be incurred on your end.”
A big wet sigh heaved into my ear. “What kind of delay are we talking here, Pippa?”
So much for all that talk about how he likes my name.
DING!
My heart jumped at Andy’s newest message, hoping—praying—it’d be good news. But then my eyes absorbed the text, and my heart flattened itself beneath my feet and died.
Andy: Right now, the best ETA on shipping is August fourteenth.
I gulped.
August fourteenth wasfour monthsfrom now.
This order was supposed to ship thisMonday.
“Pippa?” Mr. Hollingdale’s voice thinned. Still not angry, but annoyed.
DING!
Jessa: If the news is that bad, have him call Andy for an update.
I jerked my head up and met Jessa’s big, watery blue eyes over the edge of the cubicle. She emitted a wave of righteous rage as she tucked her chin down, banging out another message on her keyboard.
DING!
