Linny's Sweet Dream List by Susan Schild Page B

pulled onto the interstate, her stomach churned at the thought of being back at work. She’d thought she was ready, but she wasn’t. She was too raw and disoriented to act like a competent professional. Why had she agreed to go back early? Linny tried to remember one of Indigo’s dances but drew a blank. She sighed as she rolled into the parking lot of Kipling Outsourcing.
    As she pushed the button for the eighth floor, Linny took a deep breath, trying to quell her rising panic. Nervously, she gave herself a once-over in the mirrored door of elevator, and was surprised at how presentable she looked for a woman who’d had to rummage through three packing boxes to find her pumps. She tried to flex her cramped toes and sighed. Nine days of wearing running shoes had been heaven.
    As she opened the door to her office, she stopped short. A woman sat at her desk, looking at her laptop, and talking on her phone. Linny felt a wave of hot irritation when she recognized Annalise, the brainy new hire with the chic asymmetrical haircut and slightly superior attitude. Linny tried to sound cordial. “Good morning, Annalise.”
    The young woman jumped, but held up a finger to quiet Linny while ending her call. As she replaced the receiver, she said coolly, “Hi, Linny. We’re short on offices. Walt said find whatever space I could and, well, you’ve been away.” Her eyes glinted behind her hipster glasses. “Sorry.”
    But she didn’t sound sorry, and she took her time about gathering her papers from the desk and slipping them in a binder. The blood pounded in Linny’s ears, and she tried to slow her breath as she fought the urge to say, Yes, it took a little time to bury my husband. Instead, she nodded, willed her blood pressure back down, and waited for her to leave.
    Annalise was two steps into the hallway when she paused and called over her shoulder, “I’m sorry about . . . your loss.”
    Automatically, Linny said, “Thank you,” but the young woman was already gone. Smarting from the rudeness, she sat, but quickly stood up. The chair was still warm from the new hire’s skinny bottom. She’d get a cup of coffee and let the chair—and her temper—cool off.
    En route to the break room, she tried to slow her breathing. When had Annalise become so pushy? Before Linny had gone on leave, Annalise was assigned to shadow her for a week. She’d asked earnest questions, and taken detailed notes. Linny had been impressed with her, and more than a little bit flattered.
    As she waited for the coffee machine to finish dripping, Linny closed her eyes briefly, breathed in the scent of hazelnut, and tried to remember the chapter she’d read yesterday—another dance she’d had trouble visualizing. Indigo was pushing it with her suggestion to Frug with the fox through fear and frustration . Finally, the coffee was done and, gratefully, she lifted the cup.
    Her boss, Walt, strode into the break room and boomed, “Good morning.”
    Linny jostled her cup, and hot coffee splashed her fingers. Dang . Putting the cup down carefully, she mopped up as she tried to smile at him. “Good morning, Walt.”
    â€œLinny, I hate that we’re having this same conversation again, after such a short time. We are so sorry about the loss of your husband.” He clasped her hands with his baseball-mitt-sized hands.
    She nodded her thanks. It was a déjà vu moment. She’d had this exact same conversation with Walt three years ago when she’d lost a husband worth mourning. “Thanks for the flowers, Walt. I really appreciate all your calls and support.”
    â€œWell, when a member of the team takes a hit, we all take a hit.” He nodded vigorously, and gave her a searching gaze. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back at work? We want you to take all the time you need to . . . feel better.”
    For a moment, Linny felt