“Understood.” I let go of the button and covered my eyes with my hand. The new Ellie’s paint wasn’t even dry, and I’d already managed to ding the first door that had opened. I rubbed my temples, feeling another headache. I wanted a drink; my mouth felt dry, and my mind toyed with having José stop at the liquor store on the way home.

“Ellie?” Jojo said from the doorway, startling me.

I pulled my hand away from my face. “Yes?”

“You’re going the right direction. No one does anything perfectly the first time. It’s going to be okay.”

No one could have said anything better to me in that instant. Those three simple sentences set my soul at ease.

“Thank you,” was all I could manage.

Jojo winked at me and returned to her desk.

I clicked a few times to navigate to the computer’s settings, and then selected Change Username/Password.

USERNAME: ELLIE2POINT0

PASSWORD: RIGHTDIRECTION001

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bluegrass played through ceiling speakers placed throughout the MountainEar building. I thumbed through a stack of pictures from the recent half marathon, shaking my head.

“You don’t like the music. I figured you were a rock chick,” Wick said, walking into my office.

“I tune out the music,” I said, laying the pictures down on my desk, fanned out. “It’s the pictures. They’re terrible, Wick. Who took them?”

“She’s right,” Jojo said, sitting on the loveseat across from me. She crossed her legs, her snow boots still wet from her walk inside. “I’ve seen them. They suck. You’ve got to quit letting Mike turn in that crap. Just quit using him period.”

Wick frowned. “There’s no one else.”

I nodded toward Jojo. “Her coverage of the art walk was stellar. Why not just use Jojo?”

Jojo smiled and stood. “Because Jojo has an office to run.”

“Who took those?” Wick asked, pointing to the frames on my desk.

“Oh,” I said, turning them slightly. “I did. Just something to remind me what I’m trying to do.”

Jojo walked around my desk, picking up a frame holding a picture I’d taken at my parents’ house the weekend before. I had snapped just half of the black and white portrait of Finley hanging in my parents’ main hall—taken when she was just fourteen. Even back then, she was stunning.

“You took this? Who is this?” Jojo asked.

“My sister,” I said, my voice quiet. I hadn’t spoken to Finley since I’d woken up next to Sterling. She had left me a few voicemails, but she also understood that I might not want to chat about her vacation by the sea while I was stuck in a snow globe.

“It’s actually pretty good,” Jojo said. She looked at Wick, and he agreed. She picked up another frame, and then set it down. “What camera are you using?”