“Hey, you must be Sheila. I’ve heard so much about you.” The voice was sophisticated rather than cheesy. In a minute flat, Heidi shattered my image of her in a paisley sweater-vest and hairsprayed bangs. Suddenly, I felt like a pickled fish.

“Um, ah”—jeez, though Pregnant Kate wouldn’t leave her e-mail address, she seemed to have left her mild speech impediment—“um, hey Heidi. Um, I’ve heard lots about you, too.”

“Ah, well then, is Matty around?” I stumbled to the back to retrieve “Matty,” but he was nowhere to be found.

“Um, Heidi, he must have just stepped out. Can I have him call you back?”

“Sure, that’d be great, Sheila,” she said, sighing loudly. “Does he seem OK to you today?”

“Yeah, he seems fine, why?” Fine was putting it mildly. I’d never seen Matthew in such a good mood. He’d arrived at work that morning with bagels and coffee for everyone, including Roy and Janet. Shortly thereafter, he’d squeezed my shoulder, announced he’d find Cousin Mort “come hell or high water,” and traipsed to the back.

Heidi started sniffling. “Well,” she said, “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. We, we broke up last night.” My head started spinning. Why hadn’t Matthew told me? He’d spent days, weeks, months discussing the breakup and when it finally happened—bagels?

“Wow. Heidi, I, I don’t even know what to say.” I tried sounding the exact opposite of how I felt—namely, ecstatic. “I, um—”

“It’s OK, Sheila. You don’t have to say anything. Matty’s been trying to do this for some time but I just wouldn’t let him. He’d say he wasn’t happy and I’d say we could work it out and on and on and then finally last night”—she was freely crying now—“he said he was in love with someone else and that there was nothing he could do about it and there was nothing further for us to work out.”

In love with someone else?

“God, Heidi, I really am so so sorry. Did he happen to mention who this someone else—”

“Who are you speaking to?” Matthew asked, confused about why his colleague was whispering into his phone.

“Um, hey, Matthew. It’s Heidi,” I said meekly, embarrassed that I’d been busted for attempted extraction of information from his mourning ex-girlfriend.

He took the phone slowly and I made myself scarce by checking on Roy, who immediately started rattling off his grievances about greedy greenhouse-keepers. Roy needed a blog.

“Hey, Sheila, can I speak to you?” Matthew peered around the corner, beckoning me back into the clerks’ cave.

My heart was pounding so hard, I was afraid to move. Thankfully Roy opened his mouth to speak again, his breath propelling me from my seat.

“Yeah, what’s up, Matthew?”