“Get a grip, Nina,” I whispered to myself. Inside the elevator, I pressed the button, and took a deep, cleansing breath as the doors slid closed. When they opened again, the relaxing breath proved to be futile.

“Well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Sasha said. One hand on her hip, one hand holding a short stack of papers, her long red curls set off her sharp features. A mature person would admit that Sasha was beautiful—I, however, had accepted long ago that Sasha brought out the stubborn, angry child within.

“Oh, my. Did you get yourself a perm while I was away? I guess the eighties are coming back.” I brushed past her, deciding against shoving my shoulder into her bony arm.

“Hot rollers. Grant has made a point to mention the curls today, too.”

“Where is Grant?”

“In his office. He waited for half an hour in yours. You’re late.”

“I came straight from the airport. Why are you still here?”

Sasha shrugged. “I keep whatever hours Grant keeps.”

I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “Are those for me?”

“Yes,” she said, handing them over. “I was about to make copies.”

“That won’t be necessary. Thanks for staying, but you should head home.” I took the papers and made my way to Grant’s office. His shoeless feet, in hideous tan and green argyle socks, rested on his desk.

“There she is: Mrs. Peanut.”

“Don’t start,” I said, setting the documents on his desk. “I told you I would be right over. Why did you send Sasha to make copies of these?”

Grant covered his face with his hands. “Sasha’s a sweet girl—to me—but she’s an overachiever. I’ve been making up things for her to do.”

I laughed once. “She wants the assistant job. That’s why she’s been in your hair.”

“In my hair, in my office, in my desk, in my face, in my way. She’s incorrigible. I honestly don’t have enough for her to do. She refuses to help out in the other departments and won’t leave until I do.”

“Grant. She’s an intern. She shouldn’t refuse to do anything.”

Grant thought about my comment for a moment and then nodded. “That’s true. You can give her a new assignment in the morning.”

“Oh, no. You’re not pawning this off on me. Sasha is your problem.”

Grant fell back against his chair. “I don’t want to upset her, and you don’t seem to mind. I thought you’d be happy to do it.”

“How has this company lasted so long with such a weenie in charge?” I said, scanning the document. “Are these…bullet points?”

“I had Sasha type it out. I told her I didn’t want to forget anything.” I made a face, and Grant shrugged. “I didn’t see her for an hour. She had trouble perfecting the margins.”