Of course, that was when Eli came out of the break room, his usual charming smile totally wiped clean off his face. He was still holding the plastic stars that they had found on Jo’s shelf in one hand.

He looked serious, and Eli never looked serious.

Daniella wanted to say something, say anything. But she was, for once, without words. Without sarcasm or a witty repartee. She was just a scared girl standing in front of an angry woman, trying to find her way out of a mess that was beyond her hands.

Jesus Christ and all the holy saints.

“It was me,” said Eli. “It was my fault.”

“Oh, wonderful, great. If only I knew what exactly you’re at fault for.” Jo put both of her hands on her face and pulled down, like she could peel off all her frustrations that way. “Love that nobody is giving me a straight answer about any of this. I’ve got Imogen skulking through the store, throwing notebooks around. I’ve got Daniella answering questions with lies. And I’ve got Rinn staring gape-mouthed over there, with her phone—which I took earlier today, mind you—stuck in the back of her skirt like I wouldn’t notice. I’m going to ask you all one last time. What the hell is going on?”

“I stole the money.” Eli’s voice didn’t even crack or waver; Daniella had to give him that.

“You what?” Jo blinked. Just stared and blinked.

“It’s gone. It’s all gone.” Eli wiped his hands against each other in an elaborate motion to show that everything that had been done could not be undone. “All the petty cash.”

“Eli, it was nine thousand dollars. It can’t all be gone.” There was an incredulity in Jo’s voice. Like she didn’t want to believe it. Like if she believed what Eli was saying, she would have to take a whole host of actions that she had never prepared herself to take before.

And if Daniella knew one thing, she knew Jo would take whatever actions were necessary and good. Jo wouldn’t like it. But she would fortify herself and she would do the right thing. Jo would turn Eli in if she had to. They were opposites in that way. Because Daniella would do anything to keep Eli out of jail.

The store stopped. The woman in the children’s section. The stuffy old French lady. Myrna, who was sipping the last dregs of her coffee, sat right back down in the middle of getting up from her latest chair.