Instead of filling me in, she pushed her chair back and stood, crossed her arms, paced a few steps, and stopped with her back to me.

“Angelica?”

She pivoted, the move efficient and precise. I heard her inhale, then she said, “On Friday, I was diagnosed with an aggressive type of brain cancer.”

My heart stopped. My brows shot up, and my mouth gaped open as that sank in. I tried to swallow my fear on her behalf and watched her, waiting for her to tell me it wasn’t so, but of course, if it wasn’t, those words would never have crossed her lips. She wasn’t one to joke around. Her face gave no hint of emotion.

“I’m… God, Angelica. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

She walked back to her desk, then past it, as if she couldn’t bear to sit down, and I watched her for a cue. I’d learned to read her pretty well in the twelve years I’d worked for her, but she wasn’t making eye contact and had her walls up high. Now that I looked harder, I noted she looked tired, worn down, a little thinner than usual, with dark shadows under her eyes.

As I was trying to come up with something else to say—what the actual hell was the right thing to say in this situation?—she lowered herself to her chair. There was a millisecond when her defenses failed her, and her chin succumbed to a minute quiver, then she clenched her jaw against it.

“I’m taking this week to organize, and I’ll be out indefinitely starting next Monday.” I was still playing catch-up in my head when she continued, “I want you to take over the Dragonfly Lake project, effective as soon as you can get your team prepped to cover for you.”

“Of course,” I said on autopilot. Her wish, my command. Never mind that it was a giant honor to step in as the leader of this project—of any project—in her stead. I’d process that later, after the whole cancer bombshell took hold.

I wanted to ask her what her prognosis was. That seemed like pertinent info whether it was your boss or your family member, but…

Hell. What would happen to Marks International if she wasn’t here to run it?

Would I even have a job in a year’s time?

Congrats on being the most self-centered girl on the planet.

“I don’t request that of you lightly,” Angelica said, all business. “I know this town makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her.

Uncomfortable wasn’t the right word. Regressive was more spot-on. Dragonfly Lake had the power to make me regress to that insecure teenage version of me in a heartbeat. It wasn’t logical, but I’d experienced it first-hand not fifteen minutes ago.