Chapter 8: Yes to Saturday

I carried the lemon tarts across the hall and dropped them into my neighbor's compost bin, with the lid shut.

Then I called Megan.

"She brought tarts," I said. "With my name on them."

"Burn the tarts."

"I already threw them out. Listen. She stole my itinerary."

I told her about Day Four.

Megan was quiet for a while, which was rare.

"Okay," she said. "How do you prove it?"

"I wrote it in March. It's in a document. It has a version history."

"Does she have access?"

"I shared it with her so she could read it before we flew. View only."

"Then the history shows who typed every word."

"Yes."

"So it shows she didn't."

I sat on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinet.

"She wants me at her launch on Saturday," I said. "Standing next to her. Smiling for the sponsors."

"Say yes."

"Megan."

"Say yes. Wear the nice dress. Let her stand on that stage and tell four hundred people she built it herself."

She had never sounded so happy.

"And then?"

"Then you bring a screen."

"And you back that document up tonight," she added. "Email a copy to me. Print the history too."

"Why print it?"

"Because she's the kind of person who deletes things."

I did all three before I did anything else.

I texted Joss before I could talk myself out of it.

I'll come Saturday. Seven o'clock.

Her answer came back in under a minute. A row of hearts, and a line. I KNEW you would. You are the best person I know.

I turned my phone over.

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