DEMETRIA

“Thirty minutes until closing,” I said to one of my junior staff, who nodded as she continued to work. I patted her on the shoulder and headed to my office. I’d already called Anastasia to come pick me up. Her job as an art curator kept her busy, but she always made time for me when I needed her. I didn’t want to bother Marion or Hulk.

“See y’all tomorrow,” I announced to my workers and left. Just as I stepped out of the bakery, Anastasia’s car pulled in. Right on ...