Of course, root beer floats don't fix everything. The rest of the day was the longest, most awkward of my life. I took Barbara for about ten walks just to get out. Dad took about ten walks himself. Though I couldn't blame him one bit. He could go outside whenever he wanted and that must really be something.

Mercifully, dad actually had a lot to do. Eric called to hear what dad thought about life on the outside, his social worker and parole officer made appointments to stop by the following week and go over some rules with him, (I wondered if murderers had the same parole regulations as nerdy financial advisors.) and then he went out with some cash Abby, Eric, and I gave him to get some clothes that fit. I prayed they were interview clothes.

Monday, Little Cut stuck his thumb in my cube and pointed it up and down. I gave him a shaky thumbs up to indicate things were going well, but were still pretty awkward. My boss seemed to think that was good news. I wished dad hadn't burned his bridges at Cutter Co. I probably could have gotten him a job here. Instead I took note of the "Help Wanted" sign at my usual lunchtime deli.

At three o'clock I made coffee. I inhaled the hazelnut grounds like it was my job. I loved the quick cup my Keurig provided, but it was the same as making coffee the old-fashioned way. I shook the grounds around and inhaled again. My eyes were closed when, "Smells good."

"Carol! You startled me." I looked back at our phones. We weren't both supposed to be away from them at the same time.

She noted my nerves. "I'll be quick." She eyed the coffee like I wasn't being quick. Despite her kindness the day at the absent farmer's market, Carol drove me nuts. She was so stiff and- "I understand your dad is staying with you." Oh great.

"Yes," I said the word like a dare.

"Here." She handed me a business card. "My ex-husband has a company. He often hires people getting back on their feet."

"Oh." I pressed the corner of the card into the pad of my index finger. "Thank you, Carol." I was so touched that I didn't worry until later what else Carol might know about me. Those cubicle walls were sneakily thin. The card read 'Carl's Towing.'

"He always needs people for odd jobs. Not just towing. He likes to help people," she looked at the card like it was her very heart. There was a story there for sure.

"Carol, thank you so much for thinking of my dad. This is amazing." I really was amazed. How very perfect. How very kind. Carol probably never had to have shadows visit her and scold her for not thinking of others. I thought about Millie and her question, "What makes you happy?" I wondered what made Carol happy. If Carol was happy. "Thank you," I told her for the third time, unable to put together a sentence that would convey exactly how thankful I was. "Wanna smell?" I pushed the coffee grounds toward her, my only offering.

She gave me a forced smile. "I'm good." Andheaded back to her cube. I hit my palm with the card. "Carl's Towing." Thiscould be perfect for dad.