Permission

Paige

Someone knocked on my door in the middle of my workday on Friday, so I stood to open it.

“Hi!” Sera wrapped me in a perfume-scented hug.

I tried to extricate myself. “Uh, hi. What are you—”

She bustled inside with a large tote bag that didn’t match her perfect, deep red pantsuit and began laying things out on the kitchenette counter of my suite. “Today’s the day, right? I wanted to go over the plan.”

“Oh.” I drifted over to the counter with her.

“So, it’s a little short-notice, but I was able to get six of my friends—well, five and my mom—to offer their services.” She laid out a list of names, each of which had four or five bullet points underneath it. “I didn’t know exactly what kind of space we were working with, so I figured a list with everyone’s skills would be most useful.” She grinned at me. “In terms of other stuff, I put together this care package”—she pulled out a pink mesh bag that looked like it had been made for makeup—“for each of the women. I know you said you did