Chapter Twenty-Seven

The morning of Tracy’s meeting with Gordon Baxter was a frenzied rush of activity, as she had tons of things to do. She was a nervous wreck. Everything that she did was done with half her mind elsewhere, leading to more than one disaster. The coffee machine overflowed after she dumped way too much coffee grounds into the basket. Her solitary piece of toast, the only thing that she thought could stomach, burned into a stinky, square puck.

Even her lowly hair brush wasn't immune. Some time earlier, Tracy had accidentally turned on a flat iron that she’d left out. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t left her brush sitting on top of it. When she stepped out of the shower, she was met only by a molten puddle of plastic and rubber.

If this is how today is going to be, she thought to herself, maybe I should just go back to bed.

Mr. Hayes, who had gone out briefly that morning, walked back into their bedroom and spotted Tracy sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a plush cotton to