"Oh, I'm fine, how are you?" Genevieve chirped back, only to flinch and continue with a weak "Oh, you just told me that. You're good, I'm also good." She stood staring at the small woman, swallowed, and then to stop staring stared at her laptop instead.

The name Mary Dahl, in big letters at the top of the resume, meant nothing to her. She'd never taken an interest in pop culture or celebrity news, her apartment even lacked a TV. (At Waylon's they mainly watched sports and news.)