Luke squeezes Eloise’s arm. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll let him know you were here.”
“Thanks.” Eloise clicked the button a few times and then decided to write her dad a Post-it and stick it to his monitor so he would see it when he returned.
She raced off toward his office. Marge, his receptionist, is away from her desk, so Eloise slips inside, grabs a pen, and quickly writes, ‘You forgot again…you owe me three lunches—E.’
She posted it to the monitor and let herself out.
“Oh, hello,” a woman with straight blonde hair cut in a bob greets her. “Eloise. right?”
“Ah, yes.” She smiled. “Where’s Marge?”
“Her father is sick, so she visited him in Philly.”
Later that evening, Eloise’s father finally calls her.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“Eloise, sorry I forgot about today.” Sh
