Chapter Eight
New families, follow-ups, complaints, and telling Grant only what he wanted to hear. So much about this job took a piece out of her little by little. Maybe that was why Billy Jo was sitting in the dark in her small office with the blinds closed, needing a minute before she figured out which tasks she could push to the side and avoid and which she had to do.
There was a tap on the open door, and she dropped her hands from where they were pressed over her face and turned in her chair to see Gail, with her graying shoulder-length hair. She had never been in her office before.
“Gail, what are you doing here?”
“You busy? So this is where you hang out. You don’t like lights?” She wore blue jeans and a blue striped T-shirt, the same one she’d worn earlier, with a brown purse slu
