“Margaret,” I said under my breath.

“Ask her about validating the parking.”

Margaret lifted an eyebrow but moved closer to the desk.

“Honey, I’ve got a question about the garage.” I walked to the elevator with the tote pressed against my side.

The doors shut before the receptionist turned back around.

The elevator smelled of lemon polish.

I watched the numbers go up and promised myself I wouldn’t raise my voice.

On the third floor, the hall smelled of new carpet and coffee.