Chapter 2
Erin swallowed the last of her cold hazelnut coffee, then pulled her wavy brown hair back into a ponytail. Her work uniform of boring khakis and a painfully cheerful periwinkle-blue Rosebriar golf shirt couldn’t be improved. She belted out the last verse, hoping to somehow shield her brain even though that never worked.
Erin raised her voice for the big finish, all about Rudolph going down in his-tooo-reeee. The simple pleasure of making her own noise for a change left her grinning.
But not for long.
The problem with reusing the orange earplugs until they were shriveled and no longer soft—and the frustration of shipping delays on the latest batch she’d ordered from sss—assaulted her as soon as she pushed the door open.
The high-pitched chorus of Hanson’s Mmmbop echoed throug
