One Week Later

N ot only had Violet noticed the rings, but she'd noticed the scar. It was on her right hand, which had been the one on her stomach that the Rachel woman hadn't been holding. It had been totally visible to Violet, matching the burn she'd given herself at age twenty-four when she'd been pulling Bagel Bites out of the toaster oven and the top of her hand had hit the rack. The spider-web-like scar hadn't ever gone fully away, even though it had gotten harder to see with time, but if this vision was to be believed, it seemed that it never would because that was Violet lying in the hospital bed, dead from something in her old age.

She had to be at least eighty there. Maybe older. She'd always tried to keep a good skin regimen, using makeup with sunscreen in it and making sure to thoroughly wash her face each night with the goal of having fewer wrinkles appearing later and avoiding skin cancer, of course. Age aside, though, that scar was so unique to her that there was no way it could have been anyone else, which either meant that she'd had a moment where she'd been transported to the future, or she needed to see a therapist about some very realistic hallucinations.

It had been a week since that day, and while the pool was finished and the fence was about to be put in around it, she still had no name for her puppy because she'd been unable to focus on anything other than this vision and had hardly slept at all since it had happened. Unable to put the case and the object out with the trash but also unable to press that damn button again to verify her experience, Violet felt like she had no idea what to do with herself.

Work had been piling up. Meetings went on without her being aware of what they'd discussed. Her assistant had been moving things around for her when she needed to take a longer lunch or go home early. Even though it had only been five working days so far, people were starting to notice because it was so unlike Violet to not be totally present at work. After all, she had nothing else in her life to be present for. Sure, she had a dog now, but she also had a dog walker walking him twice per day. Then, she'd get home around six, take him out and let him run around the backyard with her standing there close by, and they would play with his new favorite toy before they'd eat dinner together.

"I'm going to take off. You should get out of here, too," she said to Courtney as she exited her office with her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Oh, okay." Courtney looked at her computer screen, and Violet knew what she was doing.

Her assistant was checking the clock because it was just now five, and Violet typically stayed until at least five-thirty or six.

"Puppy?" Courtney asked. "Does he have a name yet? You can't keep calling him ‘puppy.'"

"I don't. I'm still calling him Little Guy," she replied. "So, no."

"He won't be little for much longer. You got a big dog. Pretty soon, he'll be Big Guy."

"He'll have a name before then," she replied. "And get out of here. I'm sure you have plans you need to get ready for."

"You said you didn't want to know about my plans," Courtney tossed back. "And they're good plans, too."

"Well, enjoy them," she replied. Then, hearing a door open, she looked up and saw someone shaking hands with her boss, who was in the C-suite. "New vendor?" she asked, knowing they'd been searching for some new software to make things more efficient for the department.

"No, he had an interview," Courtney explained. "I had to book it since his assistant has been out on vacation this week. Potential VP of finance. He's been interviewing people all week."

"Oh."

Then, the woman who had just shaken her boss' hand turned, and Violet stumbled backward a bit.

"Violet? Are you okay?" her assistant asked.

Violet was definitely not okay. There was now sweat on her forehead, and she needed to lean against something, so she found the door she'd just closed and rested her body there as she swallowed.

"Violet?"

"I'm fine. It's… okay," she lied. "Go home, Courtney. Have a good weekend."

Without turning around, Violet grabbed the doorknob, pushed her office door open, and disappeared inside there, closing the door behind her .

The woman she'd just seen was unmistakably a younger version of the woman who had held her hand in that vision.

"Rachel Bailey-Armstrong," she muttered to herself. "No, just Rachel Bailey."

Rachel, if Violet was right about this woman being her, looked younger than her. She was maybe thirty years old, but possibly even younger than that, and was, apparently, interviewing at the company where Violet worked as the SVP of operations. Violet more flopped than sat down on her sofa and dropped her bag down beside her. Then, she heard a knock at the door.

"Um… Sure," she said because she couldn't think of any other words.

"Mark is out here," Courtney told her after opening the door. "And did you just say, ‘Sure?'"

"Why?"

"Because that's a weird thing to say to someone who's knocking on your door."

"Why is Mark out there?"

"Oh, he wants to talk to you."

"Okay," she said.

Her assistant pushed the door open a little more, and Mark, her boss, walked into her office.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "She told me you might be coming down with something."

"I'm okay. Just a little tired, I think. Needed a second," she lied as Mark walked in after closing the door.

"All right, then. Hey, do you have time on Monday to talk to someone for me? VP of finance candidate. I'd like you to approve the one I'm thinking about getting an offer out to."

Violet swallowed and asked, "That guy you talked to on Wednesday?"

"No, the woman I just met with. She interviewed for your role, actually, before we hired you, but she didn't have as much experience as you did. She was good, though, and is more experienced in finance than strictly operations, so we called her to see if she was still looking and would be interested. She's probably getting her parking validated now. Anyway, everyone's liked her so far, so I'm thinking that if you do, too, since you'll be working so closely together, we'll get her an offer."

"Oh," she managed out. "Yeah. Whatever you need. I can free up some time on Monday," she added, thinking she'd go full-on crazy before then, so it really didn't matter.

"Great. I'll get it taken care of. And get some rest this weekend. You look pale, Violet. Do you need me to have someone drive you home?"

"No, I'm okay," she replied and stood quickly before she grabbed her bag off the floor, trying to prove her point. "Just ready for the weekend. I have a puppy waiting for me to take him for a walk and feed him more food than should be able to fit into his tiny body."

Mark laughed, opened the door, and let her walk out first before he closed it behind him. When they said their goodbyes, Violet headed to the elevator bank. After pressing the button to go down to the first floor, she stood and took a deep breath, trying not to think about the fact that she'd just seen this woman a week ago, possibly in the future, where they were married and maybe those adult twin girls were her and Rachel's twin girls, and now, this Rachel was interviewing for a position in her company. Violet turned her head when someone approached to stand next to her.

"Hi," Rachel said to her, offering a tight smile.

"Hi," she said because she couldn't say anything else.

"Heading out?"

"Yes."

"Me too," Rachel told her. "I remember you, you know? You might not remember me, though."

"You–" Violet paused, her thoughts rushing.

Had Rachel gotten a device, too? Had she seen the future where they were married?

"Remember me from what , exactly?" she asked when she was able to gather herself a little bit.

"The day we both interviewed. We were back-to-back because of some scheduling snafu. We waited outside Mark's office."

Violet tried to think back to the day of her interviews for this job. It had been a long day. Four hours of straight interviews, and that had been after three remote interviews. She had been in a chair outside of Mark's office while she'd waited on him to wrap up a meeting, and yes, a woman had been sitting next to her. As she took Rachel in, she could now recall.

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "Sorry. I remember you now. That day was kind of a blur for me, to be honest. I was really nervous."

"Well, you didn't need to be. Seems like you got it," Rachel said, and there was a bite or something else in her tone that Violet couldn't identify.

"I did, yes," she said.

The elevator doors opened, and they both got inside. Rachel stood on one side. Violet stood on the other. But the buttons were on Rachel's side.

"Can you press L for me, please?" she requested.

"Sure," Rachel said and pressed L and no other button, meaning they were both heading to the lobby and had at least another forty-five seconds of awkwardness to fill.

"So, you're interviewing here again?"

"I am," Rachel replied. "VP of finance."

"That role has been open for a while. We need someone pretty desperately."

"I guess that's why Mark called me and asked me to interview," Rachel said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah," Violet offered and looked down at the floor.

"I'm just glad that he called," Rachel continued. "I've wanted to work here for a while now. I guess that's obvious; I interviewed here for your job over a year ago."

"It's a great place," Violet shared.

"So, do you and Mark go way back?"

"Mark?" she looked up at Rachel in confusion. "No, we met in person that day. I suppose we met virtually for my interview before the final interview in person. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Rachel told her. "Just thought maybe you two had known one another a little longer than that."

"No, we didn't." Violet tilted her head before adding, "But I'm guessing there's a reason you're really asking that you're not telling me right now."

"Nope." Rachel shook her head, and as soon as the doors opened, she stepped out of the elevator. "Have a good weekend. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You will, actually," Violet said as she got out of the elevator herself. "Monday. For your final interview."

Rachel's eyes widened then, and she looked a little concerned.