Chapter One
“You have arrived.”
I wiped a drop of icy rain from my cheek with my gloved fingers. “I’m sorry?”
“My GPS always says that,” the voice on the other end of my phone explained happily. “And now I can’t stop saying it. It’s like finally even technology sees that I’m destined for great things. You have arrived. It feels good. Try it.”
“No, I will not.” I smiled though. If nothing else, my best friend Freddie Ng knew how to make life interesting. I attempted to pull my pea coat even more tightly around my body without letting the strap of my duffel bag slip off my shoulder. I knew I should’ve worn my parka. Stupid March. Oh sure, spring was just around the corner, but no one could tell you with any certainty where that corner might be, especially not in Otter Lake, New Hampshire.
Most of the year, my small hometown was postcard-perfect. Sparkling lakes in the summer. Rich, colorful trees in the fall. Fluffy snow in the winter. But early spring? Well, there was mud. Lots and lots of cold mud. Nope, there was nothing really fun about this time of year, other than maybe snuggling under a blanket with a hot, hot sheriff waiting for better weather to come.
Yeah, that might be nice.
Too bad mine had dumped me.
“I can barely hear you. Are you outside?”
“Yup, I just got off the bus. I’m standing on the dock praying my mother remembered to tell Red to come and get me.” My eyes darted over the slate-colored lake. Nothing. “So, uh, did you get the—”
“Oh, I got your steaks all right. A bunch of them actually. They’re in the freezer of your mom’s fridge. I’m tired of you always begging for meat at my door.”
“By the sound of your voice, I’m guessing I owe you one?”
“Summer made me pray for the cow’s soul, Erica. For ten minutes we prayed for the cow’s soul. And then we had to do it all over again because there were a bunch of steaks and she couldn’t be sure they were from the same cow.” He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not even sure who we were praying to.”
I sucked in some air through my teeth. Yup, that sounded like Summer Bloom. Vegan. Misplaced flower child. Business woman. Mother. Mine to be exact. She ran a retreat called Earth, Moon, and Stars where women, and sometimes men, could heal their souls with nature, yoga, and psychological slash spiritual teachings. It was where I was headed now, but thankfully the retreat was currently closed for the season.
“It totally ruined the hamburger I had for lunch that day,” Freddie went on. “I mean I still ate it, but it wasn’t the same.”
“Sorry,” I said blinking away the mist droplets freezing to my eyelashes. “I’m thinking I owe you maybe more than one? Two? Maybe three?”
“You don’t owe me anything. Just move home already.”
I sighed. “Freddie—”
“Big things are happening with the business. I need you.”
I sighed again. Louder. Maybe this time it would make an impression.
Last summer Freddie had come up with the idea of starting a company called Otter Lake Security after the town experienced its first murder in about fifty years. He certainly had the start-up capital. His parents were rich in the way most mere mortals couldn’t conceive. But as far as I could tell, all the company really amounted to was Freddie walking Otter Lake’s main street in a ’70s-style state patrol uniform and harassing teenagers for loitering. Yet, despite all this, he thought it was time to take on a new employee. Me.
“I’ll take that noise to mean that you can’t wait to hear all about it,” he said with enough enthusiasm for the both of us. “So, today I’m interviewing personal trainers. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up. I have him making me a smoothie as we speak.”
“What for?”
“Because I’m hungry.”
“Not the shake,” I snapped, making a chipmunk squeak. “Why do you need a personal trainer for the business?”
“Don’t you mean, why do we need a personal trainer for the business? Because we’re fat!” he yelled loud enough that I had to pull the phone back from my ear. “Well, you’re not fat in the big sense, but you have a remarkable lack of muscle tone. Whereas I need to chisel and sculpt and—Do you not remember how many times last visit we were literally chasing a hot lead, and we had to stop to catch our breath?”
“Um.” I screwed up my face as though that might help me remember. “One?”
“God, I hate you sometimes.”
I chuckled. He loved me. Our relationship was like that.
“Anyway, this guy specializes in parkour!”
My brow furrowed again. “Parkour? The building jumping?”
“Yup. Parkour!”
“Why say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re selling it on an infomercial.”
“Because it makes it more exciting,” he replied in his most exaggerated isn’t it obvious? voice. “Parkour! You really don’t know how to enjoy life do you?”
“I’m pretty sure parkour! isn’t something—” I cut myself off, questioning whether or not this was a rabbit hole I really wanted to dive into. “You know what? Never mind.”
“No. You know what?” Freddie asked. “Forget Grady. I’m about to dump you.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“I can only ask you to the dance so many times, Erica. God, this is just like prom.” My mouth opened. I almost took the bait. Back in the day, Freddie had wanted us to go to our big dance dressed like we were trying out for Dancing with the Stars, but when I told him I wouldn’t do it, because, one, we weren’t stars, and two, I didn’t want to glue my outfit on, well, let’s just say our relationship barely survived. Nope, I couldn’t let Freddie go down the prom tangent. I might freeze to death before he was through. Our relationship was like that too.
“The business is real,” Freddie went on. “You wouldn’t believe the phone calls I’ve been getting after we nabbed Otter Lake’s last murderer.”
“No. No. You do not say nabbed,” I said shaking my head and pointing at my chest … all alone in the forest with nobody but the woodland creatures to see. “Not with me. I am not Scooby and you are not Shaggy.”
“You’re right,” Freddie muttered. “Scooby’s more fun.”
I huffed a laugh.
“Anyway I’ve been getting a ton of calls now that spring’s coming, and I—”
“Freddie, I really don’t want to see another dead body in this lifetime. Not one. Every time I come home someone dies. That’s not normal.”
“Not murder calls, silly!” he said. “Security calls. For events and such.”
“What events?” I asked, tipping a bit of thin ice into the water with the tip of my boot. I was doing my part to help spring along.
“Town dances. Community … stuff. Farmer’s markets!”
“Farmer’s markets?” I asked with all sorts of skepticism. “Farmer’s markets need security. Really?”
“Hey, I think you overestimate people’s ability to control themselves, which is hilarious seeing as you’re the one always causing riots at bingo halls,” he said with a chuckle.
“One time. And it was not a riot.”
“Only because I was there to stop it from becoming one,” he said. “But it’s not just security. I’ve been getting all sorts of calls about cheating spouses. That’s where the money’s at.”
I took a deep breath, inhaling air tinged with distant wood smoke. “Freddie you are not a licensed private investigator. I am not a licensed private investigator. Weren’t you the one who said there were all sorts of regulations about that? We can’t just go taking pictures of people doing it in motel rooms. We will go to jail for … for being creepy.”
“Is that the legal term, Ms. Court Reporter?”
“Hey! I know all the classification codes in Chicago. New Hampshire’s weird.”
“Whatever. I’m working on the whole legalities thing. We may have to take someone on who is licensed. I’m just not keen about dealing with another employee. Look at the trouble you cause me,” he said. “But we can still do security.”
“I’m sorry, but every time I think the words, I’m going to be a private investigator, or even a … what? Security guard?” I asked, eyeing the still empty lake through the fog of my breath, “It feels like a joke. It’s ridiculous. It’s too like—”
“Your mother,” Freddie finished. “Man, why didn’t you just become an accountant? That would have shown her how boring you could be.”
“Can we just leave off the whole me working for Otter Lake Security for a while? Please? I’m already in crisis mode with Grady. I need to make tonight perfect.”
“I thought he already dumped you?”
Yes, Grady—sheriff, die-hard local, love of my life from teenage years to present with just a few blips—had technically dumped me.
Over the phone.
Just when things were getting good!
We had spent an absolutely epic Christmas together. The kind of Christmas that certain cable networks modeled Made for TV movies after … and then he went and dumped me! Over the phone! That was a bit of a sticking point for me.
Okay, so fine. I had been kind of dithering on the question of whether or not I was moving home. But in fairness, there were a lot of unanswered questions I still had to figure out. What about my job? I was pretty sure Freddie wasn’t offering dental. I wasn’t even sure he was offering a salary. And what if Grady and I didn’t work out? We had always been a little fiery. What then? Did I still want to live in Otter Lake? And where would I live? With my mother? Could I go back to living in a baconless home? These were real questions that required serious thought.
All that being said, if I were to be completely honest, I think Grady could have hung on while I worked through all these questions … but then there had been the thing that had happened. At the airport. Just as he was leaving …
I shook my head looking at the distant shoreline of hazy trees. “He’s coming over isn’t he?”
“Are you ever going to tell me what exactly went down with you two? Something must have tipped him over the edge.”
“Nope.” I meant it too. I didn’t even want to think about it.
“Come on…”
“No. No way.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me,” Freddie said. “I already know what it all boils down to anyway. I don’t care how many times he filled your Christmas stocking. You—”
“Oh my God!”
“Yeah,” Freddie said, sounding equally disturbed. “I was trying to use a euphemism there so that I wouldn’t have to imagine you two having sex, but it came out way worse. Lesson learned. But my point is that you need to move home like yesterday if you want any chance of keeping Grady in your life.”
“Freddie, I can’t move my entire life for a man!”
“Are you talking about me or Grady now?”
“Grady! And you!” I shouted, sending a nearby bird shooting for the sky. “If I move home, it won’t be because either one of you pressured me into it. It will be because I want me to move home. Not because you men want me to move home!”
“Oh, well,” he said with an implied harrumph. “Fine then, Ms. Julia Child.”
I paused a moment, cocking my head. “Julia Child? You do know Julia Child was a chef, right?”
Freddie paused too. “Are you sure? I thought she was a feminist.”
My voice dropped. “I’m pretty sure. I—you know what? I think this conversation has run its course, don’t you?
“Meh.”
“Thank you for buying me the steaks,” I said once again adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “I really do owe you one.”
“It’s fine. Anytime. And … good luck,” he said. “I hope it does work out for you two. We all want the same thing after all.”
“I’m not sure—” I cut myself off. Again. Rabbit hole. “Sure.”
“Call me later; or tomorrow if things go well, and—” I heard another voice talking to Freddie on the other end. “Mmm smoothie. Got to go.”
I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Well, this trip was off to a stellar start. Maybe I should just turn around and go back to Chicago before—
“No,” I whispered under my breath. “It can’t be.” Again, I blinked my cold, wet eyelashes. Nope. It wasn’t a mirage. There was Red, in the distance, in his pontoon. She hadn’t forgotten! My mom hired Red, a retired electrician whose hair hadn’t seen red in about thirty years, to ferry guests around. He probably would have done it for free. Red liked keeping busy and puttering around on the lake. He was always among the first to have his boat in the water in the spring. But Otter Lake was the kind of place where the value of work was respected, at least by the older generation, and my mother appreciated what he did for her.
A moment later, he pulled up to the dock.
“Red! Hi!” I yelled with an overly eager wave.
“Yup.” He drawled the word, changing it from one syllable into two.
I hurried my way over the slippery wood planks. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Uh huh.”
Red wasn’t a big talker.
“I can’t believe my mother remembered to tell you to come get me.” Granted, I had told her about thirty times and texted her about twenty to do just that, but it was still no guarantee.
“You gonna get in? Or we hunkering down till summer?”
“I’m getting in! I’m getting in.” I took Red’s hand and climbed into the pontoon.
“Colder than a witch’s teat out here.”
“Um … sure is,” I said, not at all sure I knew how cold that was, or if I should really agree with that statement on principle, but given that I was freezing, I didn’t care all that much either.
This was a good sign. Maybe the fates were on my side this trip. Maybe—I cut myself off with a mental groan. Freddie had warned me last visit about tempting the universe with … optimism, I guess. I had dismissed it at the time as superstitious garbage, but then two people were murdered—and while I’m not saying those murders were all about the universe teaching me a lesson, because that’s, well, pretty self-involved, I also couldn’t see the harm in being just a little cautious. Then again, as things were pretty crappy already, how much more could the universe do to me?
And I probably shouldn’t have had that thought either.
I yanked my hat down over my burning cold ears and just held it there as Red fired up the engine. My eyes trailed over the water to the shoreline as the boat puttered forward. Okay, so even in March, Otter Lake was still a little bit pretty, what with all of its nature. Despite the depressing dark slate sky, the trees did have a faint glow about them, almost like they were thinking about doing something springlike, and the soft browns and grays of everything else were kind of soothing … and … and that just made everything worse.
I huddled down farther into my seat and wrapped my arms around my chest. Tonight had to be perfect. I needed to fix what had happened. I needed to convince Grady that I was serious about us. Or at least pursuing the possibility of us. Or at least—Gah! This was exactly what he was always talking about.
“Erica,” Red said turning back from the motor to look at me. “You’re getting to be a regular fixture around here. You moving home?”
“Why is everybody always asking me that?!”
Red’s bushy eyebrows jumped up his forehead.
“I am so sorry,” I said hurriedly. “I … I’m not sure why I said it like that.”
“S’all right. Moose are most dangerous during mating season.”
I cocked my head slightly and squinted my eyes. “Right.”
Oh, I could act like I didn’t know what he was talking about, but he knew that I knew that he knew about Grady and me. Or something like that. Everybody knew everything about everybody else in Otter Lake. It was that kind of place.
But there was no time to dwell on all that. I needed to focus. Last time I had been home Grady had prepared a wonderful dinner for me. Fire pit. Wine. Salmon on a plank. Twinkly lights. And I’d messed it up. Now it was my turn to make a grand romantic gesture. My mother was out of the way—doing some downward dogging in the Grand Canyon—and we would have the retreat all to ourselves. Everything was ready to go. I would convince Grady that we were right together. There was no other alternative. It was time to get back some of that magic we had created at Christmas. In fact, it would take an act of God to—
“There’s that Nor’easter they were talking about on the news.”
I squeezed my eyes shut with my whole face for just a moment.
“They say it could turn into one of those superstorms.” Red pointed at some clouds building in the distance just over the tops of the trees.
“I thought … I thought they said it would miss us.”
“Nah, it’s changed paths,” he said with a scary amount of certainty.
“Come on. Seriously? No way. It doesn’t feel stormy. It’s too cold. Cold as a witch’s teat!” Nope, still sounded weird. “You can’t have a nor’easter when it’s that cold. You need a cold air mass,” I said, pointing a finger in the air, “and warm air mass,” I said, adding another. “And this just feels cold.” At least I thought that was how it worked. I hadn’t exactly gone to school for meteorology. Meteorology? Was that even right? Sounded right. And sounding right was just as good as science in conversations like these.
“It’s coming. You can feel it,” he said, looking at the sky. “The air’s cold, but every now and then you catch a wisp of something warm. Tropical. You could even get a twister with that.”
“Dude.”
He shrugged, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
“The news always exaggerates these things,” I said. “I doubt it will be that bad.”
“I don’t know. They seem to really mean it this time. Hurricane winds. Snow. Rain. Ice. The whole lot,” he said. “Global warming.” He then revved the engine, letting out a big puff of black smoke.
I eyed the monster clouds in the distance. I was pretty sure I saw a face in one of those clouds. A cloud face with fangs. Laughing at me.
Red turned to me again. “You get your mother to check the fuel for the generator. Those underwater cables can go in weather like this. And the electric company won’t be able to fix it anytime soon, I’m guessing. Make sure everyone’s got what they need.”
“It’s just me this weekend,” I said, but Red had already turned back to the wheel. I doubted he could hear me over the wind. “And Grady.”
Suddenly I felt even colder. If this storm was as bad as Red seemed to think it would be, there would be no Christmas re-enactment … which sounded very wrong. Grady was sheriff. And a storm probably meant that he had to—
No, no, no. Tonight was happening.
Red flipped the boat to neutral as the pontoon drifted toward my mom’s dock. Once he had pulled up alongside, he reached for my bag before I could get to it, placing it on the dock.
“Now, I mean it, Erica. You take care.” As he said the words, I thought I felt a small gust of that warm tropical air he had been talking about. “The wind keeps building the way they say it will, the lake will be too dangerous to cross.”
“Thanks, Red,” I said, climbing out of the boat. “I will.”
“And charge your phone just in case.”
“Got it.”
“And you call if you need any help.”
I smiled.
“And stop smiling at me like that.” He furrowed his brow, but the little grin came back to the corner of his mouth. He then flipped me a small salute and shifted the boat into reverse.
Otter Lake was a pretty nice town.
I took a few steps down the dock toward the shore before taking one last look at the clouds churning in the sky. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, there was that eerie feeling of anticipation in the air. That strange excitement that comes with a big storm …
That was totally not going to happen because I had plans!
I clutched my bag to my body and hurried up the steps that led to the lodge.
I had so much to do. Take the steaks out of the freezer. Get some potatoes going. I probably should take Red’s advice and check the propane tanks for the generator.
I crested the top of the hill. There it was. Earth, Moon, and Stars. Nature retreat and spiritual healing facility. Huh, my mom had left some lights on for me in the lodge. That was nice … and totally unlike her. Not that she wasn’t nice. She just hated wasting electricity.
I hurried along the muddy path and up the steps to the wide porch. I reached for the door handle, resuming my list. I also needed to shower, feed my horrible fur-sibling and love of my mother’s life, Caesar, then—
I swung the door open and stopped dead in my tracks.
Yup, I had a lot to do.
Number one?
Get rid of all the people standing in my living room.
Chapter Two
“Who’s she?”
“Who cares?”
“Julie, when can we start taping?”
“Not until Rayner gets here.”
My eyes darted about to each of the speakers who seemed so very comfortable in my childhood home … that was supposed to be empty!
“Um, hello?” I said stepping into the lodge, shutting the door behind me.
Nobody answered.
“Hello?”
Despite what felt like one of my most outrageous facial expressions, the group ignored me completely. In fact, they had already gone back to their conversations.
I lowered my bag carefully to the floor and took a breath.
Something was wrong here.
Aside, from the fact that the retreat was supposed to be closed, these people … well, they weren’t the usual type of visitor Earth, Moon, and Stars attracted.
Three of them sat around the large harvest table where the guests had most of their meals. The unwieldy piece of furniture had been turned and centered in the middle of the common room, like a conference table. Two women with shiny make-up, maybe a mother and daughter, sat on the side closest to the fireplace. They were having what looked to be an in-depth conversation about nails, judging by the way they were holding up their bejeweled hands to one another. On the other side sat a man, early twenties maybe, dressed in some pretty stylish, urban-type clothes, probably from the kind of label that would sell a white T-shirt for hundreds of dollars. Not that his clothes would have normally stood out to me, but while his style looked like it should be carried by some easy-going pop star on the cover of Tiger Beat, this guy … well, he was rocking back and forth with his hands pinned between his knees.
Not really sure how I felt about that.
Away from the group, at a table in the kitchen, was another man. Middle-aged. Average-looking. Kind of sweaty. He sat bent over a stack of papers, clutching at his forehead with one hand, yanking at the tie at his throat with the other.
Okay.
Finally, and perhaps most peculiar, was the woman with a hurried ponytail and hip glasses standing by the windows with a camera guy, baseball cap twisted backward, pointing out different spots in the room. For camera angles, I guess?
“Right,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s try this again.” I cleared my voice loudly. “Um, hello?” I stepped closer to the table. “Have any of you seen my mother? Summer Bloom? She owns this retreat?”
“Could you make me a drink? Martini?”
When my eyes landed on the older of the two women seated at the table, it took everything in me to keep my face completely still. If I had to guess, the woman was in her forties, maybe fifties, but it was really hard to tell given that she had obviously indulged heavily in plastic surgery. The end result was both strangely compelling and repulsive. Like a fish … that was kind of hot. Maybe a fish I kind of wanted to look like … but not. I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to the punch.
“Grey Goose?”
I tilted my head.
“Pinot Grigio? Champs? Come on you have to have Champs?”
“We,” I said cocking my head even farther, “don’t usually keep alcohol on the premises.” Even though I hadn’t lived at home for years, it was impossible for me not to slip back into the role of employee. I was nearly as invested in my mother’s business as she was. Goddess only knew, if she lost the retreat, she might turn her attention even more in my direction.
“I’m sorry, did you say no alcohol? Absolutely nothing?”
Well, there was the extra-large bottle of red wine I had in my bag for Grady and me, but she didn’t need to know about that. I shook my head.
The woman’s eyes widened in shock, but the effect was strange given that her forehead was paralyzed. “Julie, you must have something?”
She was looking at the woman standing by the cameraman, but neither one acknowledged her.
“Julie!”
The cameraman elbowed the woman beside him. She startled and flicked her eyes over. “Sorry, Ronnie. Not today.”
The woman flung herself back against the chair, smacking her head a little. “You’re telling me, I’m stuck in this backwoods shack with no alcohol? I’m going to be sick.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, tight, tight, hoping that when I opened them again, all the people would be gone.
Nope.
“Relax, Mom,” the girl seated beside the sexy amphibious woman said. She looked like she was in her early twenties, which I suppose meant she was a woman and not a girl, but her cute French braids made it hard to think of her as a grown-up. “I think you still have a Xanax in your purse.”
“What were you doing in my purse?”
“Um, looking for Xanax?” The girl laughed loudly at that, making the young man seated across the table jolt and dart a glance behind him … at absolutely nothing.
Okay, this was getting weird.
“That’s not funny, Ashley,” the older woman said, grabbing her purse off the floor. “You need to protect your brand.”
The young woman sighed. “The camera’s not rolling.”
“There are always cameras rolling.”
The perky looking girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind us,” she said getting up and walking over. “Do you own this place? I love it! And you’re so pretty.”
“Oh, well, thank you,” I said, avoiding the urge to take a step back. I found girl-bonding awkward, and girls who liked to bond terrifying, but it was something I was working on. “I … I…” I looked the girl up and down. She was wearing canvas pants with lots of pockets and a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt underneath a faux-fur vest. “I like your outfit?”
“Thanks. I shot this hyena myself,” she said holding out the fur. “You want to feel it.”
So … not faux. Definitely not faux. I felt my eyes widen as I took a step back without even realizing it. “Maybe later?”
“Sure!” she said with a happy shrug, then walked away revealing a bedazzled cross on the back of her hyena vest.
I backed farther away, whispering under my breath, “What the…”
“Brody was here first.”
I jumped. I had forgotten about the rumpled looking man sitting at the small table in the kitchen until I had almost backed into him. His eyes quickly shot over to the main room before landing back on his papers. So I guess that meant the twitchy young guy was Brody? I thought about asking him, but the timing didn’t seem right. Maybe it was the way he was swatting at his expensive-looking hair like he was being swarmed by … something. Hmm, it had been a while since I’d seen frosted tips. And his highlights were really frosted. More blue than blond.
“We’ve rented this lodge tonight,” the suited man added, shuffling frantically through his stack. “I’ve got the agreement here somewhere. I’m a lawyer.”
“Yeah, you just keep saying that, Chuck,” the fish woman by the fire shouted over. “Maybe someone will believe you.”
“Wait rented?”
The lawyer nodded, still shuffling. “It was all last minute.”
I bit my lip and shook my head. So, they had rented the retreat for the night. Well, that was just …
“Great,” I mumbled. “Fabulous.”
“I spoke to your mother on the phone.” The man—who apparently went by Chuck—smoothed his quite thin hair down over his head. “I was hoping to meet her.”
“So she wasn’t here when you arrived?”
“No, not when—”
“I saw her,” the younger man, Brody, suddenly said, wide eyes focused on nothing.
I took a step toward him, making sure to maintain a safe distance. I mean, he wasn’t very big, but he looked unpredictable. “Do you know where she went?”
“Wait,” he said gripping the armrests of his chair. “She’s gone?”
“Okay.” I reached for my phone, my mind already warring over the priorities of killing my mother and working on a plan B. I swiped my mom’s number first. Maybe there had been some sort of mistake. Unlikely. Or … oh my God! Maybe this was her way of throwing me back into the family business! Maybe—
My thoughts were cut off by the ringing of a cell phone.
The ringing of a cell phone on the kitchen counter.
The ringing of my mother’s phone!
“Of course!” I whipped my phone from my face. Of course she would forget her phone. Actually she probably didn’t forget it at all. She knew she was in trouble. That’s probably why she wasn’t here now. She was waiting for me to calm down before she appeared. I mean, there was no way she would have still gone to Arizona. She would never leave a bunch of guests alone at the lodge without her spiritual guidance. So where was she? Getting last minute suppl—
“Um, excuse me,” a voice suddenly said at my shoulder.
I jumped around.
“Whoa.” The woman with the cameraman flung her hands into the air.
I dialed back the intensity of my, well, face a little and took a breath. “I’m sorry,” I said carefully. “How can I help you?” I tried to raise my angry furrowed eyebrows in polite question, but I don’t think I was very successful given the bemused fear evident in the woman’s expression.
“We were just wondering if this place had any more lamps we could use?” she asked, adjusting her catlike glasses. “Maybe from other rooms?”
It took me a moment to understand the question. My brain felt hot.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I—” I shook my head. “What’s with the camera?”
She chuckled. “Oh, I should have introduced myself. I’m Julie, and this is Kenny,” she said turning to the big man with the camera. “I’m a junior producer with Third Act.”
Third Act. Third Act. How did I know that name? Suddenly it hit me. “You’re not … Third Act. Isn’t that the network that produces that show—” I waved my hand in the air, “—about the fighting women?”
She smiled. “The Real MILF Diaries. That’s us.”
I brought a hand up to rub my temple. Okay. Why not? Let’s make this moment even more surreal. “Why are you here?”
She studied my face, then said, “You really don’t know what’s going on do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Well then, you, my friend, are in for a treat.”
Copyright © 2017 by Auralee Wallace.
Cover illustration © Monika Roe
Author Photo © Andrea Whittle
