Chapter Two
Alban and Alain Wymark operate a law firm in a quaint-looking red brick building in the heart of Pine Ridge’s downtown—which is also its uptown.
They have the ground floor, with big picture windows and gold lettering, but the interior is covered by lots of plants and blinds, I guess so people can’t peek in and see who is getting their will remade or something like that.
Law and Order, this ain’t. June and July don’t have a single court case lined up, just lots of appointments about estates, wills, business contracts, property liens, and that sort of thing.
I basically learn the computer system, take calls, make appointments, and run out to pick up lunch and coffee at The Pine Loft, the coffee shop down the block.
I’m a fancy receptionist. They order lunch and coffee for me, too, and never ask me to chip in.
They say it’s part of the job. That teams who work together, eat together.
Their wives come in and meet me and bring me a potted geranium for my desk, and Alban’s twins stop over after pre-school sometimes.
It’s... peaceful? My first week at work feels too easy, like I’m living in a dream that is going to turn into a nightmare.
Paranoia. It’s the medicine. It’s the disorders plaguing you, eating you alive.
I shudder, and signed copies of probates fall to the floor. I scurry to scoop them up. Can’t lose this job. Think of other things.
My bare apartment. It’s clean and neat, but it feels like my place. With my money, I ordered a table I wanted, a couch, a coffee table, and a bed. They all got delivered this week. My bank balance is a lot smaller, but I look around and feel... free.
My dad and June have a really rustic, down-on-the-ranch vibe in their house, and my mom and Arnie keep their house looking like the set of an 80’s sitcom.
My style is fancy, in one word. Little pencil skirts and classic pumps, white blouses with lacy sleeves, and pinstripe vests that make me look like a cross between Victorian steampunk and a banker.
When I used to sketch out my office or my apartment, it was wall-to-wall curlicues and gilt, things that remind you of elegance and the times when women had to wear hats and gloves to leave the house.
“Hey, hey. It’s time for Friday night wings at The River House. You wanna come?” Alban is at my elbow.
I try not to scream like a banshee and fumble out an excuse. “My shirt. Wings and white? Bad combo.”
“Want to run home and change? You live like two blocks from The River House. Ramona and Harper will meet us there if you’re worried it’ll look weird.” Alban looks at me like a hopeful puppy as he peels a sticker off of his tie. “Wonder how long that’s been there?”
There is no way such hot, successful guys should be so nice, too. Okay, Alain is short, but he’s still hot.
Paranoia.
It eats at me. I wish I could say it was getting better, but sometimes I think it’s getting worse.
Home feels safe. Go home and stay home.
Look at the empty walls.
You’ll go crazy. You’ll get worse. They’ll start to close in.
“A-actually, I promised my parents I’d use their housewarming gift money before I talked to them on the phone this weekend,” I say with a sudden flash of relief. It’s true, too. I told June I still hadn’t used their money, and I could feel her “stern” look through the text.
“Oh, fun! Are you gonna try the Night Market tonight? Or Chloe’s Curiosities?”
Something inside perks up, and paranoia shuts off for a minute. “Yes—as soon as you tell me about them.”
THE NIGHT MARKET IS a place I probably wouldn’t go after dark. Oh, not because it’s not safe. You can bet I checked the crime stats of this place before I took the job, and it’s uber Hallmark-worthy.
No, I wouldn’t go to this big open lot full of stalls and carts after dark because it’s dark and shadowy at night, and this is a strange town, and I don’t feel safe in unfamiliar places. However, lately, sometimes I’m just going through my day, and I suddenly feel—good. Okay. Normal.
Anyway, I’m glad it’s summer so I can walk around the town at six o’clock and it still feels like a long, lazy afternoon.
I get a candy apple and some popcorn, look at the goth-y metal jewelry sold by a huge dude in a Metallica hoodie with a cat in the pouch, and buy a pair of way-too-tall heels that remind me I’m not an old lady hiding in my house, peering out of the windows and afraid to go out. Not yet.
Yeah. Look at you, Aggie. It’s an old lady name, but it doesn’t have to be. Back in the day, all the hot Victorian chicks going out to seances and sneaking opium at parties were probably named Agatha, too. I smile at my reflection.
Reflection?
It takes me a minute to realize I’m staring at a huge oval mirror balanced on a ladderback chair and half-swaddled in a quilt.
“Did you want me to unwrap that? It was a recent donation from a family that left town. It’s really not supposed to be out at the stall. It’s more of a showpiece that I’d put in my brick-and-mortar location,” a soft, lilting voice says.
I turn to see a Ren Faire escapee with long white-blonde hair and a gauzy sundress. “Oh?”
“You’re new in town, aren’t you? Student?”
“Um. Paralegal.”
“Oh, for Alban and Alain? That’s awesome! I’m Chloe, I run—”
“Chloe’s Curiosities!” Ahhh. It clicks. And I’m having happy family comedy theme songs starting up in my head. Look at this awesome example of small-town goodness. I was looking for her stall, she knows my boss, my boss was sending me her way... Serendipity.
“You get ten percent off your first purchase!” Chloe hands me a paper coupon with a smile. “We’ll say fifteen because you’re going to make Alban and Alain’s life easier, and that will make Harper and Ramona’s life easier, and they’re my book club gals.”
“Book club?”
Thoughts of wine, cheese, and glossy best sellers with lipstick and heels on the covers entice me. Women have book clubs and careers.
Oh my God. Is this it? Have I arrived?
I mean, it’s not the stop I expected, but I’m here.
“Every Wednesday night at the White Pines Estate. We chip in a few bucks a week, and Claire and Georgia bring the goodies from The Pine Loft.”
“I love The Pine Loft.” It’s true. I do. I’m already addicted to their Cinnamon Streusel coffee.
“Do you like smutty books, too?” Chloe asks with a conspiratorial wink.
“I didn’t get into reading until lately, but I could be persuaded to try something smutty. It would be the first action I’ve had in the past three years,” I whisper back.
“Girl. Same. The good ones are hard to find.”
“Especially if you never leave your house.” I roll my eyes, taking a gentle jab at myself. I actually find it humorous for the moment, and it feels good.
“Or if you’re always at work,” Chloe sighs. “It’s me and Marmalade—my cat.”
“Oooh, I have been wanting a cat for years. I had one up until high school, but she passed away. I couldn’t have taken her with me in the dorms anyway, but...” I trail off. “A cat is on my list.”
It is. I have a list. I have a life. I think I have a new friend.
“Well, lonely, single cat lovers who read smut and suck at dating have to stick together. Twenty percent off. That mirror is yours for thirty.”
Oh, I definitely have a new friend. “I’ll take it!”