Fifty-One
Bay
A week ago, I would have done anything to be back at my apartment.
Now, walking into the silent space, I felt empty.
Even the familiar smells—faint coffee, my favorite wax scent I melted when home, and the laundry detergent I splurged on to wash my sheets and towels with—didn’t comfort me.
Closing the door behind me, I locked it and stood there, gripping the handle on my suitcase as I accepted all that had happened was done. Not to return.
On the flight, I had done my best to keep it together.
I stayed silent. Listened the best I could to Ransom as he told me the story that my friends and my job had been given about my sudden absence.
It was so simple. They all thought my “grandmother” had fallen and injured herself, and I’d had to go stay with her until she was better.
It seemed I had even texted them all, keeping them updated on things.
He then handed me my cell phone, and sure enough, there it was—all my correspondence with work, Belinda and Reggie, even Dan and Lillibeth, who had both messaged me, telling me they hoped my grandmother was doing okay.
Hale had been right; no one had been looking for me.
But I didn’t want to be found anymore.
I was back. It was over. I had work tomorrow. On Friday, I was volunteering at After the Bell. They were excited that I was coming back. Everything was as it should be, except me. I wasn’t the same. I’d returned hollow.
Walking over to my sofa, I sank down onto it and stared at the envelope on the coffee table. It was mail, addressed to me. How had it gotten in here? No one had a key but me. I hadn’t gone to check my mailbox when I arrived. I should have, but I’d not thought about it.
Picking it up, I studied it, turning it over in my hands. It was sealed. There was a postal stamp from Atlanta, Georgia, on it…and the return address said Baskton Marketing Inc. What? Slipping my nail under the sealed flap, I tore it open and slid out the letter inside.
Baskton Marketing Inc.
38251 Baskton St
Building E
Atlanta, GA 30303
June 12, 2026
Bay Fox
319 Hollis Ave., Apt. 9
Washington, DC 20001
Strictly Confidential
Dear Bay,
On behalf of Baskton Marketing Inc., I am absolutely thrilled to offer you the position of content creator manager. We were incredibly impressed by your experience and your creative vision. We believe your skills will be a massive asset as we grow our marketing initiatives.
Please find the details of our employment offer outlined below.
I paused and reread it. How? Where? I’d never spoken to these people or sent them a résumé.
I continued to read the rest. My location didn’t have to change.
I could work from home; they would require me to come to the office twice a month for meetings.
It came with full benefits—health insurance, a 401(k), paid time off.
Turning the paper over, I studied the back and then picked up the envelope again to see when this was mailed. The date stamped on it was yesterday.
But how was it in my apartment? Who had put it here?
I supposed the leasing agency would have a key. In case of emergencies, but why would they bring my mail into my apartment?
I looked back at the letter again. A job in a marketing firm. One that didn’t seem to know about Harland. But how had they found me? I’d stopped sending out applications years ago.
If I hadn’t done it…who had? Did Belinda and Reggie know someone? They had sponsors from some powerful people who helped them keep After the Bell open. It was very possible that they had a contact and told them about me.
I started to reach for my phone and paused.
I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone yet.
I needed time.