Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cece had three tabs open on her laptop and a legal pad on the desk next to her. She kept shifting her attention between them like she was afraid something important might happen if she looked away too long.
It was impossible not to be excited that her podcast was finally live.
That’s what the first tab was for. On it, she had the hosting platform for the podcast open. She refreshed it again to see if there was any new activity. She took a quick look, then forced herself to get back to work.
The numbers would be there whether she stared at them or not. Still, it was hard not to look. The first episode was actually live. Not just an idea, not waiting on some final tweak before she declared it perfect, but live.
People were listening. Joe had called to congratulate her early this morning, and the Queen Bees had been so supportive.
Regardless of what happened next, she’d done what she set out to do.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t hoping the podcast turned into a smash hit. That would be amazing, and even though she knew it wasn’t realistic, it was fun to think about.
She hadn’t really known what to expect with this first episode.
Ten downloads, maybe twenty if she was being generous—but the numbers were already higher than that.
Nothing viral. Nothing headline-worthy. But solid out-of-the-gate numbers.
Enough to tell her that the podcast hadn’t vanished into the void.
Cece smiled, then clicked over to the second tab.
Joe’s interview sat there in pieces, waveforms stretched neatly across the screen.
She’d cleaned up the audio, smoothed out the levels, and flagged a few spots she wanted to adjust further.
His voice came through warm and steady, the way it always was.
Listening to it now, she was struck again by how easy the conversation had been.
He’d been so honest and open. His answers had been thoughtful.
Not once had he come off as though he had an ounce of ego. She sighed. He was an easy man to fall for, and she knew that was exactly what she was doing.
Or rather, had done. She liked him so much that it was a little frightening.
She shook her head. She had work to do. She could moon over Joe later. She made a note on the pad. Trim opening anecdote slightly. Leave a pause before the music.
The third tab was the one she kept avoiding.
The Buzz interview with a certain troublemaker. Darcy Lane.
Darcy’s words stared back at Cece from the document like they were daring her to change them. But Cece wouldn’t do that. She never put words into people’s mouths. She only reported what they’d actually said.
What happened after that wasn’t up to her.
Cece exhaled slowly before reaching for her water. The interview itself hadn’t been explosive in any obvious way. Darcy hadn’t said anything overtly critical or super dramatic. There had been no confession of anything, no outright claim.
But that was almost worse. The weight of the interview lay in what Darcy had chosen to emphasize. Not to mention the questions she’d skirted around with what seemed like practiced ease.
She’d talked about fresh starts, reinvention, and finding the right people to align with. She’d also talked a lot about community. About women supporting women. About creating spaces where people could feel seen.
All the right kind of nonsense buzzwords that would, in Cece’s opinion, only attract more people to whatever it was Darcy was up to.
Cece didn’t like that thought at all. She’d done her best during the interview to remain neutral. She had nodded at the appropriate moments and asked the kinds of follow-up questions that sounded benign but could lead to revealing answers.
Unfortunately, Darcy had responded exactly the way someone with something to hide often did—by sounding reasonable and giving answers just vague enough not to expose anything. And then, of course, there was Gigi, who’d derailed the conversation several times.
Cece tapped her pen against the legal pad and reread one particular answer. It was innocuous on its own. Taken with the rest of the interview, however, it felt calculated.
This is where my work is, she thought. Not in catching Darcy out on a single response, but in how Cece framed the entire thing. How she decided which bits were important enough to see print and which weren’t.
She didn’t want to give Darcy free publicity.
Cece wasn’t going to make her look like something she wasn’t, either.
The Buzz was a community newsletter, not an investigative piece, and Cece had to respect that.
But she also believed words mattered. And she had a responsibility to the readers to tell the truth, no matter if it was on her podcast or through The Buzz.
Truth was everything.
She closed the document for a moment and went back to the podcast stats, letting herself enjoy the small thrill of seeing the numbers tick upward again. She nodded. This reminded her why she was doing all of this in the first place.
She wasn’t just looking for validation. She was creating something. A new venue for stories that deserved to be told, not just because she thought so but to give a voice to people in her age bracket.
Cece picked up her mug, realized it was empty, and shook her head. She went into the kitchen, refilled it, checked on Peanut, who was snoozing on the back of the couch, then she came back to the studio with a renewed sense of focus.
One thing at a time.
Finish Joe’s episode. Once that was done, she would give her full attention to editing Darcy’s interview. The finished product would be something honest. Something Cece could be proud of. There was no other alternative.
Cece got to work. An hour later, she listened to the last minute of Joe’s interview one more time, because she liked how it ended. Her final question had been, “What’s the one piece of advice you would give to someone contemplating trying something new?”
His answer had been perfect. “Don’t die with your music still inside you.”
She let a second of silence go by, then added the outro reminding people to share, like, and subscribe if they hadn’t already. The transition worked so well. She saved the file, then leaned back against her chair and let herself feel the small, satisfying click of completion.
She closed the editing software. That was Episode Two done. She’d upload it next and schedule the release date.
She opened her email, more out of habit than anything else. Her inbox loaded, and one subject line immediately caught her attention.
Podcast interview — yes, I’d love to.
Excellent. Cece smiled and opened it. The message was full of enthusiasm from one of the people she’d reached out to early on and assumed might be a long shot, Goldie Schwartz, who was a Holocaust survivor. At the age of eighty-three, she’d decided to try her hand at painting.
Now, ten years in, her work was in galleries across Florida and she’d just been commissioned to paint a portrait of Beechwood’s mayor.
Goldie thanked Cece for thinking of her, said she’d already listened to the first episode, and then suggested a couple of possible dates to do the interview.
Cece made a note on her legal pad, checked her calendar, then sent a quick reply to keep the momentum going. That would be one more episode in the pipeline, and with such an impressive guest. That would be fantastic.
She stared out the window, letting her mind wander. Who else? There were a few names she’d circled but hadn’t yet gotten around to emailing. People with interesting stories who probably didn’t think of themselves as interesting. It was funny how often those made the best stories.
She was halfway through mentally drafting another outreach message when her phone rang.
Paige’s name lit up the screen. Cece answered on the second ring. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Paige didn’t waste time with small talk. “I have a question for you, and I want you to think about it as a journalist, not just as my friend.”
Cece sat up a little straighter. “Okay.” That didn’t sound like a sentence that would lead somewhere good, but she was listening.
Paige let out a breath. “Would you consider interviewing me for your podcast?”
Cece blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected. She hesitated. Paige seemed to take that as Cece needing more info.
“I mean as myself,” Paige said. “Not reinvention tips or skincare or anything about my TikTok, unless you want that. I mean really talking. About my life. My marriage.” She swallowed audibly. “About why it ended.”
Cece’s mouth came open as she suddenly understood what Paige was after. “This has to do with Darcy.”
“Yes,” Paige said without hesitation. “She left a comment on my Luminelle post. Enough to make it clear she’s still trying to intimidate me with what she knows.
Randi saw it, too, and she’s furious. I’m not happy, either.
In fact, I’m tired of waiting to see what Darcy does next.
I want to take her power away from her.”
Cece leaned back, eyes on the ceiling as she realized what Paige was handing her. A real bombshell. “You’re thinking of preempting her.”
“I am,” Paige said. “And not in some vague, defensive way. In a real way. On my terms. If I tell the story openly, there’s nothing left for her to threaten me with.”
“That’s a big step,” Cece said. She didn’t want Paige to regret this later, but she also understood the idea behind it. Frankly, it was a brilliant, brave move.
“I know,” Paige replied. “I’m not taking it lightly. But if I’m going to do it anywhere, I want it to be with someone I trust. Someone who won’t treat it like gossip or make it into more than it is.”
Cece closed her eyes for a moment. This wasn’t just content. This was Paige sharing something sensitive. Something that still gave her pain. “You realize this will get talked about,” she said. “It’s what people do. They’ll listen and they’ll talk. Some of them will judge.”
“I already live with that,” Paige said. “This would just be me telling the truth instead of letting Darcy tell her version of it. And it will take the power away from her.”
“That it will.”
“I’m done with her thinking she has leverage over me,” Paige said. “In fact, I might mention that she’s the reason I’m speaking out now. I wouldn’t mention her by name, just in a vague way. What do you think?”
Cece was quiet again. She thought about the podcast, about the direction she wanted it to take. About honesty, and second acts, and how often women were expected to carry shame that wasn’t theirs.
Finally, she said, “I think I’m happy to give you a venue. And listen, you don’t owe anyone details you don’t want to share.”
“That’s why I came to you,” Paige said. “Because I knew I could trust you.”
Cece exhaled. “All right. Let me know when you want to do it and we’ll make it happen. Whatever it takes.”
Paige’s voice softened. “That’s all I was hoping for. Thank you.”
Cece smiled, even though Paige couldn’t see it. “You didn’t come to the wrong person.”