9. Savannah #2
A woman near the front frowned.
“What kind of emergency?”
Ellie did not hesitate.
“Turtle government.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
Of course.
“The mayor?” someone asked.
Ellie pointed toward the marina.
“Classified.”
The absurdity worked.
People laughed.
The attention loosened for one precious second.
Ellie jumped down, caught my hand, and pulled me through a narrow gap between two stalls.
“Move.”
I moved.
We slipped behind the soap tent, crossed an alley, and emerged beside a bait shop where no one appeared interested in anything except shrimp.
Ellie did not let go of my hand.
Not yet.
We walked quickly toward Reef Rascal.
Behind us, voices called my name, but they were fading.
My phone began vibrating inside my bag.
Then ringing.
Then vibrating again.
Rachel.
Sophie.
Possibly every person who had ever warned me not to rely on a golf hat for security.
We turned a corner.
Ellie released my hand.
The loss was immediate.
“You okay?” she asked.
It was the same question she had asked underwater.
The circumstances were less peaceful.
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“No.”
I pulled out my phone.
Twelve messages.
Four missed calls.
One entertainment alert.
Ten minutes earlier, no one knew where I was.
The internet was efficient.
The alert showed a photograph taken from across the market.
The image was blurry, but it was me.
Ellie stood beside me.
Our bracelets were visible.
The headline read:
SAVANNAH brOOKS SPOTTED IN FLORIDA KEYS WITH MYSTERY WOMAN
I locked the screen.
Too late.
Ellie had seen it.
“Mystery woman,” she said.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve never been mysterious before.”
“Ellie.”
“Mostly damp. Occasionally sunburned. Mystery is new.”
The joke was there.
But the warmth beneath it was gone.
My phone rang again.
Rachel.
This time, I answered.
“Hi.”
“Where are you?”
“Walking to Reef Rascal.”
“Who is Ellie Parker?”
I stopped.
Ellie did too.
“How do you know her name?”
Rachel’s silence suggested that was not the correct question.
“Sophie identified the dive shop in the background of yesterday’s photograph. Ellie’s name is on the website. There are already posts comparing the bracelet in today’s picture to the one you’re wearing.”
I looked down at my wrist.
Ten dollars.
Two bracelets.
One afternoon.
Now evidence.
“Is anyone on the island?” I asked.
“Not yet. That will change.”
Ellie crossed her arms.
She could not hear Rachel’s words, but she understood the shape of them.
“I can have a car at the cottage in forty minutes,” Rachel continued. “There’s a charter ready in Key West.”
“No.”
“Savannah.”
“I’m not leaving in forty minutes.”
“You’ve been identified. Ellie has been identified. If you stay, photographers will arrive.”
“I said no.”
Rachel went quiet.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer.
“Does Ellie know?”
I looked at her.
She stood several feet away now.
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“No.”
“Then you need to decide what you’re doing before someone else decides for you.”
I hated when Rachel was right.
She was right too often.
“Give me an hour.”
“I can give you thirty minutes.”
“One hour.”
“Forty-five.”
“Rachel.”
“Fine. One hour. Then I’m calling again, and you are answering.”
She ended the call.
I lowered the phone.
Ellie waited.
There was still glitter in her hair from the mermaid party.
A yellow thread circled her wrist.
She looked exactly like the woman I had woken beside that morning.
I had no idea how to explain why I now felt like a stranger standing in front of her.
“Rachel wants me to leave.”
“Of course she does.”
“I told her no.”
“For how long?”
“One hour.”
Ellie nodded.
“Generous.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Right.”
We reached Reef Rascal.
Captain Pancake slept beneath the counter.
Hank stood beside the register, peeling the silver star from his shirt.
He looked from Ellie to me.
Then at my phone.
“Trouble?”
“Yes,” Ellie said.
“No,” I said at the same time.
Hank considered us.
“Resolved?”
Neither of us answered.
He nodded toward the back.
“Office is empty.”
The office was the size of a closet and contained a metal desk, three mismatched chairs, a filing cabinet, and a framed photograph of Hank holding a fish he claimed had insulted him.
Ellie entered first.
I followed.
Hank closed the door behind us.
The noise from outside disappeared.
So did the crowd.
So did Savannah’s smile.
For one moment, I stood there without knowing what to do with my own face.
Ellie leaned against the desk.
“Annie Miller?”
“My real name.”
“And Savannah Brooks?”
“My stage name.”
She nodded, filing it away.
“Rachel Donovan is your manager.”
“Yes.”
“Sophie Grant is your publicist.”
“Yes.”
“You sing the songs you kept pretending you’d only heard a few times.”
“Yes.”
“And when you said you were successful…”
“I was trying to tell you something true.”
“Without telling me the truth.”
There it was.
I looked down.
“Yes.”
Ellie exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t Google you.”
“I know.”
“You asked me not to, and I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“I could have.”
“I know.”
“Please stop saying that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Try the part you left out.”
The room felt too small.
The filing cabinet.
The fish photograph.
The smell of sunscreen and old paperwork.
I wanted to reach for her.
I didn’t.
“I came here because I needed somewhere no one knew me,” I said.
“And then you didn’t.”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“What was?”
“Be alone. Rest. Leave.”
“And me?”
“You weren’t in the plan.”
Her face closed slightly.
“That came out wrong.”
“It came out honest.”
I stepped closer.
Ellie did not move away, but she did not meet me either.
“You were the first person in years who didn’t already have an opinion about me,” I said.
“So you made sure I couldn’t form an informed one?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I wanted a few days where I could be Annie.”
“You are Annie.”
“Yes.”
“You’re also Savannah.”
The words landed gently.
That made them harder.
“I didn’t know how to be both here.”
Ellie looked toward the door.
Outside, Captain Pancake barked once.
Probably at nothing.
Possibly at the collapse of my personal life.
“You could have told me,” she said.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That everything would change.”
Her eyes came back to mine.
“Everything changed anyway.”
My phone vibrated again.
Sophie.
A preview lit the screen.
We need to discuss the relationship angle before this becomes a larger story. Do not answer questions. Do not post. Do not—
I turned the phone facedown.
Ellie had already seen enough.
“Relationship angle,” she said.
“Ignore that.”
“Can I?”
I had no answer.
She pushed away from the desk.
“I need air.”
“Ellie.”
“I’m not leaving.”
The words came quickly.
Then she paused.
“Not yet.”
She opened the office door.
Captain Pancake stood on the other side.
Ellie stepped around him and walked toward the back exit.
He watched her go.
Then he looked at me.
There are few things less helpful during an emotional crisis than a golden retriever who appears disappointed in your choices.
“I know,” I told him.
Captain Pancake sat on my foot.
Outside, Ellie opened the door to the alley.
Bright afternoon light filled the shop.
My phone started ringing again.
Rachel.
One hour had apparently become twenty-three minutes in management time.
I looked toward the back door.
Then at the screen.
For the first time since Jen had said my name, I did not know which version of me was supposed to answer.