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Chapter 3

  • As Marg’s voice filled the room, she picked up the phone and held it. Marg was the sweetest woman on the face of this and any other possible planets and she just happened to be the accountant at Allen’s firm. And she might just be the mother Emma found instead of the one she’d never known.
  • “I don’t know where you are—I’m only happy you’ve finally had the blinders removed.” Her voice lowered, as if she was afraid someone would overhear her. “I’ve hid the bills for your phone and internet and all the toys in the paperwork, you’ve got a few months before I’ll have to come clean with it or someone catches on.” A brief hushed pause made her lift the phone closer to her face. “Text me . . . and I hope your somewhere fabulous and away from that man! I will deposit your last check and a healthy commission bonus in your account. Stay away doll and please try to live a little. I’m always here if you need me.”
  • Emma saved the message and smiled. At least she wasn’t as broke as she had been this morning; things may have moved up a few notches in the financial realm at least.
  • Quickly she deleted the next six messages, all from Allen. That man just wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Setting the phone down, she stared at it for a few seconds before turning around and heading over to her briefcase.
  • Unpacking her laptop and turbo stick, which thanks to Marg was still active, she sat down at the faded wooden table with the objective of deciding what she was going to do from this point on. Marg sending money her way helped to ease some of the ‘oh god I’m going to starve and have to live in a box’ syndrome she had been feeling, but Emma knew she had to find some other way to get by. If she went back to the city, no doubt she could jump right back into the media dance and succeed—the question was did she really want to do that again? The pendulum was swinging towards a negative result at this moment. Surely there was another way.
  • Opening the search her fingers posed over the keys, she typed the first this she could think of. Promotional jobs. That yielded a whole list of what seemed like garbage, afraid she might miss something she started to scroll through them.
  • Scam. She scrolled by it.
  • Scam and yet another scam were the next few sites.
  • The few in numbers that seemed like possibilities she bookmarked to read through later. The next search produced a little more along what she was thinking, online promotional consultants. More bookmarks for later.
  • She caught herself between each screen glancing at the window that faced the lake. Was she really expecting the man to still be there? Shaking her head, she turned her chair and the laptop so it would be more inconvenient to look towards the window. Really, he had just been a hallucination brought on by stress and a traumatic event—for obvious reasons, if he’d been anywhere but an transparent vision he never would have been dressed the way he had been. Emma wasn’t a fashion hound or anything, but even in a pretend scenario she would never put someone in bell bottoms and a fringed brown vest—that just illustrated how desperately she still needed sleep, or valium.
  • Looking back at the screen she made a sound of frustration and closed the laptop. She couldn’t focus on anything right now. Getting up she looked around the cabin. What did one do to fill the time out here? Spare time was not something she’d ever had in the city and now that she did, what did she do with it? She could always go out and see what these flower beds were like she’d agreed to take care of. Gardens, what did she know about gardening? Only that the vegetables and flower bouquets at the store came from some sort of garden.
  • ~
  • An hour later she stood up and looked around at her work. Her jeans were filthy, gloves soaked in what wasn’t quite mud but didn’t she couldn’t describe it as just dirt either, but the three flower beds she had weeded and picked through looked great now. Just one more to do and then she’d stop and go exploring around the area to see what there was.
  • Picking up the basket of little tools, she went over and surveyed the last flowerbed. Emma admitted she didn’t know what any of the flowers were, but they were very pretty. Some were a pale purple that didn’t even look like flowers, more like small bushes while others were tall and orange and kind of resembled a daisy. Named or not, the various heights and color seemed to work perfectly—they all made her think of thanksgiving.
  • Methodically she worked away and realized the dirtier she got the cleaner she felt inside. Fresh air and nature had some awesome powers she admitted. If she were in the city right now she would have been in a meeting or on her way to a meeting, with phone plugged in one ear and pocket planner in her hand, this was much more enjoyable than that.
  • Stopping she studied an odd-looking plant. Weed or flower? She wasn’t sure but it was the only one like it she’d seen in any of the beds so reflex told her weed. Grasping it close to the dirt she pulled and was disappointed when it refused to budge. Standing up she grabbed it again and heaved on it, only to land on her back on the damp lawn. Holding up the offensive plant she grinned. “I win.” Sitting up she started to toss the weed into the pile with the others until she noticed something glinting in the dirty clump of roots. Pulling it out, she raised her eyebrows at her find. It was a ring. How—why would a ring be deep in the flowerbed? Stuffing it into her pocket she went back to the flowerbed. Later she’d ask Mrs. Polson if she had lost a ring here. It had to have been there a long while as far down as it was, but still someone may be missing it.