"When Meredith mentioned retirement last month, I nearly passed out trying to keep my poker face intact. Twenty years I've been there, watching that place grow from a dusty little corner shop to what it is now. I've put my heart into every display, every recommendation, every book club."
Paige nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "You'd be amazing as the owner, Elyse. Everyone knows it."
"But to be honest, lately..." I hesitated, tapping my fingernails against the glass. "I've been consumed by an overpowering need for something more in my life. And instead of focusing on the things that I don't have..." I gestured vaguely with my hands, encompassing all the invisible lacks in my life: children, career advancement, perhaps even purpose, "...I decided it was time for me to look for something that made me feel good. Made me feel like I was being helpful. Making a difference."
Paige leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "And taking pictures of cheating husbands does that for you?"
I huffed out a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. "It's more than that." How could I explain that each photo felt like justice, like putting one tiny thing right in a world where so much was wrong? "Every day at the store, I smile and nod while women—usually women who've spent their entire lives taking care of everyone else—ask me for an escape. For just a few hours away from their reality."
"Beach reads," Paige supplied.
"Yes. And lately, every time a customer comes in asking for a good book to take to the beach, or walks up to the counter holding a book with a bright blue cover with palm trees all over it, I just can't help but groan silently and think, 'Not another beach read.'"
I surprised myself with the sudden vehemence in my voice. I hadn't realized how much it had been building up inside me.
"Because?" Paige prompted gently.
"Because those books are selling a fantasy that's ruiningthese women's faith in humanity, Paige. The handsome husband who turns out to be loving and faithful, even after some silly misunderstanding? The career woman who gives it all up for love and never regrets it for a second?" I shook my head. "Other than a select few, they don't exist. Meanwhile, their real-life husbands are at Frenchy's with someone half their age while these women are reading about fictional men who would never do that to them."
I took a long drink of tea, suddenly parched.
"I'm tired of selling women fiction when I could be giving them the truth. When I take those pictures, I'm doing something real. I'm saving a woman years—maybe decades—of living a lie."
"Like someone could have done for you," Paige said quietly.
The words landed like a slap, though I knew she hadn't meant them that way. Frank's betrayal was ancient history, but the scar tissue still pulled tight sometimes.
"Maybe," I admitted. "Though I was lucky—Frank wasn't exactly subtle with his little side family. But some of these guys..." I whistled low. "Academy Award-worthy performances, every day for years. You should see how fast they crumble when confronted with evidence."
Paige reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I get it, I do. But is it worth putting your safety at risk? Worth making Drew sick with worry? I'm not judging, I'm just playing devil's advocate."
I sighed, feeling the familiar twist of guilt in my abdomen. "It's the only time I feel like I'm not just... existing. Not just selling people the same ten beach reads with different covers. Not just waiting for Meredith to retire. Not just killing time during Drew's business trips."
"And if one of them recognizes you anyway? If they follow you home? Not every betrayed husband just packs up and leaves like Frank did."
I straightened my shoulders, finding my resolve again. "I'm careful, Paige. I stay in public places. I vary my disguises. I never confront them myself. It's not nearly as dangerous as Drew thinks it is."
The thought had occurred to me, of course it had. But the possibility seemed remote compared to the certainty of how alive I felt while I was on the hunt.
"Then I'll deal with it," I said with more confidence than I felt. "But I can't go back to just... watching life happen from behind the counter at Back in the Day Books. I need this."
Our food arrived then, saving me from Paige's concerned gaze. As I picked up my sandwich, I couldn't help but wonder if she were right—if I was risking too much for this feeling of purpose. But then I remembered the mother of four whose husband had been stealing their grocery money to wine and dine his girlfriend, and how she'd cried with relief when she finally understood why their bank account was always empty.
Beach reads could wait. Real life couldn't.
5
ELYSE
Itypically spoke with my parents on Sunday nights, so when my father's number popped up on my caller ID on a Tuesday afternoon, my heart rate sped up instantly. Having a close family member in active addiction means that any phone call could bring the worst of news. That one was no exception. It came through in my father's "this is urgent" voice.
"Your sister is missing."
This was nothing new, but my heart rate hadn't gotten the memo. It drummed against my ribcage, insistent that I hang up immediately. If I didn't hear the rest, I could just pretend everything was fine for a little while. Instead, I pressed the phone more firmly to my face as my mind worked out what to say.
"Did you hear what I said?" This time his tone was gentler, his question more rhetorical to spur a response.
I took a deep breath in an attempt to relax my throat. The first thing to lock up in tense situations is always my vocal cords, something my parents were well aware of.
