“Should I call 911?” she asked at ten times a normal conversational speed. “You never call me, so this must be an emergency.”
“Funny,” I said, smiling against the phone. “I’m letting go of the eighteen fifties, and I miss you, so I had to call immediately. Tell me everything. Then I have news for you too.”
“Hallelujah. Okay. Let’s see. I worked a triple; then I slept like the dead until I hit snooze too many times, woke up late, and ran out the door again. My body is on autopilot. My brain is operating on sheer fatigue and madness. I’m not even sure this conversation is really happening.”
“You sound like an audiobook I pumped up to times four. Is it okay for you to be in the ER like this? Not as a patient?”
She snorted. “Adrenaline will take over when it’s time. Meanwhile, I’m talking fast because there’s so much to say and not enough time. What’s your news?”
“Forever Yours, the anonymous letter writer, wants to meet. Should I go?”
“One hundred percent,” she said confidently. “But don’t go alone in case he’s deranged.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Your turn. What else is going on?”
“I googled your boy Davis last night while looking for his friend Clayton, who is also hot, by the way. Shame on you for gatekeeping.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
“Turns out Davis is a big freaking deal, Emma. Did you know? He lives in a restored home that was featured on the local news last year. He madeArchitectural Digest’s top thirty under thirty a few years ago, won up-and-coming talent of the year while he was still getting his degree, and he was on his college swim team. You have to look that up, because the photographs ...,” she said, slowing her speech to emphasize each syllable of her final word.
“I’ll be sure to ask him about it. Meanwhile, what should I wear to the café tomorrow?”
“Something hot.”
“Helpful. Any chance you’re coming back to Amherst this week? Got time for one more girls’ day out?”
“I might be able to swing that if I trade a shift with someone,” she said. “Let me see what I can do. But if I manage it, we need to visit that pub.”
“Deal.”
“Now listen to this,” she said. “I set an alert to let me know if Davis’s name popped up again, and I got a notification as I was rushing out the door. He’s inArchitectural Digestmagazine again! I think it’s that interview you wrote me about. The photos were taken at the manor!”
“What?” I gasped. “They were just here this morning.” She had to be mistaken. The article was surely from some other time. “What was he wearing?”
“Blue shirt, black pants, a whole lot of sexy all over. Shoot. I’m at the hospital now. Read that article! Immediately. Gotta go.”
I leaned against the tree trunk to catch my breath, thumbs dashing across the screen in search of theArchitectural Digestwebsite. I stilled when a text notification arrived. Annie had sent a message.
Stunned. I hurried to see if she’d gone into labor early.
Annie: I’m half in love with Forever Yours on your behalf
I typed a response at high speed, thrilled she’d gotten my letter on the subject already.
Me: Meeting him tomorrow night
Annie:
Annie: Be careful
I grinned. This was the kind of relationship I’d missed having with my sister. I couldn’t wait to get home and finish mending ours.
Me: How’s my niece or nephew doing?
Annie: So far so good
The sense something wasn’t quite right overcame me again, and I forced my fingers to type.
