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Frida was quiet for ten seconds, then twenty, then… “That’s the freakiest, craziest, most amazing idea I’ve ever heard. Tell me more.”
August 27, Tuesday
WHEN I took my extra eggs into Coleman’s grocery to sell, he was arguing with someone in his office. From the hallway I could hear raised voices, then Coleman said, “It’s your own fault. Flaunting yourself. What did you think would happen?”
A woman’s voice sounded, then Coleman said, “I can’t help you anymore. You’re on your own here.”
The door opened and out walked Tilda Benson, who glared at me before stalking by.
Coleman saw me and plastered on a big, fake smile. “Howdy, Josephine. Let’s see what you got today, any double yolks?”
I glanced back at Tilda hurrying away. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, sure,” he said with a smile. “Just a spat between old friends.”
He pulled out his receipt book to write out the amount due to me, then handed it over. But under the receipt book, I recognized an item peeking out that I wouldn’t have noticed before.
A scrying mirror.
“Thanks,” I murmured, then took the receipt. “What an interesting object.” I pulled out the mirror.
“That old thing?” Coleman said, gently taking it from me. “It’s just a knickknack.”
“It’s pretty,” I said. “Did you buy it around here?”
“No. It’s been in my family for years.” He smiled, then set it reverently on a tall shelf. “One of those things you should throw away but can’t.”
I nodded. “Right.”
August 28, Wednesday
MY PHONE rang and Bruce’s name came up on the screen. I connected the call.
“Hi, Bruce.”
“You’re going to love me.”
“I already love you,” I said patiently. “For believing that Curtis had nothing to do with my books.”
“You’re going to love me even more when you hear what I’ve done for you.”
I was wary. “Okay.”
“Based on the first three chapters, I got the buyer for Clifton’s to agree to order three times as many books as she normally would.”
I grinned. “That’s amazing!”
“If you get the book to me by the end of November.”
I stopped grinning. “That might be pushing it.”
“With that kind of incentive, I know you’ll make it happen.”
I swallowed hard. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, Darling. Do. Else people might start believing your boyfriend’s posts that he was the one who wrote the books.” He ended the call.
August 29, Thursday
