Page 22 of Cackle

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s a bad line.”

“No,” I say, “it’s funny.”

“I’m Rose,” she says. “I sell at Bakery on Main as well. Are you from around here?”

“I just moved.”

“Oh,” she says. “Welcome!”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m Annie.”

“Yes,” she says. “Sophie mentioned you.”

“You know Sophie?”

She puts her sunglasses back on. Then she says, “Everyone knows Sophie.”

“I’m supposed to meet her for coffee,” I say.

“She’ll be around here somewhere. Look for the flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“You’ll see,” she says. She smiles, but it’s weak and fleeting. There’s a hint of tension in her face, in her jaw, like she’s clenching her teeth.

“Well, Rose, thank you for the jam,” I say. “I’m excited to try it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she says. “Be sure to tell Sophie I say hello. Tell her I gave you some jam.”

“I will.”

I turn to walk away and almost trip over a little girl in a white dress. Her hair is in intricate braids. She looks up at me, and she’s so cute my body wilts.

“Excuse me,” she says. She’s holding a daisy.

“That’s a pretty flower,” I tell her. “Where’d you get it?”

“Miss Sophie,” she says. She turns around and points, then pivots and skips off past me.

“Convenient,” I say to myself. The universe is leading me to Sophie, leaving me bread crumbs.

I walk down the row of tents and look in both directions.

“Annie!”

Sophie is walking toward me. She’s on a slight hill, and the sun is perched directly above her, like it’s her own personal sun. She’s wearing another long black dress. This one is flowy with dramatic bell sleeves. It’s cinched at her impossibly small waist with a silver chain belt. She carries a bouquet of pale daisies and baby’s breath.

“I’m so happy you came,” she says. “Come, pet. Let’s get you some coffee.”

She takes my hand and begins leading me somewhere. I don’t care where.

“How’s your morning so far?” she asks.

“Good,” I say. “Everyone is really nice here.”

“Ah, yes. That’s because we kill anyone who isn’t nice.” She looks back at me, wearing a smirk like a mink coat. “Don’t worry. It’s very humane.”

“Oh, good,” I say. “I was worried about that.”