Page 56 of Song of Lorelei

She shook her head, eyebrows lifting as she scrolled.

“You sure you want to be reading messages from strangers right now?” His stomach clenched thinking about what terrible things random folks on the internet might say.

“It’s quite sweet actually,” she said, smiling a little to herself, cheeks getting rosy. “A woman from my home state wrote to say that she took the virtual tour of the museum—guess they put one up on the website. She says it’s fascinating and that she learned a lot just from looking around online and wants to make the trip out to see it in person. Then there’s some stuff about making history and that she’s proud that a fellow Michiganian built the first real naturalist exhibit for merfolk.”

That did sound nice. He watched Lorelei type a response.

“She seems a bit nervous though,” she continued. “She’s asking if the coastline is safe. She’s read Jackie’s articles about Lila’s work, and knows about all that, but seems to need more reassurance.”

Once Lorelei finished drafting, she showed him the original message, and the assurances she sent about safety. He scrolled.

Annaliese Kruetz. That was the woman’s name.

But no profile picture. And though it was a premium account, the profile looked barely used. There was a university listed with a graduation date but little else.

Odd.

It was almost as if this person had made the account just to talk to Lorelei.

Every protective nerve in his body was on high alert, but he kept his unease to himself. If the original message hadn’t been so kind and complimentary, he would’ve recommended she block the sender, because the rest of it looked suspicious.

But perhaps their interactions in town soured his view of humanity.

Was it really that unreasonable to think that someone might create an account just to say something nice to a person whose work they admired? From an outsider’s perspective, the job networking platform was genuinely the only way to get a hold of Lorelei professionally. She’d lost her museum work email right along with her job.

After all her hard work—the long hours, the sleepless nights—only to have her pride and joy yanked out from under her, Lorelei deserved all the praise and credit only an overenthusiastic fan could give.

Chapter Thirty-One

LORELEI

After donning a thick knitted sweater, Lorelei stepped out into the chilly, early October air, a cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other, and a smile on her face. It was nearly noon, but she still wore her pajama pants, fuzzy slippers, and a messy over-the-shoulder braid from yesterday. Comfy was her usual attire these days.

Plopping down in the rocking chair she bought for the express purpose of outside reading, she thumbed open the book. Slow lazy days were heaven. While she missed her museum, not having to work fourteen-hour days was heavenly.

She’d begin looking for a new job eventually, but she had more than earned this time off, and she was going to enjoy it. Besides, she wasn’t sure anyone local would hire her just yet.

People in town whispered about the shore-bound mermaid by the sea.

Jackie’s exposé released days after she was fired. She was named, but not outed. Phil, however, issued his rebuttals and had no problem doing so. All her social media accounts were set to private, and she ignored phone calls from numbers she didn’t recognize, but there weren’t as many as she feared.

As for the news itself, she ignored it—ignorance is bliss, after all. Katrina monitored it for her, only sharing highlights and “need-to-knows” like legal steps taken toward prosecution against HCMRC leadership.

Katrina’s assessment of her media situation was heartening.

Most of the world thought Director Phil Simmons lost it, especially considering the hard proof cited in Jackie’s article of the unethical research practices his leadership fostered, but the residents of the rural, coastal town Haven Cove were superstitious by nature. They grew up too close to the sea, its foggy, murky waters, spooky maritime stories, and Stephen King books not to be.

The scientific community was properly outraged, which Lorelei and Lila both felt vindicated by.

Home life remained quiet. But only because the newly constructed gated driveway and privacy fencing around the seaside cottage kept out the busy bodies. Turns out the world perceiving, or at least suspecting what she was, wasn’t the hugely horrible thing she built it up to be. People might give her weird looks, or attempt to infringe upon her privacy, but there were ways to block it out.

Like being a hermit.

People would eventually forget about her…Lorelei shrugged off the thought and rocked the chair back and forth, finding her escape in the book she held.

An hour passed, maybe more, and the sun dipped behind a cluster of clouds.

Sloshing down by the shoreline ripped Lorelei’s attention from her reading. It wasn’t the sound the tide made when it came rushing it, rather movement through the water. She had a visitor.

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