Page 1 of The Proximity Factor

“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT to go through with this?” Valeria, or Val, as most everyone calls her, asked while rolling down the passenger-side window of my dad’s old Chevy truck. She stared wide eyed at the cute white cottage with a charming horseshoe-shaped door and bay window.

I inhaled a deep breath and got a whiff of the freshly cut grass and wildflowers lining the cobblestone path leading to the place I would call home for the next twelve weeks. “How could anything go wrong in a place that looks like that?” I grinned over at the girl who’d been my best friend since the fifth grade.

“Uh, have you watched Dateline? All those psycho murderers live in beautiful places.”

I pressed my lips together, unable to argue with that. “Just promise me when Keith Morrison interviews you, you won’t show any of our embarrassing sorority photos. Especially from our junior year. That infamous paint-and-sip night still makes me cringe.” Let’s just say too much alcohol made the claws come out. After our fellow sorority sisters verbally ripped into each other, they decided throwing paint on everyone was a good idea. My blonde hair soaked in every color, and it took weeks to get it back to its shiny, golden state. Val fared better with her gorgeous brown skin and hair, gifts from her Cuban father.

Val evilly grinned. “If you die on me, I’m totally showing those pictures. Please don’t die on me,” she added, nervously glancing at the darling cottage.

“I’m not going to die,” I promised her. “The university totally vetted my roommate and did a thorough background check.” I grabbed the manila envelope between us on the bench seat. It contained a key to the house and the name of my new roomie—Parker Remington. Yep, a man. I hadn’t found out until that morning. My mama was going to have the hissiest of all hissy fits when she found out. When I signed up for this little social experiment being sponsored by my alma mater’s social sciences department, I’d just assumed they would pair me up with another woman. Honestly, I didn’t even think they would choose me.

Val grimaced. “Lanie, psychos know how to work the system. For all we know, this Parker is a fan of Ted Bundy.”

I bit my lip. She had a point. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine. Besides, I really want to take my mama on that anniversary trip to Europe Daddy promised her.” For that, I needed the $15,000 guaranteed to me if I completed the twelve-week experiment. Daddy died at the beginning of the year; God rest his gentle soul. Between his medical bills over the last several years and the funeral expenses, the money my parents had been saving to take that trip was all but gone. And my salary as a PE teacher and cheer coach in the small town of Goldenville, named for the old gold mines, was meager. But living in a town of only 7,001 people had its perks. We were just minutes away from some of the most beautiful waterfalls in the state of Georgia, not to mention we had the finest vineyard and restaurant this side of the Mississippi. I have to say finest because both are owned by Val’s parents. But really, they are amazing. In many ways, Goldenville is idyllic. Just ask anyone over fifty who lives there.

“It’s going to be hard to take her on that trip when you’re dead. Or when she finds out you’re living with a man and has a heart attack,” Val quipped.

“Maybe I won’t tell her,” I said uneasily. I hated lying to Mama. “Parker can be a woman’s name. Besides, Mama will be so busy running the hardware store, she probably won’t have time to come visit.” Our family’s store, Davenport Hardware, is always busiest in the summer.

This little social experiment was taking place near the university in Athens, a good sixty miles south of my hometown. Which meant I would put some serious miles on Daddy’s old truck, driving back and forth three times a week for cheer practice once it started next week. Thankfully, this experiment paid for mileage.

Val laughed. “Good luck trying to keep this from your mama. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to lies. She can sniff one out from two counties away.”

Didn’t I know it. My older brother and I never got away with anything growing up. I rested my head on the steering wheel and groaned. “You’re right. I’m going to send Goldie Davenport to an early grave.” Her real name is Peggy, but Daddy always called her Goldie because when they met many moons ago, he said she looked just like Goldie Hawn. And seeing as we lived in a town named Goldenville, the nickname just stuck. But no matter what you called her, Mama was very old school when it came to these kinds of things. To her, cohabitation meant you were legally and lawfully bound. I had signed a contract with the university. Maybe that would count.

“Lanie,” Val sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I turned my head toward her. “Yessss,” I exaggerated, sounding anything but sure now. Three months ago, when I applied for this experiment along with thousands of other applicants, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. Back when I thought I would be living with a stranger of the female variety and all I’d have to do was make a weekly video diary, answer all their questionnaires, and then go through an extensive interview process at the end. Honestly, I hadn’t thought the research team would choose me. It all sounded too good to be true, but everything had checked out, even the $1,000 advance they gave me for signing on.

She scrunched her cute button nose. “Are you sure you’re not doing this because a certain someone is getting married this summer?”

I sat up and cleared my throat. “I don’t care that what’s-his-name is getting married.” His name is Greg, by the way. Dr. Greg Pearson, to be exact. My ex-boyfriend. The man who thought I was too dumb to be his wife. He didn’t exactly use those words—it was something more along the lines that he needed a woman with more substance and not just eye candy. I had never been so humiliated in my life. For my value to be reduced to just my looks was a low blow, especially from a man who said he loved me, and with whom I’d discussed marriage. Believe me, I knew I was no rocket scientist. And I admit to having more fun in college than studying, but it wasn’t like I was a dolt. Except for choosing to date Greg.

So, maybe I was a little glad about the distance between us.

Mama told me someone his age who had never been married was a red flag the size of a jumbotron, but I wouldn’t listen. There was something about dating an older man. By older, I mean a ten-year age difference—he was thirty-six when we met. That was two years ago. Never again. Even if it was nice to date someone who was more settled in life, from here on out I was sticking to men closer to my age.

But honestly, I was over him. Not to say I didn’t still cry about the breakup in private. But that was only because of the humiliation of it all. He had made me question my entire identity.

Val reached over and tugged on my ponytail. “He’s a jerk. I hope he and Meribeth choke on their wedding cake.” Meribeth was one of the nurses in his practice. Apparently, she was smart enough for him. She seemed nice enough, but we had to hate her on principle.

I got a dreamy look in my eye, thinking of them choking on their wedding cake. “I just wish he weren’t the doctor for the football team.” It meant I would have to see him every Friday night during the fall, and maybe into December if we made it to the playoffs.

“I’m willing to pay some kid to tackle him on the sidelines,” Val cackled.

I giggled. “This is why I love you. Should we go in and see what awaits me?”

Val let out a huge breath, making her curtain bangs take flight. She was the Latin version of Farrah Fawcett—the perfect mix of southern belle and Cuban goddess. That’s exactly how her husband, Daniel, described her. “I don’t like this, Lanie,” she warned. “We don’t even know what this experiment is for.”

“Well, that would skew the results if I knew.” At least that’s what the research team said when I asked. All I knew was they had some corporate sponsor for the thing that was obviously willing to fork out some serious cash. They wouldn’t say which corporation. So maybe I was a dolt. But I would be a dolt touring Europe with Mama during Christmas break if this all worked out. That was, if I didn’t become a Dateline victim. I shuddered.

Val noticed. “You don’t have to do this.”

I looked past her and stared at the cute white cottage. It was just the kind of place I had always dreamed of raising a family in. It screamed me. Even if right now I was hoping to do something that wasn’t like myself. I knew what everyone back home thought of Lanie Jane Davenport. They all saw me as the typical perky former head cheerleader and hometown girl who did all the pageants growing up. I used to love being known as the hometown girl, but Greg had made me doubt myself. Did everyone else just see me as a ditzy blonde with no substance like he did? That I couldn’t make it outside the city limits of Goldenville? He said maybe if I’d put more effort into memorizing the periodic table than every Taylor Swift song in existence, he could be with someone like me. I still wasn’t sure what knowing every element known to man had to do with anything. Besides, knowing every Taylor Swift song meant I was a fun girl to take on road trips. But maybe it was time to be more than fun. Maybe this was my chance to make a real difference to humanity. For all I knew, this research was going to change lives.

“Actually, I think I do have to do this,” I whispered.

“Lanie, if this is about what Greg said to you, don’t listen to him. You’re the most amazing person I know. Don’t tell my husband that, because he thinks he’s the most amazing person I know, but he’s wrong.” She laughed. “But seriously. Look at everything you’ve done for your mama and daddy. Not to mention you’re like Dear Abby for every teen girl at the high school. You’ve prevented a lot of heartache for those girls. And let’s not forget, you are the queen of fundraisers. Thanks to you, Goldenville has a new library and the statue in town square of all those miners who founded our beloved town.”

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