Page 24 of The Snowball Effect

“Besides, nothing’s written on that precious calendar, so…” She muttered to herself, then placed her mug down on the counter before she headed for the door.

She peered through the peephole, her eyes landing on a woman standing on their doormat. The woman bounced where she stood, and she seemed… nervous? She had a small white bag in her hands and a large tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“Huh.” She hummed to herself, pushing onto her tiptoes as she looked to the left and right of the woman – to her best ability, with the limited view – to ensure she was alone.

Regan had read many horror stories about young women living in apartments, far too many to take no precautions and open the door to a stranger, all willy-nilly.

But it was silent in the hallway, with no hint of another person. And Regan was nothing if not curious.

As the woman lifted her hand to knock again, Regan unlocked and opened the door.

The woman’s hand that had been primed to knock dropped to her chest in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t expect – hi! Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Regan greeted, taking the chance to peer her head out and look up and down the hallway to confirm that they were alone.

Once satisfied that they were, she dropped back to really look at the woman. She was several inches taller than Regan was and older – maybe in her mid-forties? She wore a short skirt, cut off at the thigh, and an animal print blouse with red lipstick. Her hair was obviously dyed, but Regan got the sneaking suspicionthat the woman had chosen this muted blonde because it was close to her natural color.

There was something familiar about her, but Regan had no idea where they’d met, if they ever had. Topped Off, maybe? But, that would be weird.

“Are you a solicitor?” Regan couldn’t help but ask, dipping her gaze down to the woman’s large tote bag. Maybe it was filled with flyers or handouts or a sign-up sheet. “I gotta tell you, there areveryfew things I’ll bite on these days.”

Typically, their doorman caught anyone attempting door-to-door canvassing, but sometimes people slipped through the cracks. And Regan was very good at sending them on their way… unless they were selling something she was interested in.

The woman smiled, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling with it, as she let out a confused laugh. “A sol – no. No, I’m not. I’m just looking for Emma Bo Bemma? Er.” She shook her head, pushing out a little laugh, “Emma Bordeaux. Is this the right apartment?”

Regan’s eyes widened so far that she thought they might fall out of her head as she barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry. Did you sayEmma Bo Bemma?”

She glanced over her shoulder just to see if Emma had heard those cursed words. Deep inside, Regan felt like Emma would have woken from the deepest of sleeps at being referred to in such an unserious way.

Nope, the coast was clear.

The woman’s grin settled in, obvious affection in her expression. “I sure did. And you’re… Regan?”

She was shocked at the idea that anyone in Emma’s – Emma Bo Bemma’s – life would know who she was, because Regan simply couldn’t imagine Emma willingly offering that information. “Why, yes. Yes, I am. And you’re…?”

“Kimberly.” She offered her hand. “Kimberly Hayes. I’m Emma’s mom.”

Regan could literally hear the record scratch in her head, her hand going momentarily limp in that handshake. Maybe she’d misheard?!

“Hermom?” Yeah, she could hear how doubtful she was in her own tone, but…this was Emma’s mom?

She seemed young. And she smiled a whole damn lot!

Regan hadn’t thought much about where Emma had come from, but in this moment, she realized that she’d always assumed Emma came from a very straight-laced, organized background. Much like Emma herself was in everyday life. She’d assumed, honestly, that Emma had come from a family similar to Regan’s own.

She eyed the woman – Kimberly – closer: maybe that was why she seemed so familiar. Her height, the icy hue of her eyes, the high, sharp slash of her cheekbones. Regan lived with the person who shared all of those characteristics!

Kimberly’s smile faltered, becoming sheepish. “Yes. And I know Emma’s been so incredibly busy lately, so I understand if she may not have told you very much about me. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your morning together.”

Regan slowly shook her head, laughing at the absurdity of that comment. “Uh, no, you’re not interruptingour morningtogether.”

Emma’s mom really had a sense of humor, she’d give her that. She could only imagine what Emma told her family about living with Regan, especially after the allergy disaster.

“Emma’s still in bed,” Regan explained after a beat, when Kimberly didn’t laugh at her own joke. “Given, you know, she’s not exactly a morning person.”

Not that Regan generally considered herself a morning person, either. She was more of a whatever-sleeping-schedule-fit-the-bill-that-day kind of person. But she definitely managed mornings better than Emma did.

Kimberly laughed, a light, tinkling sound. “Oh, that’s always been Emma.”

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