Page 4 of The Monster's Mate

Samantha smiles broadly. “That’s where my plan comes in. You see, instead of Lucy getting a job, why don’t you let her work every other night for you? You get to have free time when people think you’re working but you can move around the commune and catch glimpses of your daughter.”

I can tell it makes sense to Isabel, who turns to look at me.

“She’s almost your height. Both brunettes, close enough to pass for each other at night. Especially if you wear the same clothes. No one will be close enough to see you have gray eyes and she has brown. But you’ll always have an alibi if someone says a person is walking about… you work in the commune. Later, if they should happen to ask if you were somewhere on a certain night… well, timecards don’t lie. You were working. Obviously, hard at it because the church and surrounding buildings are getting cleaned. Every evening. There’s no way someone can skip out and still do the work.”

“It’s almost brilliant,” Isabel breathes. “Lucy, are you okay with it?”

“That brings up something else,” Samantha says before I can answer. “I think for this to work, there needs to be honesty all around. While it’s Lucy’s story to tell, and Isabel, you too have details that should be yours to share, I’m sure you’ll be fast friends and will soon know everything about each other. But for now, let me tell you that I worry about Lucy getting a job on her own, under her name. I don’t want her to be traced. Try the two-person, one-job thing. If it doesn’t work or if you find you don’t have enough to pay the bills, maybe you can apply for a part-time job and Lucy can take it?”

“Yes,” Isabel says, and smiles at me. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Samantha nods. “Good. I’m about to quit the chauffeur job. When I do, I’ll come to visit but it won’t be in the limo anymore. Which should probably work out to our benefit, anyway.”

“How did you end up working for Steve Milles?” Isabel asks. “He seems to have gotten quite a bit of money over the years.”

“Oh, I don’t work for him,” Samantha says. Then she takes a page from her own handbook on honesty and admits, “I work for Duke Milinazzo. He’s my uncle.”

Isabel freezes.

“But she’s not like them,” I say quickly, because the look of terror on her face makes me realize she’s probably had to deal with Duke once or twice, which makes sense if her dad and mine were partners for years. “Sam’s mom is Duke’s sister, and they don’t even get along. Not much. They’re too alike in personality and are always competing.”

“My mom’s a bitch just like Duke’s an asshole,” Samantha says cheerfully. “Let’s just call it like it is. But she married into money and she and her brother need each other, even when they can’t stand one another. Isabel, you’re not the first person to run from our family.”

“Okay.” Isabel looks wary and I don’t blame her one whit.

“How about if we don’t talk about him?” I ask gently.

She’s nodding enthusiastically when Sam says drily, “So what are the two of you going to talk about?”

“I-I guess I could tell you stories about the orphanage?” I say, and my grin is huge like what I really mean is I came from a fancy, upper crust home. “Stories of mystery and intrigue.”

She snorts. “I could tell you stories about living at my Aunt Elsa’s. Lived on the other side of the commune there. Stories of betrayal and brainwashing.”

That makes me laugh. “Have you seen the latest prophet? I swear he’s about to drop dead if a stiff wind blows.”

“It would be a good time to be one of his wives,” she says slyly. “I’d take a walk to the edge of a cliff and pray for that merciful wind.”

Both me and Samantha burst into laughter. Isabel smiles shyly and I think I like her.

Samantha unloads groceries and we all start making lunch, talking about forbidden folk because we have one thing in common. None of us can tell.

I don’t think it’ll be so bad here after all.

When Samantha leaves and it starts to grow dark, Isabel shows me the garden she plans to start.

“I think we should probably come out one at a time after this day,” she says. “Pretend to be one and the same, you know?”

I agree. “Yes. If the neighbors are questioned, they can never say there are two women who live here.”

“Exactly! Just one eccentric woman who comes out after dark because she cleans the church down at the commune at nights, so she’s used to keeping a night schedule. In fact, we can let them know without them ever seeing me. When the first crop from the gardens produces, we can leave a basket on their porch with a note introducing me and mentioning that I sleep during the day and work all night.”

For the first time, excitement bubbles through me. This could work. This could really work.

“Hey, have you heard about those aliens?” Isabel asks.

“The Britonians? The ones that are here to clean up the planet?”

She shakes her head. “Not those ones. The ones they’re matching us up to. They walk on tentacles!”

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