Page 2 of Wildest Dreams

“Of course.” I get her email address and phone number. The next thing I know, I have an executed short-term lease and $5,000 transferred into my bank account.

Patsy finally drags in, carrying coffee and two turkey sandwiches from Bread Crumbs. I stand in the entryway of my office, leaning on the frame with arms crossed and a huge smile as she sets everything down on the front desk.

“That’s a happy face!” said Patsy. “Did F-er get hit by a truck or something?” Tucker is my ex, but she refuses to call him by his name. Suffice it to say, she’s not a fan.

“No, but you’re about to give me the biggest I-told-you-so of your life.”

She gives me a curious look and waits for my explanation.

“Not only were you right about the movie,” I start as her face lights up, “but the production company is also renting my lake house for one of the actors.”

She squeals so loud I think my eardrum may burst. “F me. This is so f-ing exciting! I can’t wait to tell Garion!” I know Garion, her husband, couldn’t care less about movie stars in Magnolia Row, but I guess she has enough excitement for them both. “Who is it? Is it someone we know?”

I chuckle. “We don’t actuallyknowany movie stars.”

“You know what I mean. Is it someone huge? Is this like a movie-movie or a TV movie? Or a Netflix movie? Maybe HBO? I have so many questions!”

“I have no answers. They didn’t say and I didn’t ask. All I know is that this mystery person will be here in two weeks and will stay for six to eight weeks after that.”

She squeals and claps like a little kid.

I simply shake my head. “Since we’re not busy right now, I’ll need your help getting the house ready. Can you go dust, vacuum, and make sure the linens are clean?”

“Absolutely. I may install a camera or two while I’m there.”

“Patsy!”

She’s joking.

I hope.

* * *

It’s the morning the keys are supposed to be picked up and Patsy is in my apartment before I even go down to the office. My apartment, which had served as a storage room when my dad owned the accounting firm I now run, is about as basic as living spaces come. It’s an efficiency loft with a tiny bathroom, kitchenette, high ceilings, and tall, thin windows overlooking Main Street. I’ve done very little in the way of decorating, so the walls are flat white with only a few random trinkets here and there.

I’m still getting ready when Patsy lets herself in. I’m surprised she’s actually wearing make-up and her hair is not in a ponytail.

“My mom is taking the kids to school this morning,” she says, watching me brush my teeth. “She’s as excited as I am! What if Reese Witherspoon walks in the door today?”

I spit out my toothpaste. “Then we can say we’ve met Reese Witherspoon. My life will go on the same.”

“The suspense is killing me!”

After vetoing five of my “boring” outfits, she makes me wear a sundress I’d forgotten I owned and sandals that blister my feet. It’s definitely a change from my normal bland office clothes, but I go with it because I don’t have the energy to argue this early in the morning.

We walk down the narrow stairs to the office and wait.

And wait.

Finally, two hours after lunch, a petite blonde with bobbed wavy hair comes in the front door. My workspace is essentially three rooms: the front lobby where Patsy sits, my office behind her, and a bathroom under the stairs leading up to my apartment. Because it’s tiny, I can hear everything that happens even if I’m hiding behind my computer, so when she walks in, I get up and meet her in the lobby.

This has to be the person picking up the keys, as she’s definitely not from here. For one, I don’t recognize her. Second, she’s wearing a hoodie with tight jeans and Skechers, which is way too much clothing for such a warm May afternoon in the South. Patsy does a poor job hiding her disappointment. This is not a celebrity.

“May I help you?” I ask.

“My name is Harriett. I’m here to pick up the keys to the rental house,” she says.

“Of course.” I retrieve the envelope from my desk drawer and Patsy wastes no time quizzing her.

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