Page 28 of Unlocking Melodies

“As you can see from the Q3 projections-“ My carefully rehearsed presentation to the board was interrupted by what sounded like a dinosaur being murdered outside my window. The prestigious members of Cole's board of directors watched via video call as I jumped at the sound of Mrs. Henderson's prize rooster announcing the dawn.

Again.

“Everything alright, Ethan?” Reuben's amusement was poorly concealed.

I maintained my professional smile while shutting the window against what had become a full-blown rooster choir. “Just some local color. Now, about the neural interface patents-“

Another crow pierced through the allegedly soundproof glass. In her video square, Mia pressed her lips together, clearly fighting back laughter.

“I have to ask,” Hayes leaned forward in his Manhattan office, “why exactly are you conducting business from what appears to be... is that floral wallpaper?”

“We're exploring potential locations for our new tech hub initiative,” I lied smoothly. The truth - that I'd specifically requested this room for its view of the ranch trail where Jimmy took his morning walks - seemed less professionally advantageous.

“In a town that doesn't appear on most maps?”

“Sometimes innovation comes from unexpected places.” Like a small-town bar where a music manager with amnesia made my carefully constructed world tilt on its axis. “Mia, the acquisition numbers?”

She stepped in with perfect timing, directing attention back to spreadsheets and projections. Crisis averted for now.

After the call, I faced my next challenge.

Coffee. My usual service - which imported single-origin beans at prices that would make most people choke - didn't deliver to Oakwood Grove. Which meant facing The Daily Grind.

The bell above the door announced my entrance to what appeared to be the entire town's senior population. Mrs. Henderson's coffee club tracked my movement like a nature documentary, whispering behind their mugs.

“Well, if it isn't Moneybags himself.” The barista - whose hair was currently three different neon colors - gave my Rolex a pointed look. “Let me guess: triple shot oat milk latte, extra hot, with a pump of sugar-free vanilla?”

I blinked. “How did you-“

“Sarah from the diner texted me your order. Said you'd be in once you realized Lorenzo's Premium Bean Service doesn't deliver here.”

The coffee club's whispers grew louder. I caught fragments about my “jogger's physique” and “such a shame about the situation with Jimmy.”

My phone buzzed with Mia's seventh message of the morning.

Mia

Board wants full report on 'tech hub initiative.' I bought you 48 hours. You're welcome.

Three messages from my father.

Fatherly Figure

Reuben called.

What are you really doing in that town?

Call me.

And somehow, impossibly, a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number

Riley Stanton, Oakwood Grove Gazette. Any comment on your intentions toward our recently amnesiac music manager? Also, does Cole Innovations have plans to develop locally, or is this visit purely personal?

The barista - their nametag read “Sky/They/Them” - slid my perfectly made latte across the counter. “That'll be $4.75.”

I handed over my black Amex.

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