Page 24 of The Escape Plan

“’Scuse me a second,” I say as I stand from the table, bagel in one hand and my phone in the other.

“Hello?” I answer, pacing away from the table and walking towards the garden.

“Eek!” comes the squeal in response.

I grin. “Got my text, then?”

“Sure did! I already texted Nisha to let her know that you’ll be applying. She’s super excited to get your article submission. You should start looking at rentals on Zillow; I recommend Malden Center or Oak Grove as starting points.”

“I haven’t gotten the job yet, Freya,” I remind her.

“You’re a shoo-in.”

“I’m glad one of us is so confident,” I say with a laugh, but my heart is beating fast. “This means I can start coming up with article topics for my interview…” I start listing off a couple ideas I’ve had already, none of which have anything to do with The Serendipity or my town’s lore.

Nope. These article ideas are all interesting, of the moment, and based infact.

“Actually,” Freya interrupts me gently, and I can practically hear her huge smile. “I know exactly what she wants.”

Phew.Probably safe from the article topic that can’t be named, at least.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, a tad distracted because a glob of cheese has escaped my breakfast sandwich and is trickling down my hand.

I clumsily attempt to lick it off.

“The Serendipity!” Freya announces.

My stomach drops. “What about it?” I say feebly, grasping at straws. As though we didn’t talk about this justyesterday.

“You remember.” Freya tuts. “We spoke about that supposed ‘urban legend’ about the building bringing people together, making them lucky in love?”

“Oh, yes. That one.”

Freya goes on excitedly. “When I told Nisha this morning that you were going to apply for the staff writer position—and that youlivein that building—she specifically requested that you write about the whole legend surrounding the place.”

My stomach churns, and I laugh as casually as possible. AKA, not casually at all. “I figured I could write something factual, something based in reality. And as I mentioned, it’s just some daft old story that holds no truth. Small town lore.”

I’m flailing.

“That’s exactly what she loves about this idea!” Freya croons in delight. “She wants whimsy. Stars aligning. Something that winks at bending the rules of science we so often use in today’s swipe-happy dating world, with all the algorithms matching people up. She wants a fresh story with a fresh angle. Around three thousand words. Make it fun. Playful. Sexy.”

My hand involuntarily tightens around my breakfast sandwich like it’s a stress ball, which sends a river of ketchup and hot cheese squirting down my arm and splattering over my shirt.

Sexy, indeed.

From the table on the porch, Ezra is shooting me weird looks.

“Is there any way I could possibly write something—anything—else for her?” I panic-hiss into the phone. “Because I really do have a whole slew of other ideas…”

“Nope,” Freya says cheerfully. “This is your best shot for landing this job, Keeley. And you're perfectly positioned, right on the ground there, to do the research and really hit it home with this article. I have full faith in you. And remember, my reputation is on the line too, because I recommended you. So do me proud, Keels.”

With that, she hangs up.

I wipe my arm on my already fully ketchup-ed shirt, and I sigh as I launch my breakfast sandwich into the nearest trash can.

Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry.

Chapter Nine

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