Page 29 of The Escape Plan

Her hand flies to her cheek, where a thin red line of crusty sauce is lurking. “Oh my gosh, I’m a mess,” she mutters as she scratches it off. Then, she lets out a sigh. “If you must know, I squeezed my breakfast sandwich too hard, and a bunch of ketchup shot out of it.”

This is possibly the last answer I’m expecting, and a laugh slips out of my mouth. “Again with these famous breakfast sandwiches I keep hearing about. But why would you use one as a squeeze toy?”

“It’s a long story.”

I nod at the locked door in front of us. “Judging by our current predicament, I can confidently say I have nothing but time.”

Keeley sighs again, heavily this time. “Okay, we should probably start at the beginning. Do you know much about the history of Serendipity Springs?”

“Not really.”

“Let me enlighten you…” Keeley then goes on to tell me a very colorful, very detailed story about the origins of Serendipity Springs.

Years and years ago, weary travelers stopped here to rest on a long journey and wound up drinking from the springs in the ground. After they drank the spring water, they found they had good luck—sick people were healed, the weather improved, good fortune seemed to follow them. And so, instead of moving onwards, the travelers stayed. Established the town while celebrating the good luck and fortune they’d fallen upon by drinking from the spring.

She finishes the tale and her face creases briefly. “Or, so the legend goes. It’s pretty well-known lore around these parts, but in all honesty, it was probably just a good location. There’s a microclimate of temperate weather here, good soil, free-flowing clean water…”

“Huh,” is all I can manage.

This is the exact type of story my Gran used to tell me, about lore and luck and mysterious happenings in the world, and Keeley’s words—the magic in the tale—are settling over me like a blanket steeped in nostalgia.

I’ve missed this feeling.

“So, what’s this legend got to do with your breakfast?” I ask, eager for her to go on with the story. Eager to keep this feeling close.

“According to a popular story around here, this building—the one we’re sitting in—is supplied with water from that spring. The very one the original settlers of the town drank from.” Keeley frowns down at her hands. “So, some of the more hardcore believers think that The Serendipity has a divine ability to grant its tenants luck. Particularly luck in love.”

“That’s wild,” I say. “It sounds like a lot of the old Irish folklore stories I got told growing up. Do you believe it?”

“Not at all.” She turns her face away for a moment, and when she spins back around, her expression is almost defiant. “But this morning, while I was in the middle of eating my delicious breakfast sandwich, I learned that, in order to get my dream job at my dream publication, I have to write an article on this stupid legend.” She winces. “The last thing I want to think or talk or write about islove.”

I instantly recall Andrew and Lisa outside the elevator. How Keeley’s face fell when she saw them together…

“Because living in the building has done the opposite of giving you luck in love?” I guess gently.

“Exactly.” She barks a laugh.

“That sucks,” I tell her. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s true.

“Love sucks,” she emphasizes.

This gives me a thought. “So what if youdidn’twrite about love? What if you take a different angle—explore your belief that these old stories about the buildingaren’ttrue?”

She blinks slowly. “That’s… not the worst idea in the world.”

I arch a brow, somehow more amused as her face creases in deep thought. “You’re welcome.”

She glances at me, then rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Beckett,” she sing-songs like a five-year-old whose mother just reminded her to be polite, but she’s clearly hiding a smile.

I have to laugh. “It’s really cool you’re a writer.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I teach music theory, but I give guitar lessons on the side.”

“Explains why you and Ezra hit it off right away.” She lifts her eyes heavenward. “And the guitar case in the elevator.”

“Never leave home without it,” I say cheerfully.

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