Page 63 of The Game Is Afoot

“Ms. Joyce? Is this yours? I found it on the sill of my kitchen window, and…I could hear your voice coming out of it?” She has a tentative smile on her face, as if this is all some misunderstanding and she’s happy to be set straight.

“Ms. Joyce! You put that in her kitchen window?!”

Ms. Joyce gives me a look that’s the old lady equivalent of “snitches get stitches.” But then she purses her lips together and says sweetly to Mackenzie, “Oh, thank you. I must have misplaced that…”

“In herkitchen window?”

If Ms. Joyce wasn’t going to haunt me before, shedefinitelywill now.

Mackenzie twirls her ponytail and bounces on her feet nervously. “I also noticed the cameras on your side of the fence.They kinda, well…they feel like they’re directed at our house? Did they just get, um, well…turned around in the wind?”

She’s being incredibly polite. But I guess, like, howdoyou come out and ask your elderly neighbor if she is watching you with security cameras and has also apparently creeped into your backyard and slipped a bug into your back window? All because you installed a Ring camera and asked about a neighborhood HOA once??

Ms. Joyce nods and reaches for the bug. “Yes, they must have, thank you.”

Mackenzie bites her lip as she places it in Ms. Joyce’s hand. I can see she wants to say more, but doesn’t want to be disrespectful. Even with how much Ms. Joyce is, objectively,wilding outhere. I feel a burst of tenderness for my little friend.

“I’ll help her get them all fixed, Mackenzie. And make sure they face her side of the fence.” I hear Ms. Joyce make a small sound of protest in the back of her throat.

“Thank you, Mavis,” Mackenzie says, relief flushing her face. “And I’m so sorry to bother you, Ms. Joyce. Your scarf is beautiful, by the way.”

Ms. Joyce touches her pastel head wrap and nods magnanimously.

“And if you find any more of those things,” I say, nodding to the bug in Ms. Joyce’s hand, “feel free to bring them to me. I wouldn’t want her to somehow misplace any more of them…in your house.”

The slight upturn of Ms. Joyce’s lips as she suddenly becomes fascinated with the toile pattern of her wallpaper lets me knowfor surethere’s more.

“Oh yes, of course!” Mackenzie chirps, beaming at us both. How is she so nice? If I found out that my neighbor was spyingon me, I wouldn’tbring them back their bugs! How does that level of nice even exist? But actually, this might work in my favor…

She starts to walk away. “Well, I’m going to go for a run—”

“Wait—can I talk to you about something?”

I glance back at Ms. Joyce, who seems to be caught between her natural states of disapproval and nosiness.

“I’ll be right back, Ms. Joyce. To…help you.” I walk down to the end of her path, hopefully out of earshot, and Mackenzie follows.

“I hope it’s okay to ask, but I’ve been thinking so much about Bethany and everything she shared the other night. I was wondering: Were you around when she was going through chemo? When she…miracled herself? I’ve just…never heard anything like it.”

Mackenzie’s blue eyes go wide and awestruck, like they were at the self-care party. “Yes! It was so, so inspiring! I met her after her cancer went into remission the first time and was there when we got the, just, awful and heartbreaking news that it came back. I was already a self-care consultant, but seeing her go through that…that’s what made me want to commit to this business with everything I have. Ineededto be there for her. And I needed to help other women find the I LUV ME method, so they can protect themselves.” She smiles and reaches forward to touch my arm. “So, you’re going to join our team? I think you’re going to be so happy—”

“Did you ever go to the doctor with her, though? Or meet any of her care team?”

Mackenzie jerks her hand back like my skin is on fire. Her face is confused, and then angry. With all of Ms. Joyce’s antics, I’ve never seen Mackenzie’s eyebrows drop so low, or her frown so deep.

“Mavis. I know what you’re getting at,” she huffs. Her cheeks are more red than they’ve ever been from her daily workouts. “And I…I’m not—howdareyou?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you. But you don’t think her story is strange? At all?”

“No! This woman has been through so much and all she wants is to help others. She told me this might happen. That people might question her. When you bring so much good into the world, some people get jealous. They want to take down what theywishthey could do, instead of focusing on their own path and self-care journey. Shetold me, and still—I was shocked when it happened!”

“Wait, wait. So. This has happened before? I’m not the first person to question her?”

“No. I mean—yes.” She winces. “But it was just one person. And he waswrong. Just like you.”

“Who was wrong? Who’s ‘he’?” But even as I ask, it’s already clicked. I know who she’s talking about, who ithasto be. “It was Cole, wasn’t it? The person who questioned Bethany?”

Her face looks wild with panic. She takes one step back, and then another. “I—I…didn’t mean to say that. It was nothing. I need to go.”

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