“What?” I whisper, as I get up out of my lotus position and tiptoe through Marion’s apartment, heading for the door. I pass Marion, who’s still fast asleep and snoring, and then Bo, also snoozing, also snoring. Sasha the Chihuahua watches me suspiciously as I creep past her, but thankfully doesn’t bark.
My legs feel stiff and achy as I slip out into the hall and ease the apartment door closed behind me as quietly as possible. I definitely have pins and needles.
“If you are calling to complain about the market’s selection of packaged pastries again, I’m going to hang up. I’m working.”
“Since when are you so invested in work?”
“Since this morning. I thought I was at rock bottom, but apparently, there’s a little room down beneath that rock-bottom level. And, thanks to the fact that my supervisor told me this morning that I’m on probation and could get fired if I don’t shape up, I might get to check out that special room very soon.”
“Feeling moody, are we?” I drop down into a deep knee-bend to try to get some feeling back into my legs. I’ve been sitting on the hardwood floor in Marion’s place for three hours straight, and my circulation system is protesting.
“Yes, I am feelingverymoody. Marion got in from work at three last night, and I had to get up at eight this morning to have that Zoom meeting with my supervisor, who thinks that for a person who specializes in data entry, I’m really not entering data all that expertly.”
“That’s because you’re anartist. You should bepainting.”
“I know that. You know that. But my supervisor Jim does not know that, and he said if I don’t pick up my pace, I’m canned. I mean, what’s his problem? I’m only doing this work to help them out, so can’t they suck it up and bear with me if I’m a little slow and I sometimes mix up product numbers?”
Inside the apartment, I hear Bo bark.
Shoot.
I turn, push the door open, and point at him. My stern no-barking look, along with the pointing gesture, makes him slink back to his dog bed near the wall.
I gently close the door again and whisper into my phone. “Bo’s up from his nap now, and that means Sasha will start harassing him soon and yipping and snapping and all that. I’d better get them both out for a walk so Marion can sleep in. Plus, I am way behind already with these invoices. I gotta go.”
“You haven’t even let me tell you why I’m calling.”
“I didn’t?” I rub my brow as I think back. “Wow. I didn’t. Sorry, Fizzy. I’m sort of a mess today. Go ahead.”
“Thank you. Now. With regards to your artwork, your Prince Charming, and—”
“He’s not my Prince Charming anymore. You can just call him King of the Grumps again.”
“Why don’t we call him Damian, for now.”
“Fine.”
“With regards to your artwork, Damian, and the press releases… I have finally, finally come to some very startling and highly interesting conclusions.”
“I am on the edge of my seat.”And have been, for weeks,I think, as I slide down the wall and sit on the carpeted hallway floor.
“And you’ll have to stay there until this Saturday at the Founders Festival. Youmustcome. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t possibly explain everything over the phone. Highly sensitive; highly unusual.”
I roll my eyes. “Fizzy, I know you love drama, and secrets, and surprises. And usually, I do, too. But right now, I’d rather just have a boring answer. And anyway, I can’t get away for a visit this weekend, as much as I’d love to see you and eat way too many sweets at the festival. I signed up for some waitressing shifts, and—”
“I’m not asking you to visit Silver Springs so we can chat while munching on caramel popcorn balls, though that does sound nice. I’m telling you that you need to be at the Founders Festival so that you can attend the Silver Springs Museum of Modern Art opening.”
“Um… Earth to Fizzy … ? That’s absolutely out of the question.”
For the past few weeks, I’d chatted Fizzy’s ear off about my progress with the water rights issue. I’d gotten as far as hiring a lawyer, which felt like a big step for me.
“Damian will be there, and probably his mother, too. Plus, Minerva…? Hello? I still have nightmares about that cane of hers.”
Inside the apartment, Bo barks again. Then Sasha chimes in with a few yap-yaps of her own.
I hear Marion grumble something.
“I am about to go toe-to-toe with the Knights in a major legal battle,” I whisper to Fizzy in a rush. “There’s no way I want to bump into any of them. Plus, I owe Damian a bunch of money that I don’t have yet. And didn’t you say Addison’s going to be there with Damian?”