by Linda Palmer
“Chile, huh?” I sighed and abruptly gave in. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have time. Sadly, I did, though I hoped—no, believed—that would change.
I did it for Dad. Well, mostly. I wouldn’t be too sad about leaving St. Louis, where the temperature had hovered near one hundred for over a week. “What are we looking for, anyway?”
She laughed her relief or was it victory? “The Cherufe. It’s a monster made of rock and magma that lives in Chilean lava tubes.”
“You mean caves?”
“Yes.”
A cave monster. Perfect. Just perfect. “I’ll help on one condition. I get to bring a friend with me.”
“Who’d you have in mind?”
“Hanna Mills. I know she has a passport because she went to Spain for spring break, but we’ll both need visas.”
“Not for stays less than ninety days.”
“Really? Good. She’s off on Sundays and Mondays and with luck can possibly reschedule her appointments on the other days.” Hanna styled hair, gave manis and pedis, and did facials at a ritzy day spa. Not exactly life and death work in my opinion, though her big-tipping clients would probably disagree.
“Deal! Now I’ll call you tomorrow when Rich makes a lunch run—”
“Why wait?”
“Because it’s our secret.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your dad doesn’t know any of this. Phil talked to me in private.”
“Mo-om!”
“It’s for the best. Rich would just worry. Now I have to go. We’ll skip once he’s asleep.”
“Skype.”
“Whatever. Thank you, sweetie. I knew I could count on you.”
Chapter Two
I reentered the restaurant just in time to waylay Hanna, who was heading outdoors to find me.
She grabbed my hands and looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, actually there is something, but I don’t want to talk about it now.” I glanced pointedly at our neighbor, now chatting up a curvaceous brunette sitting at the bar a few feet from our table.
Hanna got it. “Okay. Later?”
“Later.” I pasted a smile on my face as we rejoined him.
Hanna and I didn’t get to talk until almost ten that night. She knocked softly on my door. I let her in, noting with envy that she looked like a beauty queen even with wet blond hair, gray sweatpants, and an oversized tee. I’d been researching Cherufes—there were actually depictions online—and hadn’t made it to the shower yet, much less changed to clothes more comfy.
“Tell me, tell me.”
I motioned for her to sit on the couch. “Want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
I got both of us a soda, plopped down beside her, and blurted everything my mom had told me. “I don’t want Dad to feel bad that I’m there, which means a lot of faking. I’ll never get through it without moral support.”
“Hm. This Sunday?” She twisted a damp blonde curl around her finger.
“Yes.”
“Wow.” Hanna turned sideways on the cushion and crossed her legs, her back against the arm rest. She hugged an indigo sofa pillow that made her baby blues pop. “Let me get this straight. Your mother is offering me an all-expenses-paid, four-day vacation to South America, where I’ll watch you guys film an episode of ‘Myths and Monsters.’”
“Don’t forget about the private jet.” I didn’t add that I wanted her to be in the episode, something I planned to discuss with Mom when we Skyped. “And I should warn you that it’s cold there in July.”
“Oh my God. Of course I’ll go. I have a few appointments I’ll have to juggle, but that shouldn’t be any problem.” She began to babble. “This is so cool. I’ve never been to South America.”
I didn’t share her enthusiasm. Mom’s secret plans worried me. For all I knew Dad was ready to retire. They’d been on one monster quest or another for almost thirty years, reporting their findings first in her books and now on the TV series. She’d always been the driving force. What if Dad needed a break?
Hanna drilled me with questions about luggage, appropriate wardrobe, shots, and visas. So I was exhausted when she left—exhausted and tired of pretending enthusiasm I didn’t feel.
I stepped out on my tiny private balcony to calm down. Five stories from the ground, I relaxed in a plastic chair in the dark and felt a hot breeze fan my face. Clouds skittered across the moon. The city lights hid the stars, which were up there somewhere, but pale in comparison to the manmade glow below. Out in the total darkness of the wild, the sky would appear star spangled, with most of them big as saucers.
Yeah. Something else I inexplicably missed.
Had I really let my mom railroad me into a trip I didn’t want to take? Or had I simply given in to my own desire for respite from my mundane life? It was easy to focus on the positive aspects of an adventure. New experiences. Time away from the stress of Hot Cakes. South America in all its glory.
I’d been one lucky girl the first nine years of my life, seeing more of the world than most people saw in a lifetime, while Mom researched her books and filmed MaM. But no matter how much I hated that one bad experience had tainted everything, I couldn’t go back and undo what had been done. Nor could I seem to forget it. Whether it made sense or not, that cave had changed me forever and not for good.
A light flicked on, brightening a deck that belonged to a room on my floor, but farther down the hall. A quick glance revealed it was Kit’s. Hidden by shadows, I watched as he and a gorgeous blond walked outside, laughing and talking. Afraid they’d see me if I tried to slip indoors, I sat quite still in the shadows. To my surprise, Kit began setting up a tripod with a photographer’s lamp mounted on it. He adjusted the beam so that soft light illuminated the girl, now standing against the iron rail with the city at night as her backdrop. She struck a sexy pose, which wasn’t hard. Her dress was cut clear down to her belly button. He began to photograph her.
Moonlighting? I silently laughed at the unintentional pun. That would explain a lot. Not that I wanted or needed to explain anything. I so didn’t. Kit wasn’t my type at all. And who had time for dating, anyway? Without making a sound, I eased off the chair. Just as I got to the door, Kit looked right at me and raised his hand in a short salute. Mortified, I ducked inside and headed straight for the shower to cool my flushed face.
Mom and I Skyped at six Thursday morning. She shared some of her ideas about MaM. I offered a couple of my own, one of them having a rookie along to provide a fresh point of view. Whether she realized it or not, the Boones had to be jaded after all those years of trotting the globe. I had a feeling some of that was coming across to viewers.
As for the show’s format, I suggested that they cut back to one or possibly two cameras. I thought a Blair Witch approach would be much more realistic than their usual presentation. Slick editing, flawless narrative, and an absence of real emotion equaled boring in my opinion. How could any viewer feel involved if everything looked staged?
Mom immediately vetoed that idea, and all attempts to argue met a dead end. Stressed to the nth degree by the time we said our goodbyes, I sat at my bar and drank my coffee. I made a list of to-dos and double-checked my calendar in hopes that I had a really urgent appointment of some kind or a huge cake order I’d forgotten. I had neither.
I dressed in capris, a Hot Cakes tee, and comfy sandals that fell somewhere between dressy and casual. On my walk to work—eight city blocks—I saw heat already shimmering above the sidewalks. That made me long for colorful leaves, dark days, cool nights. I loved autumn best of any season. And someday when I could afford to, I planned on leaving the city and buying myself a place in rural Missouri. Not too remote. I hated tedious commutes. But far enough out that I couldn’t smell exhaust or hear traffic outside my window.
At the bakery, I spent my morning showing Leslie Tanner and Cherie Hoffman how to make and tint fondant. While they practiced, I told them about my upcoming trip a
nd asked Leslie to be in charge while I was gone. The older of the two, she had worked for me from day one, and I knew I could trust her. Plus, she had talent and drive. Cherie, on the other hand, was a new hire who hadn’t been tested.
It was hard not to second guess my decision to go into business for myself. I’d focused on my talent and all the fun I’d have, never really acknowledging the minutiae of keeping things going. Cake transport, customer payment options, overhead, scheduling, advertising. I was bogged down in details and way in the red.
I locked up at seven that night. We three went our separate ways, with me picking up a couple of deli sandwiches on my walk home. I knocked on Hanna’s door once I got to our floor. With her cell phone to her ear, she opened up. I showed her the spare sandwich and moved on. When she came over later to eat it, she brought some cookies and chips. We stuffed our faces while watching Poltergeist, which still creeped me out, even though it wasn’t scary in a blood and guts kind of way. Plots with children in peril always got to me.
As the credits began to roll, Hanna stood up, yawning and stretching. The sound of laughter made both of us glance toward my sliding back door, which I’d apparently left open a crack when I watered my potted fern earlier.
I shrugged. “Kit and his girl Thursday, I guess.”
Hanna’s eyes widened. Before I could stop her, she shot to the door and poked her head out. Since that threw her shadow across my balcony, I jumped up and turned off the interior light. I hoped Kit hadn’t seen it and assumed I was checking up on him.
“Wow. She’s a total fox, and get a load of that outfit.”
“Shh.” I grabbed Hanna’s arm and tried to yank her back into the apartment.
She didn’t budge. “What?”
“Don’t spy.”
“They’re on his balcony.”
“So?”
“So they clearly don’t mind being seen.” Shaking me off, she looked out again. “Oh my God. You have to check this out.” She frantically motioned for me to join her.
I don’t know why I did. We both craned our necks. I saw Kit, camera lens aimed at a redhead who wore nothing above the waist except an animal print scarf, draped loosely around her neck. Since it lifted in the breeze, I saw way more than I wanted to. With a gasp, I pulled back, taking Hanna with me. I shut and locked the door, closed the drape, and turned on the light.
“Did you see those bodacious ta-tas?” Hanna was laughing so hard she barely got the words out.
I grimaced at the vivid memory.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she glanced pointedly at her chest and then mine. “No wonder he hasn’t asked either of us out.”
I pretended to be insulted. “Our boobs are perfectly respectable.”
“Not compared to hers.” Still sniggering, she walked to the door. “Whew! I needed that.”
“Why?” I followed and leaned against my doorjamb, watching while she crossed the hall and unlocked her apartment. “Did you have a bad day?”
“It was fine until Dad called to tell me Gran fell.”
“Geez, Hanna. Why didn’t you say something?” She adored her paternal grandmother, who lived in an Arkansas retirement home.
“No worries. Apparently she’s bruised up, but not broken.”
“Thank God.”
Chapter Three
I actually stayed busy on Friday, creating two cakes for July fourth parties. The first wasn’t that complicated—just a waving US flag. Seeing it, I thought of Pearl Harbor, where my parents and I had hunted for ghosts in a WWII ship, the USS Arizona. I hadn’t been scared of anything back then, and we’d all had a spooky good time in spite of its tragic history. With that weighing on my mind, I improvised by fringing the cake’s edges with iconic wartime scenes from the past and present. The end product was a masterpiece well worth the big bucks the customer would pay. I proudly photographed it for the scrapbook I was making.
The second cake featured the Vietnam Wall, with one particular soldier’s name in the center. I liked that his family honored his memory, and I remembered an occasion when my parents and I were in DC one December to take a haunted history tour. While there, we visited the Wall—a sight that made all of us cry—and we later celebrated Christmas in a hotel suite. It was a precious memory that made me miss both of them.
Maybe the search for the Cherufe wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I’d actually have fun. But not too much. I’d committed myself to Hot Cakes. Longing for more would only make me sad. Either way, I was glad Hanna would be with me. Blessed with smarts and a twisted sense of humor, she’d keep me distracted.
That night, I stayed busy updating my Hot Cakes web site. Hanna and I talked briefly on the phone. I asked about her grandmother. She told me that they’d x-rayed her and found broken bones after all, never good news when a woman in her eighties was the patient. But her only son—Hanna’s dad—was apparently staying close and keeping an eye on her.
Saturday wasn’t as busy as I’d hoped, but I kept myself occupied with minor stuff, and the morning passed quickly enough. By closing time—noon—I was ready to hand over the keys to Leslie. Feeling pretty okay with that, I focused on Sunday, which would be a stressful day for a lot of reasons.
Later that evening, Mom called to give me full details on Phil’s jet, whens and wheres I immediately shared with Hanna. We checked off every last thing on our to-be-done lists, wished we could afford new wardrobes, and then parted ways with a hug. Mindful of our departure time on Sunday—five a.m. sharp—I plugged up my cell and turned it off so it would fully charge. That done, I went to bed way earlier than usual.
I stood in the mall, window shopping. Spotting some boots that might work, I entered…a cave so dark that I couldn’t see my hand before my face. The musty smell made my stomach churn. I heard squeaks and flutters. Bats? I instinctively ducked. Something was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. To my left something heavy dragged across the cave floor, loosening rocks that skittered, rolled, and finally hit bottom in the center of the earth from the sound of it.
Panic spread from the knot in my stomach until it paralyzed my arms and legs. Stuck to the spot, I tried to catch my breath. My heart beat so fast I felt lightheaded. If I passed out, would I hit bottom, too?
“What the hell?” Topher!
A guy burst into laughter. “Couldn’t resist, bro. Shit! Okay. All right. I get it. Jesus. It was a joke.”
“I told you she’s off limits. Now get the eff out of here.” The other guy’s laughter faded to silence before Topher spoke again, this time to me. “Fairy castles, remember?”
“Where have you been?”
“Sorry, Ellie. I was tied up and not expecting a dream this early. What time did you go to bed, anyway? Five? Six?”
I ignored his sarcasm. “How old are you?”
“How old do you want me to be?”
“As old as you are, which is…?”
“Old enough.”
I tried a new tack. “What had you so tied up?”
“Do you think you’re the only one with bad dreams?”
Oh! “You mean you help other people?”
“Yes.”
“Female type people?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Topher laughed. “As many as need me. Why? Are you jealous?”
“We aren’t like that.”
“So you never wonder about me? Where I am? Who I am?”
“I know there’s no ‘where,’ and I’m equally certain there’s no ‘who.’”
I heard a chuckle. I felt lips touching mine and warm hands on my body, which wasn’t as shocking as it should’ve been. My heart skipped a beat and began pounding for all the right reasons. Tingly inside, I barely managed to speak. “Stay close for the next few days, will you?”
“I’ll never be farther than a whisper away.”
I stood in the mall, window shopping. Spotting some boots that might work, I went inside to try them on.
When the alarm clock went off on
Sunday, I slapped it into silence and pretty much fell out of bed, landing on one knee. I rubbed what would probably be a bruise as I hobbled to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face. In the mirror, I saw my own puffy eyes, tangled auburn hair, and wrinkled PJ’s. Since I hadn’t allowed very much time for my toilette, I slapped on a minimum of make-up, pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and dressed in jeans and a sparkly emerald tee that I knew matched my eyes—or would once I got my contacts in.
Not long after, I gathered my bag, tote, and purse and locked up behind me. Since Hanna and I were just taking one car, I knocked on her door. “Hello in there! Ready to fly the friendly skies?”
No answer.
“Hanna?” Knock. Knock.
Still no answer.
“Oh, Han-na.” Knock. Knock. Knock. Surely she hadn’t overslept. I glanced at my watch. Just enough time to get to the airport…if she hadn’t. “Hanna!”
“You didn’t get her note?”
I squealed and whirled around. “Macho-man! Sheesh. You startled me. What note?”
“The one she left for you.” He glanced all around before spotting the tip of a piece of paper peeking from under my door. “Here it is.”
He retrieved and handed me a cash register receipt I’d apparently missed when I exited my apartment. I turned it over and found near illegible squiggles.
Ellie, I’m so sorry I’m not doing this in person, but you didn’t answer your phone, and I couldn’t leave a voice mail without boohooing. Dad fell asleep at the wheel on the way home from the hospital last night and totaled his car. He’s in the ICU in a coma, so I’m freaking out. Kit has a passport and free time. He’s going in my place. I’ll call you when I can. Hanna.
I read the note twice before I met Kit’s gaze. “What time did she write this?”
“Around one, I think.”
“She had time to call you, but not me?”
“No. We ran into each other in the hall, literally. She was texting you instead of watching her step. I say ‘texting.’ Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t. I gave her what I had to write on.”