“I said I would go,” I muttered to myself. The couple behind me hurriedly overtook me and rushed off down the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know, right? I must be crazy!”
I laughed out loud at my own joke and crossed Main Street to my mother’s art gallery. As usual, there were a few pedestrians slowing down in front of her wide windows to gawk at her current class.
“Fabric Dance,” I explained with a broad smile to the nearest gawker. “That’s where you dance around with pretty, floaty scarves.”
Even though I was the one seriously considering leaving everything and running away with Storm Morris, my mother was still seen as the crazy one. There was comfort in that, and I suddenly found my eyes blurring. On the other side of the window, my mother leaped by trailing scarlet, emerald, and sapphire scarves.
She waved, and I blinked. “I’m losing my mind,” I said out loud.
Caroline’s class finished up, and I faced the now-empty window and saw myself. My hair was still the same wild mess it always was, but I still looked like a boring, straight-laced accountant. How could I even imagine leaving my life and running away with Storm?
Then it struck, I wished I was more like my mother.
The few ladies who had attended my mother’s class filtered out the door and didn’t notice me at all. They jostled by, breathless and laughing.
“You should have joined us,” my mother called from inside. “See how light they feel?”
I slumped in the door and leaned on the wall. “Don’t you ever worry you’ll just float away?”
Caroline smiled and came over to hug me. “Just the idea feels better than being so afraid I chain myself down completely.”
I shrugged off her familiar advice. “But what about me? What would you tell me to do?”
My mother pulled me into her kitchen. “I would tell you to decide with your heart, not your head. I can already feel all your practicalities burying whatever idea you were thinking about outside.”
“You saw that?” I asked. My mother struck most people as flighty, but I knew she had laser powers of observation.
“I saw you were excited and happy and scared. And smiling,” Caroline said. “What happened?”
I turned to make some tea and didn’t know what to say. “Want any help folding up those scarves from your class?”
My mother rolled her eyes at my change of topic. While I made tea, she cleaned up the studio space and turned off the lights. When she came back, she was carrying a light folder that she shook out on the counter.
“Payments from class?” I asked. The cash was scant.
“But one was a returning student. I’ve still got some regulars,” my mother said.
I forgot about the tea and leaned heavily on the counter. “What are you going to do?”
Caroline waved a hand to shoo away my concern. “That’s not for you to worry about. You seem to have enough on your mind lately.”
“I’m serious, Mother. What happens when you can’t pay the rent? Do you have a plan of where you’re going to go?” I asked.
My mother was still for a moment, eyes on the short stack of cash. “Susie Q is always looking for a travel companion. There’s even a fancy resort she knows that might like my kind of classes.”
“And then what?” I cried. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving my mother at loose ends while I traveled the world in luxury with Storm.
“I don’t know, Cora. That’s life. Haven’t you learned by now that plans don’t always pan out? So, I’m just skipping that step and dealing with whatever happens next.”
“So, you’d leave Murtaugh?” I don’t know why the question bothered me so much, but the tears blurred my eyes again.
“I could always come and stay with you,” my mother said quietly. She walked a thin line between needing me and reminding me I was her daughter.
“What if I’m going to do some traveling?” My voice squeaked. Was I really still thinking about going?
My mother raised one elegant eyebrow but swallowed her huge smile politely. “Well, if the trip with Susie Q gets weird—”
“When,” I prompted her.
She laughed. “Fine. When the trip gets weird, I’ll house sit for you. How’s that? All wrapped up in a neat little bow for you?”
“And just leave all this behind?” I couldn’t believe she was so calm in the face of momentous change. I was so jealous of her calm, and my voice rose. “Just like that?!”
“I’d never leave you behind, Cora. Or keep you back. Does that help?” she asked in a soothing tone. “Or do we need to fight it out until you just yell it at me?”
“Yell what?” I asked, gaping.
“Whatever it is you haven’t said since you came home for this little visit,” my mother said. Her eyebrow raised again, and she waited, expectantly tapping her toe.
Did I really think I could just take off with a rock star and not admit to the mess I’d made of my life?
I cringed as reality crept in. My mother needed me, and I couldn’t possibly run off and expect Storm to support me. I needed a new job, and it would take all my mother’s charm and connections to help me find another position. That meant I had to tell her I had been fired. No recommendations. A total and complete failure.
Or I could just pretend it was all in the past and run off with Storm. Why couldn’t I start over, too? He would encourage it. And my mother, of all people, would understand. It would all work out in the end.
For a minute, I thought I could, but my mother would never buy even the best lie.
And she deserved the truth.
“I messed up at work. I have no idea how it happened, but it was all on me. Millions of dollars. I’m lucky to have escaped without a lawsuit, or so they tell me.” I clasped my hands together and held my breath.
“So that bridge is burned, huh?” My mother’s smile couldn’t be contained. “Oh, darling, you never do anything by halves, do you?”
“I’m old enough to admit we’re more alike than I ever thought possible.” I hugged her.
Caroline laughed. “And the big fancy apartment?”
“Gone. And all the furniture. I tried to keep up like nothing was wrong…” I squeezed my mother’s hands. “I wasted everything right when you really needed me.”
“And what if you are actually what I need?” my mother asked. “What if seeing you find a way to be really, truly happy is all I need?”
I shook my head and tried to reason with her. “Mother—”
“Do you know what kind of boost that would give me? I could, I don’t know, master that whole YouTube thing,” my mother said.
I hugged her again, believing with my whole heart when I said, “You’ll be an instant star!”
“And we can keep in touch while you’re on your trip?” she asked.
I stopped as my chest throbbed. I wanted to be with Storm. I knew I had to see where we would end up or I would regret it for the rest of my life. I also knew that the Storm I loved was the one right here in Murtaugh. I didn’t need some flashy jet-set trip. And I didn’t think he did either.
“What if I would be happy staying here?” I asked.
“Then you need to talk to Storm. Show him everything he’s got right here,” my mother said.
I had no idea what I was going to say to convince Storm to stay, but I was buzzing with ideas by the time I got to the mansion. Storm had said he would pick me up, but the front door was open, and he was clearly still inside. My body hummed with excitement, and I almost shrieked when an unfamiliar man came out of the front parlor.
“I’m sorry, miss? What was that you were humming?” he asked.
I blinked at the sixty-ish man with short, white hair, an impeccable goatee, and a very expensive suit. “I was humming?”
“The same song I heard one of the movers humming,” he said encouragingly.
“Tall guy, clean-shaven? Tattoos here and here?” I asked. The man nodded, and I laughed as I realized he meant Storm. “It’s a new song the owner of the house was writing.”
The man stumbled back with one awestruck hand over his heart, displaying a glinting Rolex. “He’s writing music again? I mean, I’m sorry. My name is Thomas Talbot. I’m buying the property.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m, ah, Cora.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask for any further explanation.
“The photographer? The property manager was looking for you earlier,” Thomas Talbot said. “Could you possibly tell me about this painting here?”
It happened to be one of the very first pieces that Storm had shown me the night I didn’t actually know who he was. I bit back my smile and explained its origins to the buyer, all the time hoping I had half of my mother’s charm.
“Did that help?” I asked, punctuated with a perky smile.
His eyes twinkled. “Is it true you’re from town? I mean, you grew up in Murtaugh?”
I didn’t like the way he spoke about it as if I was some sort of lab specimen, but I had to get him to back out of the sale. “Spent my childhood watching tourists up and down Main Street.”
That hooked him, and he leaned against the doorjamb. “I was one of those lucky pilgrims once.”
“Then are you sure you want to live here?” I laid a concerned hand on his arm. “The tourists have slowed to a trickle and all the places here that were so lively and unique are dying off. I don’t think I can bear to stay and watch it much longer.”
He straightened his tie with a pained expression. “My wife warned me that coming here would ruin the nice memories I have.”
I clutched his arm. “Just think! Storm is writing music again. There really is something in this mansion.”
“If he stays, he might be inspired to play again?” Thomas Talbot asked.
I wished for all the world I had been able to record the distinguished man’s hopeful face. He was a long-time fan, a pilgrim, and a music patron. The only other way I knew to sell it was to give the man another experience of a lifetime.
I pulled him slowly down the hallway and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Plus, I never thought the curse of this place was real until I came here to take those photographs.”
Thomas Talbot looked delighted. “A curse?”
“They don’t tell you it even on the most exclusive tours, but I’ve known enough tour guides to have heard the real story.” I warmed up to my story and hoped it would work. “Hardly anyone can get out of here without humming a tune they’ve never heard before. Sounds innocent, right? But have you ever heard of an ‘earworm?’”
“Those songs that get stuck in your head?” the quickly exiting buyer asked.
“Exactly. They can drive you mad. It drives Storm mad every once in a while, and he tries to sell the place. The only difference is he’s got talent. Can you imagine if you lived here and could never satisfy these insistent songs?” I opened the front door for Thomas Talbot.
“Marvelous. A haunted house,” he breathed.
“And, to think, you almost bought it!” I was about to shut the door on him when Storm appeared.
“There’s no haunting, but there is something strange going on.” His gray eyes pierced mine and searched for an explanation.
I was caught, and my last lie was out.