Chapter One
“Thank you, I’m so glad you love the piece. Come again!”
Ella waved as the tourist couple exited her shop, Everything Ella, with a small ceramic piece that she’d fired the week before wrapped securely and tucked under the woman’s arm. They were on a day trip from Portland, which was about two hours away from her quaint little coastal hometown of Valentine Bay, Oregon.
She loved day trippers. They were her bread and butter. In fact, they made up over ninety percent of her business when she combined them with the people who came for romantic getaways to take advantage of all of the love and “Valentine” themed businesses that her fellow townspeople had started in order to capitalize on the name.
As the couple stepped back out onto Valentine Blvd, the prime street of the downtown shopping district, Genevieve breezed past them and into the shop, her glossy chestnut ponytail swinging behind her. She gave Ella a kiss on each cheek, which made Ella smile, just as it did every time.
“I love coming in your shop,” Gen announced, and before Ella could let the flush of pride she felt completely envelop her, Gen smiled sardonically and added, “In fact, I love walking into any room where my presence is announced by a bell.”
Ella chuckled. That was Gen. She was always “on,” which made her a little bit too much to take for some people, but Ella loved it.
“Are you ready for lunch, G?”
“Holy mother, yes. I’m starving, as a matter of fact. Have you thought about where you want to go? And if you’re even thinking about doing that thing where you tell me I can decide and then just keep saying no to all my choices until something sounds good, let me just warn you, I’m way too freaking hungry for that.”
Before Ella could answer, a huge black SUV pulled into a parking space just across the street. A pair of serious-looking people in dark grey suits climbed out of the vehicle, and there was not a smile on either of their faces.
The small drama distracted both of the women. It wasn’t the kind of thing you saw every day in a small, quaint, touristy town like Valentine Bay, where the streets were barely wide enough to accommodate oversized vehicles and the most exciting activity was the nightly gathering of both tourists and residents on Bliss Bluff to watch the spectacular sunset over the ocean.
“Damn,” Genevieve whispered. “Did we get invaded by aliens last night? Because here come the Men in Black.”
The somberly-clad pair crossed the street and, to Ella’s surprise, stepped through the door to her shop. The cheerful tinkling of the bell as they pushed it open was a stark contrast to their grave demeanors, and Ella laughed nervously.
The sound was cut off short in her throat, though, at the disapproving look the female half of the pair shot her.
Suddenly, she felt about ten years old and, although she wasn’t sure what her offense might’ve been, she had definitely been called to the principal’s office for something.
She cast her eyes down, appropriately chastised, and mumbled, “Sorry.”
Gen elbowed her in the back. Besides being indecisive, the other habit she had that Gen gave her shit about was apologizing when she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Yeah…that’s right. I haven’t done anything wrong!
Ella straightened and looked the disdainful woman in the eye. She was so glad her friend was here. Her level of confidence always shot way up when she knew she had her brash, bold bestie backing her up.
“How can I help you?” she said, proud of the calm strength that resonated through her voice.
The woman flashed a badge so quickly that Ella didn’t have time to read it, let alone process it, then intoned, “Ma’am, we’re here to discuss your husband.”
Ella tilted her head to the side the way a puppy does when it hears an unfamiliar sound. “I’m Ella Fletcher,” she said by way of clarification. The only thing she could come up with was that they had the wrong 5’10” artist with brown eyes and auburn hair…who also happened to be named Ella and owned a shop in Valentine Bay called “Everything Ella” somehow?
Yeah, she knew it didn’t really track, but it was the best her befuddled brain could come up with.
“We’re aware of who you are, Ms. Fletcher, and we’d appreciate it if you’d simply stick to answering our questions.”
“Oh…um, okay,” she replied, properly chastised. “Sorry…what was the question?”
“What can you tell us about your husband?”
Gen snorted behind her. “Other than the fact he doesn’t exist?”
The agent turned her attention to Gen. “Ma’am, I’d like to ask you to wait outside.”
Ella was getting really nervous now. The matter-of-fact, authoritative tone that the woman used—combined with the stony silence of her physically imposing partner—was really intimidating to Ella. She guessed it would be to most people, and that was probably what they intended.
Gen put a hand supportively on her back. “And I’d like to ask you to go screw yourself. I’m not leaving you alone with my friend.”
For the second time that day, and the millionth time since they’d met in third grade, Ella thanked her lucky stars for the bold and brassy Genevieve, who wasn’t scared of anything and somehow made her feel invincible by the sheer power of ballsiness osmosis.
The woman’s eyes sparked, and Ella put her hands up in front of her. Best to diffuse the situation before anyone ended up in a headlock. Knowing G, she couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t be one of the agents.
She made her voice as reasonable as she could. “I think there’s been some kind of mix up. I’m not married. That’s why I’m confused.”
“Ma’am, do you realize it’s a crime to lie to a federal agent?”
“I swear, I’m not lying. I don’t have a husband.”
The woman pulled out a small notebook and consulted it. “You are Ella Fletcher of Valentine Bay, Oregon?” she asked, and then rattled off Ella’s address, age, and social security number.
“Um, yeah. I mean that’s really unsettling you know all that, but, yes, it’s all accurate.”
“Yeah,” Gen piped up, “which makes it even weirder that you’d fuck up something as big as whether she was married or not.”
“Ma’am, I have no idea why you would try to hide it, but we are well aware that you are married to Donovan Valentine.”
Ella’s jaw dropped, followed soon after by her stomach as she listened to the date that the woman recited…fifteen years ago.
Oh, shit.
It was real. It had happened. That night so long ago in Vegas, she and Donovan had actually gotten married somehow, and because they hadn’t thought it was legit, they’d never made any moves to undo it.
“I don’t…I can’t…” she stammered. Her mind swam with all of the reasons the agents might be here. She knew Donovan wasn’t a criminal. His family filled her in on details here and there, and he told her what he could when they exchanged emails. She knew he was part of the Secret Service, but that was about it.
She didn’t know what to say. Should she tell the truth? What if something she said had negative ramifications on his career? She thought the best thing to do would be to get more information before giving any out.
“Why are you asking about Donovan? Is something wrong? Did he do something?”
The agent narrowed her eyes. “Well, ma’am. He got married and didn’t declare it. When confronted about it, he lied. And now that you’re being confronted with it, you’re lying. We’re talking about a person who’s in the room with the President of the United States on a daily basis. Someone who is one of the few people in the world permitted to have a firearm within range of POTUS. And that person is hiding things, and lying about it. Did he do something wrong? I don’t know yet. But you’re damn right I’m suspicious.”
God. The agent’s speech almost had her believing Donovan was some kind of secret agent. Shit. She needed to get her head together. “I can’t talk now,” she blurted.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, but again, Genevieve had her back. “Listen, Agent Hardass. Unless she’s under arrest, she’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
Agent Hardass’s jaw tightened, but after a moment, she snapped her notebook shut and said tightly, “Fine. We’ll be back at the beginning of next week. Be sure that you are ‘ready’ by then.”