1
Jacqueline
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number. Yes—no, I realize you dialed the number listed for the pizza parlor, but something’s wrong with the interchange and I’m afraid… This is the sheriff’s office, ma’am, I’m afraid I really can’t take your pizza order.”
Jacqueline rubbed her forehead as the caller let her know just how unacceptable that was. This is what I get for taking the evening shift, she thought. That storm must have seriously messed with the phone lines. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the boss when he said it was all sorted…
She bit back a sigh, careful not to let even a hiss of breath escape. The last thing she wanted was the woman on the other end of the line thinking she was sighing at her. Even if it was kind of the truth.
If the pizza-woman had been the first wrong number to call her today, that would be one thing. But no. The storm a few days back had come up from Hideaway Cove to the south, and like all bad weather that came from that direction, it had left havoc in its wake. Not only broken shutters and saltwater-whipped gardens, but electrical mix-ups. Computers went haywire, lights flickered… and phone lines got crossed.
The sheriff’s office landline had somehow become mixed up with that of a pizza joint on the other end of town—and an auto shop, and the local kindergarten, and what felt like half the businesses within ten miles—and as if that wasn’t enough, the connection was bad.
At least, Jacqueline assumed it was the bad connection that was making this caller squawk like a seagull descending on a garbage bin.
She rubbed her forehead, waiting for the woman’s rant to come to an end.
“I—oh. You’d like to make a formal complaint? About me not providing you with an appropriate level of service? Well, you go right ahead, ma’am. We have a contact form on our website, or… you’d like me to type it out for you? Of course. That will be no problem at all.”
Jacqueline gritted her teeth as the woman on the other end of the line dictated a list of Jacqueline’s many sins. Including not taking her damned pizza order. Why don’t you blame me for the weather, as well?
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll make sure the sheriff receives this when he’s next in. Excuse me?” Jacqueline blinked. “Well, he’s…”
At the Spring Fling, celebrating the fact that winter’s finally over. With the rest of the office, and most of the town… and my ex.
Jacqueline swallowed. “…He’s out on another call at the moment, ma’am. But I’ll put your note on his desk for his priority attention.”
There was a dangerous silence at the other end of the phone. Jacqueline thought the woman was rallying her strength for another attack—and then the other phone clattered against something, and the noise of excited shouts clamored down the line. Jacqueline closed her eyes. A teenagers’ party. Something the town put on to keep them out of trouble while everyone’s at the Spring Fling getting respectably tipsy… and this woman’s stuck babysitting. No wonder she’s annoyed.
“Ma’am—”
“Forget about it. My neighbor has brought over snacks. No thanks to you.”
Jacqueline’s breath caught in her throat as the woman slammed the phone down. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she set down her own receiver. Gently.
It doesn’t matter how good it would feel to slam it down. You know Reg would take any breakages out of your pay.
And she couldn’t afford that. She was done. All the scrimping and saving, all the extra hours and odd jobs and humiliation—she just had to wait for her final check to clear, and it would all be over. She’d have finally paid down her home loan.
She’d be free. Free to reclaim her life. Leave this crushingly small town and do all the things that had passed her by.
And no way was her first home-loan-free paycheck going to go towards replacing broken office equipment. She was going to cut loose. Stay out late at clubs, wear short skirts and too much make-up, all the fun things she’d spent the last decade and a half missing out on. No ball and chain, no mortgage, no responsibilities—
She flung herself back in her chair and spun around. When she stopped, she was looking straight at the oversized, framed family photograph that took pride of place on her boss’ desk.
Five pairs of eyes stared back at her. Reg, his wife Susie, and their three beautiful children.