“Clever? All that says is that someone is too embarrassed to use their own name. Either that or they’re hiding something.”
Mimi blinked. “Well, all I can say is that nothing this exciting has happened in Whispering Bay since the big robbery at Black Tie Bunco last year. Maybe when Zeke gets back from his police conference he can help you figure this out.”
“Maybe, only I can’t wait a couple of days to start working on this. I think I’ll start by interviewing everyone who’s spent time in the senior center, get their take on what they think. Once word spreads that there’s a journalist investigating the story, hopefully Concerned Citizen will make themselves known. As for the building, Tom has pretty much told me in no uncertain terms that it’s coming down tomorrow. But if I can get one of the owners of the construction company to—”
“Allie!” Mimi jumped off the bed. “Steve Pappas is the owner of Pappas-Hernandez construction.”
“I know. Tom told me. But I’m not sure I can find a way to reach him before nine in the morning, in which case—”
“Steve Pappas,” Mimi interrupted again, “just so happens to be married to Kitty Burke. You remember Kitty, don’t you? She’s a realtor here in town and her grandmother was very big into the Gray Flamingos. ”
“She’s in your Bunco group, too, right?”
“Yep.” Mimi folded the paper and handed it back to her. “First thing in the morning I’ll call Kitty and ask her to ask Steve to postpone the demolition. At least for a day or so.”
For the first time tonight, Allie began to feel hopeful. “You think she’ll do it?”
“Of course she’ll do it. What I can’t promise is that Steve will be able to hold off on that building, but if Kitty asks him, I just don’t see how one more day can make a difference.”
“And I won’t have to deal with Tom Donalan again.” Allie stood and gave her a hug. “You’re the best sister-in-law in the world. You know that?”
“Of course I know that.” Mimi eyes softened. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I was just here a few months ago.”
“Exactly. Way too long as far as I’m concerned. Do you ever think about moving back? Zeke and the kids would love it. And of course, I’d be over the moon.”
There was a wistful tone to Mimi’s voice that made Allie pause. In the past Mimi had hinted about Allie coming back to Whispering Bay, but she’d never been so blatant about it.
Allie chose her words carefully. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to move back here, but there’s really not much for me in the way of work. You know?”
“But you’re still freelancing, right? Couldn’t you do that from anywhere?”
Yes, but she didn’t want to tell Mimi that. “I guess Tampa has me a little spoiled. Small town living just isn’t my thing anymore. Plus, if I do a good enough job with this haunted building story, maybe Emma can expedite a permanent job at the magazine for me.”
Mimi’s shoulders slumped. “Life Goal Number Three.”
“I promise, I’ll try to come home more often,” Allie said. And she meant it. So what if Tom Donalan (and his DNA) were running around town? It wasn’t as if they’d ever have to cross paths again. At least, not after this thing with the senior center was resolved.
After Mimi went to bed, Allie tried to sleep, but she was too pumped up, so she pulled out her laptop and began an email to Emma at Florida! magazine.
Mimi had gotten it right. Allie’s Life Goal Number Three was all about stability. But it wasn’t just about any job. It was about working in an environment in which Allie could grow her journalistic career. Allie freelanced for several periodicals, but Florida! magazine was far and beyond her number one choice for a permanent position. It was an award-winning upscale monthly journal that celebrated the beauty of the Florida lifestyle (the magazine’s tagline). But the real attraction for Allie was Florida!’s editor, Emma Frazier. No one got Allie’s writing like Emma did.
Times being what they were, however, the magazine had been in a hiring freeze for the past year. According to Emma, Allie was number one on the list to be hired whenever a full-time position opened, so for now, she was biding her time, writing the best stories sh
e could find. Which would include this ghost story (if someone stubborn wasn’t standing in her way).
She sent Emma a brief recap of the night’s events, including her plan to try to stop the demolition. Despite the late hour, Emma immediately responded.
Good work. Keep me in the loop.
They emailed back and forth for a few more minutes, then Allie slipped under the covers and turned off the lights. She was exhausted and strangely exhilarated at the same time. Not to mention, just a bit conflicted. The exhilaration came from being on the brink of getting her story. The confliction? That wasn’t too hard to figure out. A ghost story was fluff. Not that there was anything wrong with writing fluff, especially if it had Emma’s seal of approval, but it reminded Allie too much of her Perky the Duck story.
Despite almost seven years of writing stories that dealt with environmental concerns and women’s issues, it was that dang duck story that anyone ever remembered.
Ironically, it had started out as an anti-hunting piece, controversial enough for a magazine like Florida! whose reading demographics included a heavily southern male population. But somehow, the story had evolved into something lighter. And it was that something that had captured the attention of Emma Frazier, as well as hundreds of other readers who had taken the time to email Allie telling her just how much they loved her article.
So while she was certainly grateful to Perky, she didn’t envision herself writing that type of story for the rest of her career. It was like accidentally tripping over a rock and discovering that everyone thought it was the best thing since sliced bread, and now wanted you to continue finding rocks to trip over when what you really wanted was to scale mountains.