Chapter 1 - The Paper on the Porch
The morning breeze off Anna’s front porch was cool, but the skin beneath my collarbone still throbbed with raw, tender heat where the scald had set in. I stood behind the screen door, clutching the printed cancellation confirmation from the travel agency. Behind me, Anna stood near the kitchen doorway, her arms folded, watching Daniel and his mother walk up the flagstone steps like debt collectors arriving to claim a foreclosed property.
Daniel’s face had that smug, patronizing set it always wore when he thought he had successfully worn me down through isolation. His mother, Evelyn, clutched her designer handbag against her pastel wool cardigan, her chin raised in haughty disdain. She had practiced her wounded-matriarch routine all night.
"Claire," Daniel began, stopping on the top step without even bothering to look at the gauze bandage peeking above my collar. "You've had twenty-four hours to cool off and act like an adult. Mom didn't sleep a wink because of your theatrics. We're here to get your tablet so you can execute the bank wire before the downtown branch closes at noon. Stop embarrassing us in front of Anna's neighbors."
I didn't step back, and I didn't reach for my keys. Instead, I pressed the paper flat against the glass of the storm door, turning the agency’s bold crimson header directly into Evelyn’s line of sight.
"Take a look at your dream vacation, Evelyn," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering in my ears.
Evelyn squinted, stepping closer. Her thin penciled eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Her manicured finger reached toward the glass, tracing the large, red block letters printed directly beneath the luxury Mediterranean itinerary.
"Reservation Reference #8492-B," Evelyn read aloud, her voice faltering. "Status... Canceled? Daniel, what does this say? Why does it say canceled? The agent told you yesterday that today was the absolute deadline to secure the first-class sleeper train!"
Daniel’s face drained of every drop of color. The arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by an expression of raw, naked panic. He lunged forward, reaching to snatch the paper from my fingers, but I yanked it back behind the locked mesh screen.
"Give me that, Claire!" Daniel snarled, his voice cracking as his eyes darted nervously between his mother and me. "You don't know what you're looking at! You called them? Why the hell would you interfere with my arrangements?"
"I called them because your handwriting was on the invoice with my name as the guarantor," I replied. "And that was when Brenda at the agency told me this booking was officially terminated six weeks ago."
Before Daniel could formulate another lie, my smartphone buzzed against the porch railing. The caller ID flashed brightly with the name of the agency owner.
May you like
I hit speakerphone and held the device up to the screen. Brenda’s voice rang out crisp and crystal clear for everyone on the porch to hear.
"Claire? I pulled the full audit log on that file," Brenda said. "The original European group tour was canceled on October fourth. The eight-thousand-dollar initial deposit was refunded directly into a private checking account, and a brand-new itinerary was created under the same customer profile. Two tickets. One-way flights to Cabo San Lucas, departing this Friday. And Claire... the second passenger's name isn't your mother-in-law."
