Chapter 3 - The Ghost Vendor Wave
Three days passed in an eerie, unnatural silence. Emily stayed in her room, studying for her AP history exams, wearing an oversized hoodie, and refusing to speak to Grandma Carol when she called. I acted completely normal, going to work, managing my accounts, and enjoying the quiet hum of a house free of family drama.
I knew the storm was coming, though. I just didn't know exactly when it would make landfall.
It hit on Thursday afternoon at exactly 2:15 PM.
I was sitting at my glass-topped desk in my second-floor home office when my phone rang. Caller ID displayed an unknown local number, but the area code belonged to the historic Philadelphia ballroom.
I swiped to answer, pressing the phone casually to my ear.
“Hello, this is Rachel Bennett.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Bennett,” a polite, slightly hesitant female voice came through the speaker. It was Sarah, the senior event coordinator at the Grandview Ballroom. “I’m calling because our system flagged an automatic cancellation notice attached to the Madison Vance Sweet 16 gala scheduled for next month. I wanted to verify if this was intentional before we release the date to another client.”
I leaned back in my ergonomic chair, swirling a pen between my fingers. “Yes, Sarah. It’s entirely intentional. The contract is terminated.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Oh! Well... alright. But Ms. Bennett, as for the rebooking rights, since you’ve dropped the reservation, we wanted to check if Mrs. Lauren Vance—the mother of the birthday girl—wanted to assume the contract under her own name, seeing as we require a primary payment method on file to hold the date.”
“You are welcome to call Lauren and ask her,” I replied smoothly. “Though I’d advise you to secure a certified cashier's check upfront. Her credit history is... imaginative.”
“Understood, ma’am. We’ll reach out to her directly.”
The call ended. I didn't even have time to put my pen down before my phone buzzed violently in my hand.
Incoming Call: Lauren.
May you like
I let it ring out. It went to voicemail. Ten seconds later, it started vibrating again. I let it ring out a second time. Then a text message popped up on my screen, written entirely in capital letters: PICK UP THE PHONE RIGHT NOW, RACHEL. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!
I smiled faintly, locked my phone screen, and went back to balancing corporate ledgers. Let her sweat. The real show hadn't even started yet.
