Page 31 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
“So I was sweeping, right?”
“Apparently.”
“And I wanted to get under the chairs and tables—”
“Sure, why not?”
“Shut up,” I say. “So then I moved the other armchair, the one that’s over by the windows—”
“Naturally.”
“And there was this envelope underneath.”
“Okay. What envelope?” He sounds more awake now.
“It’s just a standard white envelope,” I say, looking at it clasped in my hand. “Totally normal. But there’s a sticky note attached that has a message on it. ‘You’ll not get a penny more out of me, you old hag. I’ll make you regret this,’” I read. “That’s what the note says.”
“‘You’ll not get a penny more…’” Soren says slowly.
“‘Out of me, you old hag,’” I finish with a nod. “‘I’ll make you regret this.’ Yeah. That’s what it says.”
“And inside the envelope?”
I cock one eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“Not…is it money?” he says, and his voice is incredulous. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe.
“Yep,” I say. “A bunch of it. Cash.”
“How much?”
“Give me a sec.” I sandwich the phone uncomfortably between my shoulder and my cheek and then do a quick count. “One thousand,” I say.
“Denomination?”
“Twenties.”
“Okay,” he says, and his voice is musing as he goes on, “okay. Got it. But what makes you think this has anything to do with Carmina?”
“Oh,” I say. “Her initials are on the envelope. Sorry, I forgot that part.”
“Her initials are written on the envelope? Or are they on the sticky note?”
“They’re on the envelope, but the sticky note is stucktothe envelope.”
“Hang on,” Soren says. “I’m going to video chat. This is confusing.”
“What?” I squawk, sounding like Jojo. “Don’t video chat me!” Doesn’t he know I need time to prepare mentally for any and all video correspondence? I need to check and make sure I don’t look stupid. I need to make sure this lighting doesn’t give me a double chin. I need to take some deep breaths and remind myself that people do video calls every day, all over the world, and they manage fine.
But it’s too late; my phone is ringing once more, my startled expression staring back at me as my video connects.
“Soren,” I groan as I answer, and his image pops up. “You can’t just—just—”
But I break off, swallowing. Then I lick my lips.
Why is my mouth suddenly dry?
Soren is shirtless, and he looks like he’s in bed, like I thought; there’s what looks like a pillow propped up behind him. His hair is loose, mussed but perfectly golden, and for a moment I flash back to that day we met for the first time—when I burst in on him in the bathtub. This isn’t a high definition video; things are a little pixelated. But even so…
