Broad columns of morning sun filtered between the gaps in the bedroom's blinds. The light poured over the bundled bedsheets beneath the window, every shift of their ocean blue folds casting another speck or two of dust into the shafts of sunlight. Gripped by a stifling, unrelenting heat, the room's air lingered like treacle to slow the movement of the clock's hands to a laboured crawl. On the opposite side of the bed, a half-full glass of water trembled to the beat of distant steps.
Elise dug her way out of the tangled duvet and wrapped her fingers around the glass, wincing at the tang of its tepid water before finishing the rest of its contents in one glug. Squinting at her phone screen through the glaring light, she saw she had overslept by an hour, missing both her usual alarm and whatever efforts her flatmate had made to prise her from her pit. Exhausted, Elise slithered out of her bed and picked herself up in front of her mirror. Her dark, baggy eyes widened at their own reflection, and the tag for her soft pink t-shirt stuck out behind the nape of her neck. The door matched her own groan as she passed into the flat's kitchen.
Sipping at a large mug of black coffee, Robin waved at her from behind the kitchen counter. "There she is," he cheered, raising his mug and indicating a second drink held within Elise's cherry red mug. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto the front of her shirt. "Did you put your top on inside out?"
"I feel like I've been turned inside out, Robin." As she took the red mug's handle, Elise tapped the back of Robin's hand in gratitude. "Thanks again for sitting with me last night. I can't believe I beat myself up so much over a stupid argument, especially one with someone I hadn't seen in years. Honestly, why do you put up with me?"
"To pay the bills, mainly," Robin answered, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he spoke. He ducked behind the counter and scoured through the cupboards, and he returned with a pair of smooth cinnamon swirls kept in a paper bag. "And because that's what friends do. This Cadence wasn't just 'someone', Ellie. She was your best friend once, and out of nowhere she bursts back into your life and dumps her anger on you. It's a lot to handle."
As she took the extra pastry from the bag, Elise stared at her reflection in the dark coffee. "I just don't get how she could still have such a grudge about it. It's been a decade – how hasn't she let it go yet?"
Robin shrugged and took a bite of his swirl. "From the way you described her, Cadence doesn't sound like the type to let things go easily," he said as he set the swirl down and flicked the golden flakes from his fingers. "Look, you two are living your own lives now. You don't ever have to see her again. As much as it hurts right now, maybe Cadence was right, and the best thing for you is to just...move on."
The spiced strands laced within the swirl stirred Elise's senses to life, resurrecting the memory of the bitter shadows that clouded Cadence's shining hazel eyes. Elise took another bite to try and melt into the layers of buttery pastry, yet the image stuck in her mind. "I hope she's okay," she whispered to herself, a heavy weight pressing on her shoulders.
As Elise moved to take another sip of coffee, her phone called out from the side of her bed. She darted from her bar stool to her bedroom door, leaping onto her bed to grab the handset in time. "Hello?" she spoke into the phone, her voice rasped and loud.
"With two shots, Leonard. Two shots. And no milk, damn it!"
Elise adjusted her grip on the handset. "Excuse me?"
"Aha! Finally!" cried the voice down the line. It was a man's voice, slick and smooth like a butter candy, but too unfamiliar to be immediately charming. "Can you put me in touch with...Miss Elise Penrose?"
Elise walked out of her room, her fingers fiddling with the drawstring of her dark blue shorts. "No need, because I am Elise Penrose. Can I help you with something?"
The man made an indefinite sound as a pen scratched across paper in the background. "I sure hope you can," he sighed, leaning back in his creaking chair. "See, I've heard good things about your critical work, kid. Real good things. And I hear you offer editing services too, is that right?"
"It sure is," Elise said, shrugging in response to Robin's unspoken question. "Who is this, by the way?"
"Name's Arin Beaumont, kid, and I've got one heck of an editing job for you if you're up for it." Papers rustled over Arin's desk, and he cleared his throat as he found the right one. "How'd you like to work on the latest novel of a hugely successful and award-winning romance author?"
Staggering back into the sofa, Elise breathed to steady her racing heart. "Did you say award-winning?" she asked as she shook the giddiness from her body. "I'd love to! I mean, I've never worked with someone that high-profile before, but I'd love to try. Just send me the documents, and –"
"Ah, now there's the thing." Arin drummed his fingers on his desk, and Elise flinched away from the phone at the sharp tapping. "My client's sort of a tiny bit of a huge control freak. She won't work remotely with anybody. If you want this gig, you'll have to be able to travel to her home, just outside Bosmouth, on a regular basis. Is that a problem?"
Elise leaned forward in her seat, shuffling to the side to make space for Robin beside her. "It shouldn't be, I suppose. Who's the client I'll be working with?"
"Her human name is Florence Jago," the man said, his smirk audible in his shifting tone. "But you know her by her pen name. In fact, you've already worked a lot with Misty Waters, from the looks of your recent articles."
"Wait, your client is Misty Waters? And you're asking me to work with her?"
Arin cut her off with a deep sigh. "Look, real talk, kid. You weren't my first, second, or even fifteenth-choice. But none of that matters now, alright? The job, and the fee, is yours if you want it, as is the pretty tight deadline. I'll send you the address for Florence's cabin, and I'll be there around midday if you're interested in talking details."
The line went dead before Elise could speak, and her jaw dropped as she stared at her phone's dark screen. Robin scratched the back of his neck and shifted in his seat. "I'm guessing that phone call was as weird as it sounded," he said, guiding Elise's shaking hand to place her phone on the sofa between them. "Somehow I heard you agree to spend time with Misty Waters in person."
"Yeah, you did, and I really did say that," Elise answered. Her eyes darted to her phone screen as it lit up, and she narrowed her eyes at the home address provided for Misty Waters, or Florence Jago as Elise now knew her. "If I want to know more, I'll have to go over to have a chat. Robin, I –"
"Stop, Ellie. I know what you're going to say." With a serious look, Robin took Elise's hand and squeezed it softly. "You don't think you're ready for a big job like this, and you don't think you deserve it either, not when you've seen so many other writers give up. But I've watched you grind yourself to dust pulling all-nighters to meet deadlines for both articles and uni work, and I'm positive you deserve this chance. Is it a lucky break? Sure, but luck is worthless without hard work, and you're more than capable of putting the work in. You're fantastic at what you do, Ellie!"
Elise hid her face behind her hand. "Wow, Robin," she stuttered, her lips broadening into a smirk. "That's so sweet of you to say, but..."
With reddening cheeks, Robin flew up from the sofa and retreated into the kitchen. "No, you're right, it was too much. I was trying to be a good friend, that's all. I'll shut up now."
"You don't have to shut up!" Elise hopped over the back of the sofa and caught herself on the counter. "I always appreciate your support, really. But I was just going to tell you to not run the taps for a bit, because I'm about to jump in the shower. I'm checking out the job!"
As Elise rounded the counter, Robin took her into a large, warm hug. "Yes, Ellie! This is just what you needed," he said, laughing at the sounds Elise muttered into his chest. "Hopefully, Misty Waters hasn't read as much of your work as you have of hers."
Elise shuddered in Robin's arms. "If she has, at least I'll definitely be home early tonight." She looked up at her flatmate's coffee-rich eyes, the smile she found in them passing onto her own face. "Thanks a lot, Robin. You're the best."
"And you're pretty decent yourself, Ellie. You've got this. Just make sure you put your top on the right way round before you leave."
***
Florence Jago's cabin hid on the other side of Bosmouth's woodland, the only marker of its existence being a slender dirt trail through an archway of ancient oaks. After struggling to pedal over the layers of foliage that dominated the path, Elise resorted to walking her bicycle through the overgrowth. She fixed her eyes forward and searched for any sign of her destination.
Her persistence led her to the side of a large, quiet lake. Sunlight spilled across the water's still surface, its beams highlighting the shifting shapes of reeds and flowers that sprouted from the lakebed. Though startled by Elise's arrival, a trio of mallards held their tidy single-file formation and floated towards a flat, mossy bank on the far side of the lake. Elise squinted through the soft mist over the water and spotted the rounded edges of the cabin she sought.
As Elise walked her bicycle around the lake, she spotted the broad wooden boathouse stood beside the cabin, a sleek bottle-green rowboat tucked in its shade. Water droplets glinted in the sun as they trickled down the vessel's hull, yet the boathouse's other dock hid behind a modern-looking shutter. Elise leaned her bicycle against the cabin's side and knocked on the door.
Nobody answered. Raising her eyebrow, Elise glanced at the time on her phone. Even after her battles with the overgrowth, she had arrived two minutes early. She phoned Arin's number from her recent calls, hanging up as soon as she landed at his voicemail.
The air shook, and the ducks spun and took off from the lake's surface. Elise glanced past the side of the house and saw a silver sports car pull up, a man in a royal blue suit jacket and trousers stepping out from the driver's seat onto the hard dirt. "Right on time! You're Elise Penrose, I take it?"
"That I am," Elise said, looking towards the cabin's front door. "Is Ms Jago home? Nobody came to the door just now when I knocked."
Arin shut the door to his car and slid his black sunglasses into the pocket of his crisp white shirt. "Two bits of advice for you, kid," he began as he gestured over to the rear side of the property. "One, call her Florence, not Ms Jago and never Misty. Two, Florence only answers the back door. The front door is just a distraction to weed out the canvassers and cold callers, not to mention the odd shifty type that comes crawling around."
Knocking on the rear door, Elise stared at the crumbling doorframe and weary wall planters. "Does she live alone out here?"
"She would if she could, kid. She wouldn't even talk to me if it was up to her." Pebbles flicked from the back door's step as Arin tapped his foot, soon rolling his eyes and motioning for Elise to move aside. "This is ridiculous. Wait out here for a minute while I go find her, alright? She's in one of her pesky sulky moods again, I bet."
"Is she usually this difficult to get hold of?"
Arin shrugged. "She's a creative. I'd be worried if she wasn't difficult."
The back door swung to a close behind Arin. As Elise loitered outside the residence, a bassy rumble broke through the air from the boathouse. A figure rolled out from the clanging shutter door in a scrappy SUV, its exhaust hacking out fumes even while coasting. Blocking out the midday sun with her hand, Elise tried to make out the driver, yet the vehicle kicked into gear and drove away before she got a good look.
A whistle snuck through the crack in the back door, and Elise turned to see Arin's glimmering white grin and brilliant blonde hair in the doorway. "Fantastic news, kid. Florence is just about talking to people right now. She's in the study when you're ready." He held the door open and nodded for Elise to enter, checking his watch. "Not to rush you, but Florence's social hours don't last forever. They're not even hours, really. Social moments, that's more accurate."
Elise tore her eyes from the open boathouse and sighed. "Here goes nothing, I guess."