2. MORE THAN FRIENDS
The scent of food greeted me as I entered the house. Mom was home early, as promised, with takeout. Cooking wasn’t her thing.
“I’m home,” I called out, closing the door behind me and dropping my gym bag by the stairs. “Mom?”
“Be down in a sec.”
I went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge. As I guzzled it, I glanced out the window at my neighbor’s house, my humiliation returning. I had to go over and thank him for fixing the mailbox. My pulse leaped at the thought, and my mouth went dry.
Think about Eirik… Think about Eirik…
I yanked the cord and closed the slats, then sneaked a cookie from the cookie jar. Chocolate chip, yummy. My favorite.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom said as she entered the kitchen.
I shoved the rest of the cookie in my mouth, turned, and almost choked. Her colorful, flowing skirt, gauzy duster, and matching headscarf were way over the top. Mom was a throwback to Woodstock. She had a flamboyant Boho-chic style, which matched her bubbly personality. But at times, I wished she’d dress like regular mothers. You know, wear jeans or normal pants and tops.
Unlike my boring hazel eyes and dark-brown hair, Mom’s green eyes and pitch black hair gave her an exotic appearance. She was also tall with a perfect figure for someone who didn’t work out. Me? How should I put it? My ass had a mind of its own, and my chest quit on me years ago.
“I’m sorry you had car troubles, sweetie.” She kissed my temple and enveloped me in perfume and other scents that defied description but I’d always associated with her. She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. “Eek, your hair reeks of chlorine.”
“I didn’t have time to wash it. You know, I had to take the car in,” I reminded her.
“You drove it after I told you not to?”
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I had to go and the leak was slow. Really.” I braced myself for a lecture.
She shook her head and cupped my face. “Why do you have such little regard for your life, sweetheart? Do you know what could have happened? I’d hate to lose you in a senseless accident, Raine.”
Like Dad. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t think. I drove slowly. I was even late because of it.”
She sighed and stroked my hair. “What did the shop say?”
“They fixed the leak. Did you see the e-mail about Ultimate Frisbee from Coach Fletcher?”
She frowned. “No. When did he send it?”
I sighed. Mom rarely used her computer. In fact, I’d reached the conclusion that she hated technology. She did inventory for the Mirage by hand and had piles of thick ledgers gathering dust in the den. “I don’t know, but it’s tomorrow afternoon at four.”
“Do we need to take something? Drinks? Dessert?”
Smiling, I shook my head. “It’s Ultimate Frisbee, Mom, not team dinner. How was the store?”
“Other than the broken mirror, business as usual. Go shower. I’ll keep the food warm.” She stepped back, reached down, and lifted a large paper bag from her hand-made crocheted bag. “Sweet and sour chicken, your favorite, and beef and broccoli for me.” She dug inside a bag and pulled out an egg roll, which she dangled teasingly.
I snatched it and munched on it as I headed upstairs to my bedroom. After showering, I changed into sweatpants and a shirt and headed downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, I noticed Mom in front of the mirror in the living room. She was muttering to herself while studying her reflection.
“I can’t do it without Tristan. Our daughter needs both of us.” She swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. She’d never cried since Dad’s plane crashed.
“Mom?”
“Ah, there you are,” she said without looking at me. She moved away from the mirror and hurried toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
I frowned, hustling after her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I wish your father would hurry up and come home.”
My throat closed. “Have you heard something?”
“No, sweetie, but three months is too long for him to be missing.”
Even though he was listed as a missing person and his case was still open, he could have been at the bottom of the ocean for all we knew. I hated to be negative, but every time I visited the website the airline had created for victims of the flight and found nothing new, my confidence dipped. I didn’t know where Mom got her optimism.
She removed the boxes from the microwave and poured herself a glass of wine, which she immediately sipped. “So, what do you want for your seventeenth birthday, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. The usual.” I liked my birthday celebrations low key. I hung out with Eirik and Cora, watched my favorite TV series, and pigged out on pizza and cake. “What is it you and Dad wanted to tell me when I turned seventeen? You made it seem like it was important.”
“Oh, honey.” A haunted look entered her eyes. As though she didn’t want me to see her expression, she put down her wine and unwrapped the chopsticks. “We’ll explain after your dad comes home.”
“Why not now?”
She smiled, reached out, and gripped my chin. “Always impatient. You get that from me. Your father is the patient one.” She let go of my chin, picked up her drink, and sipped. “The story can wait. You’re only seventeen anyway.” She cocked her head, green eyes sparkling. “Let’s do something fun together for your birthday, just the two of us.”
What did my age have to do with anything? I forced myself to focus on her last statement. “Like what?”
“Mani-pedis. I can call Caridee.”
Caridee Jenkins was Mom’s manicurist. I never liked people touching my feet, but maybe this once. “Okay. When?”
“Let’s see. I have to work tomorrow, and you have the Frisbee thing in the afternoon. Do you have plans for the evening?”
“I was planning on hanging out with Eirik and Cora.”
Mom laughed as though to say, what else is new? “Let’s have her come over on Sunday afternoon. We could get facials, too.”
“Can a facial remove freckles?”
Mom’s back stiffened, and her eyes narrowed. Uh-oh, I knew that look. It meant a lecture was coming. I braced myself.
“Lorraine Sarah Cooper, you should be ashamed of yourself. Don’t ever do anything to get rid of your freckles.” She touched my nose. “They are beautiful, like a sprinkle of gold dust.”
I rolled my eyes. She was so biased. My skin would be perfect without them.
When we finished eating, Mom yawned and eyed her bulky bag. As usual, I knew she couldn’t wait to disappear upstairs to take a long bath and relax. She worked hard and deserved it. “Go on upstairs, Mom. I’ll lock up.”
“You sure?”
“I have this covered.”
“You do, don’t you?” She kissed my forehead and picked up her bag and wine glass. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night, Mom.”
Left alone, I checked my phone one last time. Eirik still hadn’t returned my calls or answered my text messages. His silence had pushed me past worry to ticked-off. I sent him one last text, then wiped down the counter and left the house for my neighbor’s.
My heart picked up tempo with each step. What if he hadn’t fixed the mailbox? I’d look like an idiot thanking him for something he hadn’t done. Lights were on downstairs and upstairs, but as I got closer, rock music reached me from the other side of the house.
I followed the sounds to the garage, where Blue Eyes sat on a wooden box and tinkered with a greasy thingamajigger that looked like something one pulled out of a robot. I couldn’t tell where the music came from, but I recognized the classic rock tune. Not bad.
He didn’t glance up or move, yet the music stopped. Magic? No, I shouldn’t even think like that. It was illogical. Magic didn’t exist.
“I thought we agreed to stay away from each other, Freckles.”
I’m not letting him get to me. Not this time. “I plan to, but you fixed the Petersons’ mailbox, so I’m here to thank you.”
“Courteous? You? What happened to the snarky girl I met earlier? Raine with an E?” He looked up, a wicked smile curling his lips. “I liked her.”
I ignored the dig. “How did you do it?”
He wiped his greasy hands on a cloth. “Magic.”
“Don’t start. Magic is not real.”
“Says who?”
“Me. Science. Logic.”
“Okay, Freckles. We’ll play this your way. We’ll say I was inspired, and there’re no heights a man can’t reach when...” he got up, leaned closer, and whispered, “inspired.”
I stepped back. He was overwhelming up close. Vibrant. “Uh, well, I just wanted to say thanks and see how much I owe you for replacing it.”
He pulled a folded manila envelope from the back of his pants and offered it to me. It was the envelope I’d used for the Petersons’ mail, but the letter I’d taped on it was missing.
“Where’s my letter?”
“Check inside. It was a very sweet and sincere apology.”
Part of me was outraged he’d read my letter, but I wasn’t surprised. He was rude. “So how much do I owe you?”
He pushed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, giving me a glimpse of skin around his waist. I quickly averted my eyes before he could catch me ogling him again.
“Let’s see,” he said slowly. “Fixing the mailbox, your car, sitting through tea with the two nosey ladies across the street, and listening to their gossip makes that—”
“You fixed my car? There was no dent on it.”
“Scratches. Mrs. Rutledge and Mrs. Ross believed you deliberately crashed into the Petersons’ mailbox. The scratches would have confirmed it, but I convinced them they were mistaken.”
“Convinced them how?”
“By drinking lukewarm tea and eating rock hard scones.” He shuddered.
I smiled despite myself. “Okay. So how much do you want?”
“I don’t want your money, Freckles.” His voice became serious. “But one day I’ll need a favor and you’ll drop everything for me.”
Put that way, it sounded ominous, like he already knew what favor he planned to ask. I shivered. “As long as it’s within reason.”
“I’ve been told I’m a reasonable guy.” The smile he gave me was slow and so wicked my breath caught. I stepped back.
“Well, uh, goodnight.” I hurried away, but I was aware of his eyes on me.
His laughter reached me when I stopped to check the rear end of my car. Did I really have scratches? How and when had he fixed them? Maybe the motorcycle I’d heard after picking up my car hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. He probably went to DC Tires and spray painted over the scratches. One phone call tomorrow should confirm it.
Magic my butt. He was just screwing with my head.
***
A weird rattling yanked me from a bad dream. I sat up and stared around in confusion, not sure whether I was still dreaming, but the dull hum filling my room was as familiar as the hated freckles on the bridge of my nose. My bedroom was the only room in our house with a vintage fan that droned all night like a plane’s engine. According to Mom, the fan belonged in the junkyard or some metal sculptor’s masterpiece. I disagreed. The fan was one-of-a-kind, like something straight out of a steampunk book, my latest craze.
I glanced at the clock on my dresser. Almost midnight. I’d barely gone to bed. Sliding under the covers, I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to fall asleep.
The rattling came again, and realization hit me. Someone was throwing pebbles at my window. Only one person could wake me up in the middle of the night and get away with it.
Eirik.
I flung the covers aside, ran to the window, and looked outside. He stood under the tree, shafts of street light bouncing off his golden locks, his faithful companion—a Nikon camera—hanging around his neck.
“I’m coming up,” he called.
“No, you’re not.”
“C’mon, Raine.” He started up the tree right by the house where the balcony ended.
“You didn’t answer my calls or texts,” I griped.
“I didn’t have my phone. I still don’t.” For a six-foot-one guy, he was agile. But then again, he’d been climbing up this particular tree since elementary school. I still couldn’t do it without scraping something. He landed on the balcony like a lithe jungle cat and flashed his famous sweet smile, amber eyes begging. “Let me in, please.”
I crossed my arms. “Why should I?”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re dying to know where I’ve been.”
I was, but I had to take a stance. If I’d ignored his calls, he’d be pissed. He had a terrible temper. “Not interested.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls and texts. I was pissed, and my cell phone flew right out of my hand and hit a wall.”
I frowned. “You mean you threw it.”
“If you must be so literal,” he said then added, “Uh, my parents are back.”
The pain in his voice killed all my protests. His parents were cold, standoffish. They were the least loving people ever. I unlocked the window and stepped back, flipping on the light on my computer desk.
As soon as he stepped inside, I hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair. Eirik and I had been inseparable since we were kids. We grew up together and played in our backyards, which were connected before his parents decided one day to add the stupid fence. We’d shared everything, and in third grade, we’d even promised to marry each other. He was my best friend, and there was not a thing I didn’t know about him. His parents had adopted him when he was a baby, but instead of showering him with love and attention, they’d spent most of their time traveling and leaving him with nannies and a housekeeper. He’d spent most of his waking and sleeping hours at our house as a child and that hadn’t changed. Sometimes I wondered how my loving parents could be friends with his.
“How long are they going to be around this time?” I asked, stepping back.
“They’re not. They are talking about moving back home.”
Home was somewhere in northern Europe. I panicked. Dad was still missing, and I refused to lose someone else I loved.
“No. You can’t leave. We promised we’d graduate together, go to college, and—”
“Hey… hey…” Eirik gripped my arms and peered into my eyes. “I’ve spent the last several hours trying to convince them to let me stay.”
“What did they say?”
“They’ll think about it.”
That wasn’t good enough. “I can’t lose you too, Eirik. Not now.”
He chuckled, lifted his camera, and snapped a picture of me. “I’m not going anywhere, worrywart, and your dad will be back. Your mother believes it, and if you haven’t noticed, she tends to be right about everything.” He bumped my arm with his, then placed his camera on my computer desk. “So, can I stay?”
“Like you need to ask.” He used to curl up on the window seat with a blanket, but then he turned thirteen, shot up, and the window seat became too small.
He pulled the rollout bed from under my bed and plopped on top of it. Other than Cora, most people at school assumed Eirik and I were a couple because we did everything together. Not that I cared what anyone thought. I had no interest in other guys, and he hadn’t shown interest in any other girls. He and I would be so great together.
I threw him two pillows and lay on my tummy, so I could look at him as we talked. “You should move in with us. Mom can talk to your parents if you’d like.”
“No, I have it covered.”
He sounded confident, so I nodded. “Okay. About the new guy in your old house, he came looking for you.”
He frowned, amber eyes narrowing. “Torin?”
So that was his name. Torin. It suited him. “Yeah, dark hair, leather jacket, and a Harley.” Dipped in arrogance, I added silently.
Eirik frowned. “He didn’t do or say anything to piss you off, did he?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You wore a weird expression just now.” Eirik put his hands behind his head, and I found myself comparing him to Torin. Both guys were hot in their own way, though Eirik with his blond locks and amber eyes could be considered pretty. Physically, he was leaner and paler, masculine without being overpowering. Torin was taller with a wide chest, narrow hips, and ripped stomach. The guy had zero fat.
“Do you want the lights off?” Eirik asked.
For a moment, I stared at him, my mind a hot mess. I shook my head to rattle my brain back into place. “No. So, what did Torin want?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Why are you staring at me like that?”
He was a sucky liar and tended to fidget, like now. “Like what?”
“Like I’m Pinocchio and you’re the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Who’s Torin?”
Eirik shrugged. “He’s related to one of my parents’ travel buddies, I think. They were worked up about his sudden arrival, which for my parents is pretty unusual.”
Yeah, nothing ever ruffled their feathers, which meant Torin’s people must be important. “So you’ve never met him before?”
“Nope.” He frowned. “Why the interest?”
“You’re fidgety, and that usually means you’re hiding something.”
He gave me an innocent smile. “I’m clean.”
“Yeah, right. How long have you known about your parents’ plans to move back to, uh, where’s their native home? Sweden? Norway?”
“Denmark. I’ve known since last month.” He sighed dramatically. “Can we go to sleep now?”
“Not after that confession.” I sat up. “You knew for a month and said nothing to me? Why?”
He rolled his eyes. “Because I knew you’d stress about it.”
“I don’t stress.”
“And drive me insane like you’re doing right now,” he added. “You’re like a dog with a bone when you go after something.”
“That is so insulting.” I hit him with a pillow. He grabbed it and yanked, catching me off guard. I lost my balance and landed on top of him.
“Get off me,” he grumbled.
“No.” I wiggled to get comfortable, rested my cheek on his chest, right under his chin, and wedged my hands between him and the mattress. He smelled good. He always did. “How come I’m always cold and you’re always so hot?”
“That’s because you’re a girl and I’m… me.”
“Meaning what?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just go back to your bed, Raine.”
“Why?” I asked, pouting. “I’m comfy.”
“I’m not.”
I lifted my chin and studied him. He stared back at me with calm, intelligent amber eyes that could be warm one second and impossible to read the next. He had amazing cheekbones and a jaw that could have been sculpted by a master. His hair was a perfect blend of gold and brown. Chex Mix hair. He’d inspired me to come up with that expression. He really was beautiful, and any girl would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend. So why wasn’t he officially mine? He’d never indicated he wanted us to be more, yet I’ve caught him staring at me with a weird expression.
“We’ve slept together before,” I reminded him.
“We’re not young anymore.”
“No, we’re not.” His amber eyes darkened, and an insane idea popped into my mind. “Kiss me.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I ask you to kiss me and you ask why?”
He grinned. “Absolutely. You don’t do anything without a reason.” His eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing you sneaky little… You’re trying to get out of wearing the T-shirt of Shame.”
He could be such a tool sometimes. Why I desperately wanted him to kiss me now was beyond me. Still, his lack of interest hurt. We’d made a pact that by our seventeenth birthday, if we hadn’t kissed someone, and I mean seriously kissed with open mouth and tongue, we would wear a T-shirt with the words Seventeen and Never Been Kissed. He’d turned seventeen six months ago and worn his T-shirt without an ounce of shame because that was the kind of guy he was. Bold and cocky, but in an endearing away, unlike a certain neighbor. Girls at school had thought it was a joke and stopped him in the hallway, in class, outside school, everywhere to kiss him. The whole incident had started out funny, but it became annoying fast.
“Raine?”
“Okay, you busted me. I don’t want to wear the stupid T-shirt.” I pushed off him, turned off the light, and crawled back into my bed. I could hear him move about as though trying to get comfortable.
“If I thought you meant it, I’d kiss you,” he said.
“Oh, shut up.” He was humoring me now.
Another stretch of silence followed, and I wondered what he was thinking. “You are in a crazy mood tonight,” he said.
He had no idea. “Do you remember the pact we made when we were ten?” I asked.
“Which one? I lost count after the one about not having sleepovers when you grew boobs.”
I giggled, remembering that conversation. “So, why are you here?”
“I don’t know. What pact are you talking about?”
We’d vowed to always discuss anything that bothered us. Torin bothered me in a way I didn’t understand, yet I couldn’t see myself discussing him with Eirik.
“We said we’d apply to the same colleges our junior year,” I improvised.
“Don’t worry about it. We will go to the same school.”
If only I could be sure of myself the way he was. “I think we should choose now and go for early decision. Berkley maybe or… Where are you going?” I asked when he sat up.
“Can’t you see it?” He pointed outside.
The light from the upstairs bedroom in Torin’s house was flickering on and off. Three flashes, pause, one, pause, three. It was a signal Eirik and I had developed and used whenever one of us wanted to talk. “How does he know our signal?”
“I don’t know,” Eirik said, sounding pissed.
“Wait.” But Eirik was already across the room. He opened the window. I followed as he scrambled down the tree. I could see a silhouette in his old bedroom. Torin. The flickering light stopped. Seconds later, Torin opened his front door and stepped outside.
How did he move so fast? Or was there someone else with him in the house? A parent perhaps? I couldn’t climb the stupid tree, so I peered at them from the balcony. Their voices didn’t carry, which only added to my frustration.
After a few minutes, Eirik came back and stood at the foot of the tree. “Throw down my keys.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“I’m heading home. My mother called him.”
I glanced at Torin. He was leaning against the porch pole, his arms crossed and eyes on Eirik as though making sure he left. “I’m coming down there.”
Eirik shook his head. “No, Raine. You’ll break something.”
“I’m not using the tree.” I closed the window behind me, grabbed his keys, shoes, and camera, and crept along the hallway. There was no sound from my mom’s bedroom, but she was a light sleeper. I frowned, hating the fact that I was starting to think of the bedroom as hers instead of hers and Dad’s. Downstairs, I found Eirik waiting outside the front entrance. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to go.” He looped his camera around his neck and slipped on his shoes.
“Why did your parents call him and not me?”
“Because they always assume I’m at the old house whenever I’m not home.” He took his keys, and for a moment, he stared down at me. The silence stretched. I was so sure he’d kiss me, especially when his eyes went to my lips. Instead, he stepped back, lifted his camera, and clicked. He grinned when I scowled. He clicked again. “Night, Raine. See you tomorrow.”
I walked down the driveway and watched him drive off, then glanced at Torin’s house. He stood on the porch, still leaning against the pole, except his eyes were now focused on me.
What was his game? I wanted to march over there and demand answers, but I was too pissed. I turned, entered the house, and crawled into bed. Sleep eluded me for so long and when I finally slept, I had a weird dream I was being chased by something invisible.
***
The scent of fried eggs reached me when I woke up. Dad. He often cooked a special breakfast on my birthdays. Excited, I ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time. I stopped when I reached the kitchen and saw Mom at the stove turning scrambled eggs in a pan. Disappointment rolled through me.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she called out, bangles jiggling on her wrists, her hand-made stone necklace and matching earrings bearing the same weird symbols. “Eggs and toast coming up.”
Smoke drifted from the toaster. I popped the toast out. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I’m doing fine.” She turned off the stove and turned to study me. “When are you wearing your shameful shirt?”
I frowned. “T-shirt of shame? What… how did you know?”
“Sweetie, you’re my only child. Of course I know everything you do, including bets you make with your friends or when they sneak in and out of your room instead of using the front door.” She glanced toward the stairs. “When’s Eirik coming downstairs?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it without saying a world. No wonder the table was set for three. “Since you know everything, you should know the answer to that question.”
She chuckled and glanced at me from the corners of her eyes. “Speaking of the T-shirt of shame, you and he haven’t kissed or—”
“No-oh.” Images from last night flashed in my head, making me blush. “He was feeling kind of sad last night. His parents are thinking of moving back home to Europe, and he’s trying to convince them to let him stay here and finish high school.”
Color drained from Mom’s face, leaving her pale. “Really? I must talk to Sari and Johan.”
“Eirik said you shouldn’t.”
Mom walked to where I stood and rubbed my arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how close you two are.”
“Can he live with us if they let him stay?”
“I don’t know.” She stepped back. “That depends on his parents. If they don’t mind, of course he can stay with us.” She picked up a toast and scraped the burnt parts into the garbage can before scooping the eggs onto two plates. The top side of the eggs looked undercooked.
I tried not to cringe. She was trying, so no matter how gross it tasted, I’d eat it. “About tonight, I’ll need money for pizza and drinks.”
“Okay. Remind me to add money to your debit card, too. Oh, and I’ll buy the cake.”
“Double chocolate with whipped cream frosting,” I said.
She laughed. “Double chocolate it is. Get my wallet, sweetie, will you?”
I rummaged inside her hand-woven bag, found her wallet, and placed it on the table. After pulling out some bills, which she handed to me, she picked up her plate.
“I’ll be home early with the cake. Happy birthday.” She touched my cheek, turned, and walked away, forking her eggs. She disappeared upstairs.
The eggs were so terrible even pepper couldn’t save them. I reached for a toast and smeared it with jelly. I was munching on a piece when Mom reappeared downstairs.
“Bye, honey. Love you.”
My mouth was full, so I signed ‘I love you’. The door leading to the garage closed behind her. I gave her five minutes, then dumped the rest of my food in the garbage and poured myself cereal. I finished eating, tidied up a bit, and headed upstairs.
I had two text messages, one from Cora and the other from Eirik. He must have gotten a new phone or salvaged his old one. They were on their way. I still had to finish my AP English report, but my heart wasn’t really in it. It was my birthday, and I wanted to do something fun with my friends.
After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed my laptop, and settled on my window seat before I remembered Torin. I found myself studying his house. The white slats covering the windows were closed. I wondered how he knew things like the light signal. Could he really do magic? Stupid question. Of course not. Magic wasn’t real.
To prove it, I called DC Tires. No one remembered seeing a guy fitting Torin’s description at the shop or any scratches on my car. Maybe he’d sneaked by them and fixed the scratches when they weren’t looking. Why should I care whether he’d lied or not? If he wanted to pretend he could do magic, that was his problem. Pushing the matter aside, I went online and started my rounds.
First, I stopped by the website of Flight 557 and checked the latest news. There was nothing to give me hope. Next I checked my e-mails and stopped by social and book-related sites. Usually going through new releases, fan fiction of my favorite books, and checking which books were being turned into movies held me spellbound for hours. This time, I kept glancing out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Torin.
Annoyed with myself, I moved to my bed and forced myself to stay there even when I heard his voice mingle with Mrs. Rutledge’s annoyingly chipper voice. Just because I was bored didn’t mean I had to spy and eavesdrop on my neighbors. When the doorbell chimed, I sighed with relief, closed my laptop, and ran downstairs.