Page 34 of Story of My Life
Laura:Update! Felicity says Cam is at Heart House with the two circus escapees and our prodigy mayor!
“Seriously, Felicity?” I called over my shoulder as I marched for the front of the house.
Gage:I’m hearing reports that two women ran over Goose with an Escalade and then smashed into the town sign about half an hour ago. But I have it on good authority that Goose is still alive since he threw a fish head at Dad fifteen minutes ago.
Laura:Should we worry? Is Grumpy Brother in stranger danger? Do I need to call in the Bishop cavalry and by cavalry I mean Mom?
Levi:Most recent Cam sighting. Still alive.
He shared a grainy zoomed-in photo that showed me standing in the side yard of Heart House, scowling at my phone.
I turned around and extended my middle finger in the direction of Felicity’s house. “You need to get a real hobby, Snyder!”
“Why would I do that when you’re so entertaining?” she called back.
“Stop texting my family everything.”
“You, uh, done flipping the universe the bird, buddy?” Darius asked from the porch steps.
“Almost.” I waited another five seconds before a new message arrived. It was from Laura, and it was a picture of me giving Felicity the middle finger.
Laura:Proof of life.
Gage:Looks normal to me.
Levi:Tell Felicity we said hi.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and followed Darius inside.
Memories, like ghosts, flickered to life the minute my boots hit the double-herringbone parquet floors. Dorothea and Isabella. The smells of fresh drywall and warm cookies. The echoes of raspy laughs. It was the same with every corner of Story Lake. Every block contained at least a dozen memories. Knocking on doors to sell crap for school fundraisers, late-night baseball games, doing yard work for spare cash with my brothers. The driveway where Levi had hit Gage in the head with a snow shovel. The nursery addition on the Landry place that we’d built together as our first official job.
Darius clapped his hands as Hazel and Zoey joined us in the arch-ceilinged foyer. “The previous owner was?—”
“Dorothea Wilkes,” Hazel filled in for him.
“I love a woman who does her homework,” the boy wonder said, patting his chest.
She seemed amused. “It’s kinda my job.”
“When Dorothea passed, she willed the property and her seat on the council to the town. You’ll get to serve out the remaining two years of her term. And the town will get to use the money from the sale for infrastructure updates.”
“How much work is involved with a seat on the town council?” Zoey cut in. “Hazel is going to have a very busy schedule.”
“It’s a full-time job,” I lied.
Darius coughed out another laugh. “Ah, there’s that Bishop humor again. It’s only an hour or two a week, max. Mostly emails. Then there’s a monthly meeting that’s open to the public.”
That was an outright lie. If someone had a problem, the monthly council meetings could go on for hours. And someonealwayshad a problem, which they would want to discuss with you at length anytime they saw you around town. Andconsidering the size of Story Lake, that was an almost daily occurrence.
“Now, on your right, we have the parlor with the original marble fireplace surround.” Darius directed everyone through the black walnut–cased opening into a room with a soaring tray ceiling and peeling rosebud wallpaper. Everything was covered in a thick coating of dust.
There were a few pieces of furniture clumped together in the middle of the room and hidden under dust covers. A pair of stained-glass windows decorated with hearts flanked the fireplace.
“Wow. You could set a body on fire in that hearth,” Hazel said reverently.
I shot her a look, and she winced. “Sorry. I’m a writer. Not a professional murderer.”
“Hazel writes best-selling rom-coms,” Darius explained to me.
