I just realized that I've written 21 chapters of Fracture, but I haven't shared a sample with you in a while. It's really been coming along, and I hope to hit the halfway point of the manuscript next week. In the meantime, let me catch you up on the progression of the plot. Here's chapter 6, where we find that there could be more to Kalea, our main character, than meets the eye. Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Kalea sat in a chair on the stage of the high school auditorium, surveying the area with the school principal – a stern, graying man with a perpetual scowl named Darren Henson.

“It just seems that it needs something more,” he grumped.

Kalea took a deep breath, reminding herself that the school district brought several million dollars to the company every year, so telling him to jump in the lake would be detrimental not only to her career, but her financial well being as well. Plus, she was here for an interview with a major magazine about the project. This would get national coverage, and anything that took the focus off her bloody hospital dash and back on her work was a good thing.

“You have the most state of the art theater in the region. Relax, they’ll love it. They wouldn’t be coming if they weren’t impressed.” Kalea swiped her brow and shifted in her stuffy grey and pink pantsuit. She wasn’t used to dressing this formally, and it was still too hot for this in mid-September.

“I wish they would have come this spring when we had a production, and when we’ve had more time to tweak it.”

“Mr. Henson, I can’t tweak it any more. I’ve given you all the power that the grid can give you. It passed inspection. It’s fine.”

He grunted and checked his smartwatch as the first students trickled into the auditorium. Since there wasn’t a production ready to showcase the renovated theater, they arranged to have the interview conducted and filmed onstage with the student body as the audience. Kalea was nervous about that aspect of it. She was used to speaking to small groups, and even on camera regarding larger projects, but the concept of questions from strangers that knew little or nothing about the finer points of engineering that went into the project made her stomach flip. This wasn’t exactly stuff you could “dummy down” to an audience. When it comes to technical engineering concepts, you get it or you don’t. No amount of explaining changes it.

Mr. Henson glanced at Kalea. “Relax, you’ll do fine.”

Kalea smiled weakly. “Is it that obvious that I’m nervous?”

“Yes, but it’s alright. You get used to this.” He cracked a small smile. “Besides, you’ve done a nationally televised interview. This should be a piece of cake.”

Kalea grunted away the cliché as the volume of murmuring voices grew with more students filling in the auditorium.  She fanned herself with her notes. “Maybe I should get our mechanical engineer to see about adjusting the HVAC system in here. These lights do get awfully hot.”

“I already asked. He said he’s done all he can with the electrical load too,” Mr. Henson said. “We’ll have to sweat it out.”

“I’m getting used to that,” Kalea mumbled as the magazine interviewer, a tall, thin woman with short, dark hair and striking green eyes breezed on the stage. Kalea and Mr. Henson stood to shake her hand.

“Kalea, so glad to meet you!” she bubbled, shaking Kalea’s hand so vigorously that Kalea’s black cameo earrings swung. “I’m Veronica Eddings. It’s such a pleasure to meet you and cover what other miracles you’re capable of in Modern Design Magazine!”

Kalea blushed. “I’m better at engineering than I am at running through hospital hallways, if that’s what you mean. But thanks. I’m glad for the coverage, both for the firm and for the school.” She gestured to Mr. Henson. “This is Darren Hensen, the school principal.

Veronica shook Mr. Hensen’s hand and they took their seats. “Thanks for letting me record the interview with the equipment in here. I understand this is the first time cameras on wires have been used outside an athletic facility?”

“Just in the State of South Carolina,” Kalea said, “and it did require a radical redesign of the entire area. The hope is that it will give better quality recordings by capturing a number of angles that haven’t been available at the high school level before. The first official use will be the Christmas program, but the big thing will be the school’s production of Annie Get Your Gun in April. Today’s interview will be the first live test on all of the equipment, and how well it airs on public access stations.

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “So we’ll have a television audience too?”

“No, it’s being recorded for playback on the local access channel ,” Mr. Henson said. “Obviously, we’ll want to do some editing and production work to clean it up. We want to show the public the best work we can do.”

“Of course,” Veronica said, straightening her tan skirt as she settled in the chair. “Let’s go over my plan for today’s interview. I’d like to start with the camera system and how you, Kalea, took arena camera plans to an indoor venue. Then I’d like to move on to the wireless control of lighting and stage effects systems. After that, I’ll move on to Mr. Henson’s vision for how this applies to theater productions, and an open conversation on how this has the potential to revolutionize theater design of all types in the future.”

“I’m not sure about revolutionizing design,” Kalea said. “It’s just a high school auditorium. I’m sure a lot more work needs to be done before it goes large scale.”

Veronica laughed. “You’re so modest! Kalea, that’s why I’m here – to show how you’ve revolutionized design for live action productions!”

Kalea flushed and reached down to scratch her leg, which was itching terribly.

“We’re ready to go in two minutes!” the head of the stage crew, a stocky, blonde teen with glasses, said.

Mr. Henson nodded. “Time to rock and roll.”

Kalea rolled her eyes. Was he going to ruin the interview with these stupid Earth clichés?

What? She thought. She shook off the unbidden thought and adjusted the microphone clipped to her jacket while Veronica gathered her notes and the cameraman flashed his fingers showing the final countdown to recording.

Veronica smiled brightly and stared into the center camera. “Good morning South Carolina, and welcome to Modern Design Magazine Chat Hour. I’m your host, Veronica Eddings. Today, we’re talking to Kalea Kerner and Darren Henson regarding the revolutionary upgrades they made this summer to the Riverside High School auditorium in Columbia, South Carolina.” Veronica turned to Kalea. “Miss Kerner, I’d like to open with talking about the camera system you designed especially for this space. It implements stadium style cameras on revolving wires similar to the camera systems that are used in sporting arenas. How difficult was it to take a design for outdoor use into a limited space like this?”

Kalea took a sip of water and leaned forward. “The design really wasn’t difficult with the system they already had in place.” She gestured to Mr. Hensen. “Of course, we always start with asking Principal Hensen and the leaders on the drama team what their vision is for the auditorium. They are the ones that use it regularly, so it has to be a system that they can operate and can run off the power available to the school without taking from other areas. Principal Hensen told me the primary goal with this redesign was to be able to get better recordings of productions for broadcast on local access television, streaming video reproductions, and acting samples for students that need it for a portfolio to colleges where they plan to study theater in the future. So my goal was to design a system that –“

“Was all the better to see you with,” a voice said from the audience. Everybody turned to stare at the voice coming from a stocky, red-headed young man in the center of the auditorium. He stood and pushed his way to the aisle. “That’s what we really wanted, isn’t it? We wanted people to see us better, to get more public recognition for the school, to show everybody how wonderful we are.”

“Who is that kid?” Kalea asked, squinting in the lights to focus on the man approaching the stage slowly. She noticed that his right hand was in his pocket and he seemed to be fiddling with something.

“That’s not a kid,” Mr. Hensen said, “that’s Dale Zeigler. He’s the drama coach.”

“He’s kind of young for a drama coach, isn’t he?” Veronica asked.

Mr. Hensen shrugged. “He’s been here for three years.” He pointed to Dale. “Mr. Zeigler, did you have a question for me or Miss Kerner?”

Dale laughed, his body shuddering slightly. “Why yes, I certainly do. The question is for you.” He waved his left arm around the room. “Was all of this worth selling your soul for?”

Mr. Hensen’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“All this technology! All this money you spent to show everybody that we’re the best school in the state. All these reasons why you couldn’t afford to give hard working teachers and staff members a decent raise this year.”

Mr. Hensen stood and pointed at Darren. “Mr. Zeigler, that will be enough. I’m sorry you don’t agree with these changes, but we have to take a more long term approach to improving the school. You know salaries come from a different budget. This year, the school board decided to upgrade facilities. I assure you that it will lead to better compensation for employees and staff in the future. You have to be patient!”

“Be patient!” Dale said, laughing. “I have to be patient. I have to be patient while my bank account is empty. I have to be patient while I struggle to put food on the table for my kids. I have to be patient while the bank threatens to foreclose on my house. I have to be patient while my wife has an affair with an architect that flatters her with a lifestyle I can only dream of.”

“Ouch!” Kalea said. “That’s awful. Who’s this architect?”

Dale stared at Kalea with hard, green eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.”

Kalea slumped in her chair when she realized she asked that stupid question right into the microphone. So much for not making a fool of herself yet again.

“Where is the resource officer?” Mr. Hensen asked, looking around the auditorium. “This man needs to be escorted off the property. He’s threatening the safety of the children.”

“The resource officer is indisposed, just like all of you are fixing to be!” Dale pulled a gun out of his pocket and fired a shot into the ceiling. Screams filled the room as students ducked on the floor. Dale jumped on the stage, directly in front of Kalea.

“Don’t believe the lies they sell you!” he shouted, firing a bullet directly into one of the revolving cameras that shattered on the floor in the front row. “They say it’s for the greater good? No, it’s to feed their own ego.” He waved the gun toward Kalea and Mr. Hensen. “These two will get rich while we rot at their bidding! There’s nothing in any of this for us. They don’t care about us. All they care about is keeping us under their feet so they can step on us on their way to the top. Well, no more!” He turned, pointing the gun, a silver .380, in Kalea’s face. “Say goodbye to all of your fame and fortune, witch.”

Kalea’s hand shot up and grabbed the muzzle of the gun, which sparked at her touch. Dale screamed as an electric current ran up his arm, driving him to his knees. Kalea stood up slowly, staring at Dale with hard, black eyes. “This vessel is broken. It must be purged.” Her eyes glowed silver as she bent to touch a red scar on Dale’s hand.

“No!” he screamed, grabbing Kalea’s ankle. A blue spark shot through him, knocking him back off the stage and onto the front row floor. Kalea collapsed into her chair, breathing heavily. She gulped and pulled herself up straight in the chair, looking at the audience staring at her in terror.

“What just happened?” she asked, and passed out.

Hi folks! After sharing the prologue to Fracture a couple of days ago, I thought it would be good to share a chapter where you can get to better know the two main characters. You've already met Kalea Kerner, the main character. Here you meet her cousin, Annaliese Kerner-Boyce. Annaliese is six months older than Kalea. She's a psychiatrist in Washington D.C. where she lives most of the year with her husband, Kieran Kerner, a member of Congress. 

Enjoy!

Annaliese scanned the pick up line outside of Columbia Metropolitan Airport, searching for her cousin’s car. She checked her watch. Four o’clock on Monday afternoon, right on time. Kieran tried to get Annaliese a flight on Saturday, but the President and Vice-President were traveling that weekend, so it was easier for her to wait until they returned on Monday to get her flight privledges. She fanned herself in the sticky summer air. Kalea still had a bad habit of running late. Then again, she should have known better than to wear a black pantsuit and two inch high heeled sandals on the flight. Congressman’s wife or not, southeastern summers are too brutal for formal dress.

Kalea finally pulled up five minutes late in her metallic blue luxery car. Annaliese raised an eyebrow, thinking that her cousin was taking well to her role as a successful business owner – until Kalea stepped out of the car in light blue jeans, a pink shirt, and slip-on walking shoes.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kalea said, reaching up to hug Annaliese. Annaliese stooped slightly into the hug. She was five foot five, but the heels made it awkward. “I just got finished with a school inspection and they ran over.”

“They still make you do that in this heat?” Annaliese said, stashing her bag in the trunk and ducking in the car, where the air conditioner blew her dark brown, shoulder length curls. She knew the flat iron would be pointless in this humidity, so she left it at home, knowing she’s envy her cousin’s long, straight hair hanging obediently down her back.

“School starts Wednesday. We have to make sure it’s safe for the kids to walk in the building by the time the first bell rings.”

“How are you doing?” Annaliese asked as Kalea pulled away from the curb.

“Busy, but I think that will settle down over the next few weeks. I’ve had a lot of catching up to do from the time I missed helping with Uncle Carson over the past couple of months.”

Annaliese drew a sharp breath. “Kalea, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I wanted to and I feel guilty about you having to play my role in this. It’s so crazy up in D.C. between my practice and Kieran fighting to fund his projects with the Commerce, Science and Transportation committee. As chair, a lot of the burden falls on him. The President is still threatening to discontinue the program, you know. Kieran is fighting to keep the Space Program alive.”

“What’s the President’s problem with it?” Kalea asked. “I certainly thought his tirade would end after the controversy and media fallout over his comment on wasting resources on empty space?”

“The President’s supporters on cutting the program claim that the funding would be better spent on building up our military. The unrest in the East is building to proportions not seen since World War II.”

“I know China is involved now, but how will funding our military help? The United States pretty pulled out of everywhere and stopped getting involved in national matters five years ago when Russia and the Middle Eastern alliance started butting heads.”

“That whole side of the world is at war and it’s going to spread. The United States is under pressure from most of Western Europe and Australia to support the cause for democracy.”

“I didn’t know democracy was under attack. I thought it was this three way battle of theocracy, communism and socialism taking over the region.”

“It isn’t now, but no matter what the outcome is, it’s not favorable for democratic governments,” Annaliese said. “A lot of people believe we’re on the brink of World War III.”

“This is why I don’t watch the news.” Kalea laughed. “Of course, if they cut the Space Program and an asteroid smacks the planet and fries us all, all bets are off. Then everybody will be in the hereafter arguing over why we didn’t keep our eyes on the skies.”

Annaliese returned the laugh. “It does seem that the things that undo us usually hit where we aren’t looking.” She looked down, studying her two carat diamond ring and gold, diamond studded wedding band. “I try to help Kieran as much as I can. Some of my clients are well connected, and if I help them personally then they’re gracious with helping politically. Kirean needs all the support he can get to keep the Space Program alive. Most of our technological advances have come through it.

Kalea held up a hand. “You know politics blows up  my brain, so you don’t need to explain. I trust that you’re both busy with matters of National importance.”

“I still should have been here for Dad. There’s no excuse for that.” Annaliese blew a long sigh. “Here I am a psychiatrist, and I couldn’t help my own father.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. His Alzheimer’s was too advanced  by the time the nanotech that could have reversed the damage was released to the public.” She paused. “He’s fine now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I still should have been here more. You’re stronger than I am, to be able to watch this progress day by day. I just couldn’t face seeing my father slip away.”

Kalea smiled. “I’m an engineer. I don’t have feelings. I’m all logic and function, remember?”

Annaliese returned the mock smile. “So are shrinks, but I didn’t pull it off this time. My baby cousin  showed me up.”

“I think six months hardly makes me a baby to you,” Kalea said. “Did Avery give you a hard time? Because he hasn’t been around a lot either. I think it’s ironic that he was fussing about you not being here last week, but before Uncle Carson took that bad turn it had been,” she paused, thinking. “Easter. He came for a three day weekend at Easter.”

“He did get on me a little, but I passed it off as immaturity and his own emotions getting the better of him. He just turned thirty. He has yet to gain our perspective.”

Kalea laughed. “So give him six more years to grow up, eh?”

“Well, the truth is that he did make a point. I felt guilty about not being around ever since Dad fell after the fourth of July. He went downhill fast.”

“He had a subdural hematoma from that fall on the front porch. The doctors didn’t do surgery because of his advanced Alzheimer’s. They thought it might go away on its own anyway.”

“I forgot about that. Does he still have it?”

Kalea shook her head. “They did a scan before they released him last week, and it was gone. In fact, they did a full check-up, and he’s the picture of health. Your father is the man you remember again. Well, mostly.”

“What does that mean?”

“He seems different to me.”

“How?” Annaliese asked.  

“I don’t know, it’s little things. Like sometimes he looks at me like he can see right through me, or like he sees something that nobody else can. And he says strange things sometimes, like he’ll be watching the news and he’ll blurt out ‘what a waste of energy when there are worse things coming.’ Then when you ask what that means, he either  passes it off as a joke, or he doesn’t remember saying it.”

“I imagine coming back from the brink of death has shifted his paradigm significantly. Didn’t the nurses say he only had a matter of hours left just before he woke up?”

Kalea nodded silently.

“When you fight the reaper and win, then I imagine a lot of what we worry about seems silly.”

“I suppose so. You can talk to him and decide for yourself.”

“I will,” Annaliese says. She paused. “I saw your interview Friday night. It was good.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Kalea said sharply.

Annaliese stared at Kalea, shocked at the bitterness in her voice. “Why not?”

“I made a fool of myself. I looked as bad as those people proclaiming that we’re living in the end times.”

“No you didn’t. I thought it was a great interview. But there was a point where you didn’t seem like yourself. It’s when the reporter asked about your scar.”

“I don’t know what came over me or why I said that,” Kalea said. “And I don’t know why that scar flared up like that right before the interview. It had been faint until that day, and they they turn on the cameras and it’s practically neon red.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Have you had it checked?” Annaliese asked.

“I did this morning. They scanned it and said it’s cosmetic. They offered me nanotech to fade it, but I said no.”

“Why?”

“It’s expensive and a scar isn’t worth it, especially if there’s no medical reason for it,” Kalea said, “and I don’t like he idea of robot doing stuff in my body.”

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those types that don’t believe in mixing biology and technology.”

“I don’t believe in doing it indiscriminately, especially for something that isn’t terminal or life threatening. If you body can heal it, let it. Besides, it’s still too new and too expensive. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“I do,” Annaliese said.

“Besides, the body has a remarkable capacity for healing itself. Just look at Uncle Carson. He recovered completely without any nanotech whatsoever.” Kalea smiled mischievously. “You can’t let robots perform all the miracles, can you?”

Annaliese stared at Kalea in surprise at the out of place comment. “So you believe what happened to Dad was a miracle?”

Kalea sombered. “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m certain we’ll all find out soon enough.” She turned on the gravel driveway mostly hidden from the main road. “Welcome back to The Kerner Complex, as the locals call it. Do you want me to take you to your house, or your parents’?”

Annaliese thought as Kalea wound through the road leading to the houses spread out on their five hundred acres of wooded family land. “Take me home. I’d like to unpack and change into cooler clothes. I’ll meet Mom and Dad for dinner. Will you join us?”

Kalea shook her head. “Thanks, but I have to pass. I have some work to do from home tonight. Maybe another time.”

“Maybe,” Annaliese said softly, still staring at Kalea.

“You enjoy some time with them,” Kalea said, her eyes seeming to sparkle in a shaft of afternoon sunlight streaming through the trees. “I’m sure you’ll be amazed at what you find back here at  home.”

Ah, I'm back from vacation and just finished a massive house cleaning. So you know what time it is ...

Time to work on rewrites/edits on Move! That's right, the mystery novel-in-progress is, well, progressing again. Here's a peek at the first chapter where you meet the protagonist, Ruby Josen, and learn a bit more about where we're at and what's going on in the small town of Tanger Falls, Tennessee:

Chapter 1
                 
Ruby Josen wound her way around the people crowded at the end of the buffet table, trying to find a seat at one of the picnic tables while balancing a plate of barbeque, baked beans, macaroni and cheese, and green beans in one hand and a large cup of sweet tea in the other. It was a bright, clear day and Mr. Goodard, the CEO of the firm where she worked, reserved the best picnic area next to the Smoky Mountain National Forest for the annual company picnic. Then again, beating out completion for the space wasn’t hard. Goodard Graphics did all the graphics and advertisements for every business in the Severville and surrounding areas. Although the company was established in Knoxville, the branch office in Tanger Falls, Tennessee, located just outside of Gatlinburg, brought in almost fifty percent of the company’s revenue. It made sense, considering the tourism in the area around the National Forest. Their workload was consistently high. 
                 
“Hey neighbor, what’s up?” Denise Rockwell said, squeezing in the seat next to Ruby. Denise was a graphic artist and looked every bit the part of an artist with her wild, brown hair, deep blue eyes, and bright clothes. Today she was wearing a bright pink shirt and jeans held up by a white belt with so many metal loops that she would never make it through an airport metal detector. 
                 
“Hi Denise,” Ruby said, brushing her long, blonde hair behind her ear. Denise was Ruby’s best friend and neighbor in the one and only apartment complex in Tanger Falls.
                 
“Why are you sitting out here with the wacky artists by yourself?” Denise asked. She motioned to the tables near the podium with a plastic fork. “Why aren’t you up there with the office folks?” 
                 
Ruby glared at the executive staff with sad, blue eyes. “I’m not comfortable being around them.” 
                 
“Are you still miffed about being passed over for the executive secretary position a couple of months ago?”
                 
Ruby looked down. “No, it’s just,” she poked at her baked beans, “Millie isn’t very nice to me. She’s a bully.”
                 
“Is she still giving you problems?” Denise glared at Millie Banks, chuckling at the head table beside Mr. Goodard. A strand of red hair fell from her loose bun, dangling next to her porcelean skin. “I could snap her in half. She’s a stick.”Denise chuckled. “Five minutes in the sun will probably give her skin cancer. Those redheads burn easy.”
                 
“That’s not nice,” Ruby mumbled. 
                 
“Sorry,”Denise said. “What’s the problem? Is she still trying to say you’re rude to customers and messing up work? Because that’s total crap. All the customers I work with say you’re a ray of sunshine.”
                 
“We didn’t get off to a good start,” Ruby said. “I was late getting the paperwork done for one of the vendors when she first started and they got the payment past the due date, so we got hit with late fees. She tore me apart.”
                 
“Ruby, everybody makes mistakes. That could have happened to anybody. And it was what, once in how many years?”
                 
“Eleven years,” Ruby said. 
                 
“Heck, that’s the best track record I’ve heard of.” Denise paused to stare at Millie.“You know, I’ve heard a few of the graphic artists say she’s trying to change everything. A vendor called me last week and said they got their pre-production package digitally, and it nearly crashed their server because the attachments she sent were too big. I had to come to the office, print it out, and hand deliver it myself. Is she doing that a lot?”
                 
Ruby nodded, glaring at Millie. “All the time. I try to tell her that she needs to talk to Mr. Goodard about these changes, or at least with the vendors, but she goes ahead and does what she wants. She’s always telling me I  need to be more innovative and to fully embrace technology.” She snorted. “She talks to me like I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know more than she does. Heck, I’ve been grinding away as their receptionist for eleven years. I was more than qualified for that job, but they brought her in from out of nowhere.” Ruby sipped her tea. “I don’t get it.  Cheyenne said she’d give me a reference. I sure thought the business manager’s word would have weight, especially since she hired me.”
                 
“Did you ever ask Cheyenne about it?” 
                 
“What, no! I can’t do that. That stuff is confidential. She can’t talk about the hiring process.”
                 
“Ruby, quit being a doormat. She promised you a reference. I think it’s perfectly appropriate to ask if she gave it.”
                 
“I don’t know …”
                 
“Just ask her. I’m sure there’s something she can tell you without violating any sacred policies.” Denise looked around and spotted Cheyenne getting a tea refill. “Come on, I’ll get her for you now.”
                 
“Denise, no!” Ruby said, but before she knew it Denise had jumped from her seat and was chatting with Cheyenne. She saw Cheyenne frown and shake her head. Denise glared at her and grabbed her arm, practically dragging Cheyenne to the table. 
                 
“Come on Cheyenne, we just want to talk to you for a minute. Have a seat.”
                 
“I need to get back. I told Millie …”
                 
“Have a seat,” Denise said again sternly. Cheyenne looked at Denise for a moment, then sat across from Ruby. 
                 
“What’s on your mind?”
                 
Denise poked Ruby in the arm. “Go ahead, ask her.”
                 
Denise sighed. “I was wondering. I mean, I know you hired Millie for the executive secretary position a couple of months ago.”
                 
Cheyenne furrowed her brows. “This isn’t about that bill you paid late, is it? Look, I took care of that …”
                 
“No, it’s not about that,” Ruby said, interrupting Cheyenne. “I was just wondering.”She trailed off and looked around. 
                 
“Ruby, what?” Cheyenne asked, irritated. 
                 
“A while back when you were taking applications for that position, you said I’d be an excellent candidate for that position. You even said you’d give me a reference for the job. I was just wondering, did you?”
                 
Cheyenne set her jaw and glared at Ruby. “I don’t recall saying any such thing.”
                 
Ruby’s jaw dropped. “But you did! It was right after Valentine’s Day. You said Mr. Goodard wanted an executive secretary in this office and that my long history with the company would make me the perfect candidate. And you did promise me a reference. You told me to put your name down as a reference.”
                 
“Oh that,” Cheyenne looked around. “I think you misunderstood me. What I said was that I’d understand if you applied for the job and wished you luck. I never said you were guaranteed the position.”
                 
“No, that’s not what I said…”
                 
“And furthermore,” Cheyenne said, cutting Ruby off, “I couldn’t be a reference because I’m your direct supervisor. That would be a conflict of interest.”
                 
“No it wouldn’t!” Denise said. “It makes perfect sense. Besides, don’t people usually call the current supervisor when they’re interested in hiring someone?”
                 
Cheyenne set her jaw again and looked away. “Perhaps.”
                 
“Well, did Mr. Goodard call you after I interviewed with him?”
                 
Cheyenne started to stand, but Denise grabbed her arm. “There’s a question on the table.”
                 
Cheyenne glared at Denise. “I wasn’t aware that graphic artists were familiar with office terms.”
                 
“Oh, I’m familiar with more than you can imagine. Come on, Cheyenne. It’s  a simple question. Answer it and you can go.” She chuckled and nodded toward the head table. “I don’t think the ‘in crowd’ has missed your presence yet.  Now please, answer the question and we might let you get away before they see you consorting with us losers.”
                 
“Fine,”Cheyenne said, glaring at Ruby. “The truth is that I’m not at lliberty to say whether Brett called me or what I said if he did. That’s confidential information and I’d be violating the law and putting my own job in jeopardy if I answered that question. So I’m completely within my rights to say it’s none of your business.” She stood. “I’m sorry you’re upset about getting passed over for the job. You were a good candidate, but I’m afraid Millie was a better candidate. Reality isn’t always nice and I’m sorry. If you feel you can do better, I certainly won’t begrudge you if you decide to move someplace you feel is more appropriate for your life right now. In fact, I wish you luck.” She glanced at her watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some people to speak with before I pick up my son from school.” Cheyenne stormed off. 
                 
“I hope she gets TMJ from clenching her jaw so much,” Denise grumbled. 
                
“That’s not nice,” Ruby mumbled. She looked at Denise. “Thanks.”
                 
“For what? That did no good. All we discovered is that Cheyenne’s a liar.”
                 
“So you believe what I said about her promising me a reference?”
                 
“I’ve never known you to lie before. Now her,” Denise snorted. “Sometimes I think she’s spent the last five years lying to me.” 
                 
“Well, at least it’s not just me.”
                 
“Oh, I think she’s an equal opportunity type of person. She lies to everybody. That’s probably why her husband walked out on her at the beginning of the year. Did you hear about that? I heard he left her a note on New Year’s Day saying he resolved to correct the mistake of marrying her and start a new life. Things are never that abrupt unless something big and nasty happened.”
                 
“Maybe,”Ruby mumbled. She put her head in her hands. “Oh Denise, what am I going to do?”
                 
“I don’t know, but maybe she gave us a clue.” Denise said. “You’ve been here a long time. Maybe it’s time to get out of this rut.”
                 
Ruby threw her fork on her plate. “In this small town, the opportunities to do that are rather limited.”
                 
“Well, you never know what tomorrow might bring. It could be an opportunity for a miracle.”
                 
Ruby snorted. “Or a disaster, like the past five years.”
         
Denise patted Ruby’s hand. “Nothing last forever, friend. Just wait and see. I feel things will change very soon for all of us.”