Page 96 of Remember Me
The voice on the other end grows suspicious. “Who is this?”
“My name is Scarlet Callahan. Please let Ms. Farrell know that I’m a close friend of Skye Collins.”
“The newscaster who died a few years ago? The one she was going to do an interview with?”
“Yes. Please let Ms. Farrell know who I am and tell her to call or text me. It’s urgent.”
Silence. My pulse kicks up a notch, unsure if the assistant is going to be cooperative or tell me to piss off.
“What’s your cell number?”
A flood of relief sweeps through me as I spew it out. He repeats it back to me.
“Yes. And, Gene, I can’t emphasize enough how urgent this is.” About to say, “It’s a matter of life or death,” I instead add, “And I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
“Sure. I’ll contact her right away and ask her to get in touch with you.”
A smile blooms on my lips. “Thanks, Gene. You’ve been awesome. I hope big things happen to you.”
The call ends. Now it’s time to play the waiting game.
***
When I return to the kitchen, Finn is there, freshly showered, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt. Holding a mug of coffee, he paces the room, his phone to his ear. Tension lines his forehead.
“Daddy’s not in a good mood,” Maddie tells me. “He’s talking to yucky Kayla.”
Just the mention of her name bunches up my stomach, adding to my angst. My ears tune into his conversation.
“Kayla, tell Sheldon he can’t have the nude. No matter how much he wants to pay for it.”
Sheldon Greenberg wants the painting of me? His tone sharp, Finn continues.
“It’s not for sale. Period. And Kayla,no,I can’t pick you up right now and take you to the gallery. I have to supervise the movers, who are bringing over the last few canvases.”
Finn’s jaw tightens as he listens to her reply. “The same to you.”
Have a nice day.Or.Screw you.The way he abruptly ends the call, it’s likely the latter. Despite my anxiety, I can’t help a smug smile. Shoving his phone into a pocket, he catches sight of me. His face relaxes a bit.
“Hi, baby. I’m sorry. Just some last minute bullshit.”
Maddie giggles. “Daddy, you just said a bad word.”
Finn slaps his forehead. “Snap! I didn’t mean to.” He turns to our housekeeper. “Rosita, would you please get Maddie dressed and then take her for a walk on the beach?”
“Sí, señor.A gleeful Maddie jumps off the stool and pirouettes out of the room, Rosita trailing her.
Once they’re gone, Finn and I gather at the island, seated catty-corner to one another. Lifting his fork, he stabs at his cold, soggy pancakes.
“I’ll make you some eggs,” I say softly, my fingertips brushing across the top of his hand.
“Don’t bother. I’m not really hungry.”
The tension etched on his face eats at me. “You’re worried about tonight?”
“A little bit.” He takes a sip of his coffee, which is probably cold too, then sets the mug down. “I’m more worried about you. Did you reach Nicole?”
I relay my conversation with her agent’s assistant. Guarded optimism, but with each passing minute, I’m losing hope. For all I know, she may be out of the country. Inaccessible. Just as I’m about to share my growing despair, my phone pings. A text. My heart thudding, I glance down at the screen. A text. It’s from her! Nicole Farrell!