Page 32 of Capturing You

“Whose phone are you on?”

“I borrowed it from a stranger.”

Nodding, Ford turned his attention to the papers on the desk.

“All right, well… Of course the whole town needs you today of all days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Besides that cop, Ms. Whitmore called.”

Lois was the widow of Arthur Whitmore, the photographer and namesake of the award Brooklynn hoped to win.

“She wanted to know how your shoot went this morning.”

Brooklynn had forgotten she’d texted her mentor the night before, asking her to pray for favor. “Okay, I’ll call her.”

“And Graham Porter came in wanting to talk to you about the Old Home Days booths. The self-important windbag talked for twenty solid minutes, as if I have nothing else to do.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s fine. He did what he always does, pretending to be interested in your photos for his hotel. But we both know he’s too cheap to pay for anything valuable.”

Brooklynn was grateful that her only employee saw value in her work. She wished more people did.

“And Elvis stopped by.”

Ford looked Brooklynn’s way again, eyes narrowed.

Brooklynn imagined his reaction if she told him this particular Elvis was a woman, a sixty-something former flower child who ran a souvenir shop that sold handmade jewelry and seashell art.

“And don’t forget you got a call from the mayor last night. He wanted an update on?—”

“Yeah, I know.” Ian Prescott had roped her into chairing the Old Home Days planning committee. She worked with him and other local business leaders to put together the annual gathering.

Never mind that she’d barely survived the day. Life went on. Somehow, she’d have to figure out how to manage everything from where she was.

“And Owen came in, said he heard a rumor that you were in trouble.”

“Did he say where he heard that? I’m trying to figure out who started the rumors.”

“He didn’t, just asked me to tell you he’s available if you need help.”

“That was nice of him. If he comes back, let him know I’m fine—and that he doesn’t need to worry Delaney with any of this.” Owen and Brooklynn’s younger sister had been dating for a few months. He seemed like a nice guy, though Brooklynn didn’t know him that well.

“Will do. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually, yeah. Could you call Frizzel Automotive and have them tow my Bronco to their shop? Ask them to leave it around the back of their building. It's parked at the top of the trailhead just north of the Ballentine mansion.”

“Sure. I’ll take care of it.” Jewel gave Brooklynn a rundown on the day’s sales—which were zero, so that didn’t take long. “But one couple seemed really interested in the seagull picture. They said they were going to think about it.”

In other words,Thanks, but no thanks.

“That’s it for now,” Jewel said. “You take care of…whatever it is you need to do. Stay safe.”

“Thanks.” Brooklynn ended the call.

“She seems competent,” Ford said.