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Gold Bars and Tin Stars
Gold Bars and Tin Stars
Gold Bars and Tin Stars
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Gold Bars and Tin Stars

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Arizona, 1891...Trouble just rode into town--twin sisters from 2011.
Twins Jill and Joanna Mason have kept their visit to 1193 secret for the last two years. When Jill’s boyfriend proposes, she decides to tell him everything, but his reaction makes her wonder if their relationship has a future. Meanwhile, Joanna despairs of finding Mr. Right in any time period.

The sisters escape to Arizona where they’re transported to the Wild West. Immediately they’re caught in a fast-paced adventure with runaway stagecoaches, bandits, shootouts, stolen treasure, dynamite, and murder. While Jill organizes a gang of gunfighters to protect an orphanage, Joanna investigates a prominent citizen’s death with the help of the town marshal who may not be all he seems. Plot twists, danger, and romance abound as the twins are tempted once again to remain in the past.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 15, 2015
ISBN9781310931680
Gold Bars and Tin Stars
Author

Michelle Lashier

Michelle Lashier writes adventure, mystery, and time travel novels with a dash of humor and romance. Formerly a high school and college writing teacher, she has a B.A. in English from Southern Adventist University and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from National University. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Find Michelle on the web and get a free ebook: www.michellelashier.com.

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    Gold Bars and Tin Stars - Michelle Lashier

    Minneapolis, Minnesota

    September 17, 2011

    Assured that the crowd outside the restaurant was armed with non-lethal amounts of birdseed, Joanna Mason opened the door for the bride and groom to dash to their limousine. She had witnessed this scene so many times that it no longer held any romantic fascination for her. Instead, she scanned the guests, looking for something to blog about this evening. While readers appreciated her how to plan a dream wedding on a budget tips, her posts on the random stupidity and insanity inherent at nuptial ceremonies got the most hits.

    Since this had been a small wedding and the reception had lasted four hours, Joanna knew the faces of the guests, which is why she noticed the wedding crasher right away. He was in his early fifties, had sandy-brown hair, and wore a suit jacket but no tie as he stood back from the front line, clutching a bag of birdseed. Since removing him now would only cause a scene, she let him be for the moment but would alert the restaurant manager as soon as the newlyweds were safely away on their honeymoon.

    Thirty minutes later, Joanna slipped into manager Rhonda’s office and pulled out the black bag she had stored there.

    They’re all yours now, Rhonda, Joanna declared.

    It’s kind of unusual for you to be free on a Saturday night, Rhonda observed. Any big plans?

    My boyfriend is in town. Joanna kicked off her heels and slipped on more comfortable walking flats. "I’m meeting him for dinner at Le Chevalier."

    Rhonda whistled appreciatively. I hear they’re booked months in advance. How did he manage that?

    He owns it.

    This is the British guy, right?

    Yes…well, he’s half French which sort of explains the restaurant.

    Isn’t your sister dating his brother?

    Half-brother. Same mother, different fathers. Gavin’s dad died when he was little, and his mother married an English petroleum baron.

    Rhonda whistled appreciatively. They must be loaded. So, when’s your wedding?

    It’s not like that. We’re keeping things casual.

    Why would you want to do that? This guy sounds like marriage material.

    Joanna paused to consider the statement. Gavin was handsome, rich, smart, and charming, but she had trouble imagining herself married to him. He loved his job more than anything else, thought her blog was silly, and still hadn’t read her novel that she’d published a year ago.

    That’s a telling pause.

    Joanna shrugged. I’ve been burned a few too many times. Two years ago I promised myself I’d be more careful where men are concerned. Until I find Mr. Right, there’s no point in settling down. I’m young, and I have plans.

    Gavin isn’t Mr. Right?

    I’m unclear about that.

    Rhonda shook her head. Seems to me you should know.

    Joanna had a feeling she already did. Once outside the restaurant, she considered if she should hail a taxi or walk the five blocks to Le Chevalier. Although she was tired, she wanted some fresh air and needed the time to make the mental transition from work to pleasure, so she decided to walk.

    She surveyed her gray pencil skirt, matching gray blazer, and yellow blouse—not exactly a date outfit, but driving home to change seemed pointless when Gavin only had a few hours in town. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved her compact mirror to check her appearance. Her wavy, dark brown hair hung below her shoulders. She was glad she had decided to grow it out from the bob cut she had worn two years ago. Her complexion was a bit flushed from the heat of the restaurant, but her makeup still looked good and highlighted her brown eyes.

    As Joanna moved to close the mirror and return it to her bag, she caught the reflection of a man walking behind her—the wedding crasher. A chill ran down her spine as she debated what to do next. She stowed her mirror and pulled out her cell phone. Holding the phone as though she were texting, Joanna tapped an icon to reverse the direction of the phone’s camera and snapped a few shots of the man over her shoulder. Then she called Gavin. Maybe he could pick her up in the car.

    Her call went straight to Gavin’s voice mail. She could notify the police, but she decided against it. They wouldn’t get here in time, and she was only a block from the restaurant.

    Rounding the corner, Joanna saw the line of people waiting to get into Le Chevalier. A glance at the reflection on her cell phone screen told her the man was still following her, but he wouldn’t dare attack her with all these potential witnesses. She skirted past the line, waved to the valet parking attendants who recognized her, and entered the restaurant to speak with the maître d’.

    Miss Mason! So nice to see you again! Mr. Fountaineau hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll have a waiter show you to your table.

    Although Joanna could have found Gavin’s table on her own, she followed the waiter up the stairs through the dimly lit restaurant to a table for two on the second floor by the window. The waiter pulled out her chair while someone else brought her usual beverage. As she sipped the drink, she kept out her cell phone and pulled up the photos she had just taken. They were blurry, but hopefully they would be enough for the police to go on if she reported her stalker.

    A movement across the room caught her eye, and she looked up to see Gavin Fountaineau walk in. Tall, thin, and dressed in a black suit and shirt but no tie, Gavin surveyed the room with the pride of ownership. Her chest tightened at the sight of his short brown hair, smoldering gray eyes, and brooding brow.

    Hello, darling, Gavin greeted, his voice as smooth as honey. He leaned down to kiss her cheek before taking a seat across from her. Have you been waiting long?

    Not really.

    Gavin’s cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to check it. Did you try to call me a few minutes ago? Sorry I missed it.

    She wanted to tell him about the man who had been following her, but she paused as she considered that Gavin might have hired the man himself.

    How are your parents? Gavin asked.

    They’re fine. Dad’s been caught up in the city infrastructure repair, and Mom still sees clients thirty hours a week. How’s your mother?

    Well. She’s in Johannesburg for a month.

    With the ambassador?

    I assume so.

    You haven’t talked to her?

    We call when there’s something important to discuss. Speaking of which, I’ve read your book.

    Joanna raised her eyebrows. You told me you didn’t like to read.

    My aversion to reading is a matter of time, not taste. You’re quite good. I found the characters intriguing. The older sister Maggie reminds me of you.

    I concede there are similarities.

    Tell me about her love interest, Guy of Gisbourne. Where did your inspiration for him come from?

    Someone I met a long time ago.

    I couldn’t help but notice the parallels between Gisbourne and…well, myself.

    Joanna laughed to hide her discomfort. Are you sure that’s not just wishful thinking on your part?

    Possibly. He reached across the table and took her hand. But I’d like to be someone you write about.

    The shift in his mood reminded Joanna of a man from the past who had tried to win her affections but failed. Fortunately, the waiter’s arrival with their first course interrupted the moment. As Joanna plunged her spoon into the soup, she noticed her hand was trembling.

    You know, Joanna, Gavin began, one of the many things I’ve appreciated about us is that we require so little of each other. But despite our agreement to accept each other as we are, I’ve sensed an obligation growing.

    Joanna put down her spoon to rest her shaking hand on the table. Is this the part where you break up with me? Because we can’t break up if we were never in a formal relationship to begin with.

    You’re rather defensive tonight.

    I can’t tell if you’re teasing.

    I’m sorry, darling. Gavin’s tone became more charming. That speech sounded better in my mind than it did when I said it. I spoke of obligation, but I was thinking about myself. When I read your book, I felt like I was being introduced to a Joanna I’ve never met before, but she’s someone I’d like to know better.

    Joanna swallowed hard. How much better?

    He opened his mouth to answer when Joanna recoiled at the sight of the wedding crasher at a table in the back corner of the room.

    What’s wrong?

    Joanna related seeing the man at the wedding and how he followed her to the restaurant. Gavin turned to look, watched the man for several seconds, then smiled at her.

    I’m sorry he frightened you, but he’s nothing to worry about.

    Who is he?

    FBI.

    What?

    Try to keep your voice down, Gavin cautioned. We don’t want to make a scene, do we?

    Joanna forced herself to speak more softly even though her heart raced. "Why is the FBI following me?"

    They’ve looked at my phone records, know I call you, and want to observe our meeting tonight. I’ve had a whole brood of them underfoot everywhere I’ve gone for the last three weeks. Gavin took a sip of his drink.

    They’re following you too? Joanna ran her fingers through her hair. Why are you being investigated?

    I believe there’s concern I’m engaged in illegal activities.

    Are you?

    Gavin smiled. They won’t find anything.

    Joanna slouched back in her chair. She was going out with someone who was being investigated by the government. If the FBI was following her, they probably had a file on her. While she had done nothing illegal and had nothing to hide, her privacy had been invaded, and it was Gavin’s fault. What was he involved in? What might he be dragging her into?

    The waiter took away the soup and brought the next course. Joanna wasn’t feeling hungry anymore and hardly noticed what was on the plate in front of her.

    There’s nothing to worry about, Gavin assured her as he ate. These things always blow over.

    Always? This has happened more than once?

    It’s a normal part of running an international business. You expect governments to be afraid they aren’t receiving their share of your profits.

    So this is about tax evasion?

    There’s no need to bury yourself in the details, darling. Aren’t you hungry?

    Joanna pushed her plate away, feeling sick from so much information to process. Not really. I shouldn’t have said I’d meet you after a wedding. I’m always exhausted.

    But I’m only in town this evening, and I wanted to see you.

    Were you going to tell me about the FBI?

    Gavin opened his mouth to reply when his cell phone buzzed again. Silently, Joanna willed him to ignore it.

    Excuse me just a minute. He stood, clutching his phone. I have to take this.

    She took a ragged breath as he walked out of the room and up the stairs to his private office. What sort of business was he involved in that he could never refuse a call?

    Of course, the call might be from another woman. Joanna had suspected for months that Gavin had a girlfriend in every major city where he did business. The idea of being his Minneapolis mistress made her want to vomit. Was she ever going to learn to stay away from men who lied to her, cheated on her, and in the end left her for someone else?

    Joanna?

    She recognized the voice immediately. Resisting the urge to hide under the table, she took a deep breath and smiled at Mark Scheittenberg, her old boyfriend, standing beside Joanna’s table with an attractive woman on his arm.

    Mark. Joanna forced herself to be polite. It’s been a long time.

    But not long enough. Only two and half years ago she had believed Mark was Mr. Right, but he had broken up with her via text message on the same day her writing group kicked her out. Joanna and Mark hadn’t spoken since although she had followed his career with envy.

    How have you been? Mark asked.

    She wanted to punch him for acting so concerned. Fine. I haven’t met your friend.

    Oh, I’m sorry. This is my wife, Bridget.

    Joanna’s stomach dropped when he said wife. This exact situation—being unmarried when meeting an old boyfriend with his wife—was one of her recurring nightmares.

    I heard you wrote a book, Mark offered.

    Yes.

    What major publisher picked you up?

    I published independently.

    Mark and Bridget exchanged a glance that told Joanna exactly how little regard they had for self-publishing.

    Have you done a book signing? Mark asked.

    No.

    That’s good you’ve spared yourself that. His patronizing tone gave her fantasies of smashing his head on the pavement. They’re very taxing—so many questions, all those adoring fans. It’s easy to get caught up in the adulation and forget we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

    And take them off too, Bridget added with a laugh.

    I prefer the media interviews over the book appearances, Mark continued. "When NPR did a piece on me, the journalist asked a lot of intelligent questions about the nature of my art that were very stimulating. I’m currently revising my third novel for publication next summer. It’s a follow-up to last year’s release, A Fundamental Fool. Have you read it?"

    No.

    "Maybe you saw the review about it in The New Yorker, Bridget suggested. What was the phrase? ‘Mark Scheittenburg’s sophomore novel is a literary masterpiece that challenges the boundaries of experimental fiction and provides a telling commentary on the disillusionment of twenty-first-century America.’"

    Absolute garbage, in other words, Joanna thought. That’s nice. So, Bridget, how did you and Mark meet?

    Bridget gave Mark an adoring glance. It was three years ago. We saw each other across a crowded library, and it was love at first sight.

    So this was the woman Mark had left Joanna for, the woman he had been seeing secretly even before the breakup. Men who cheated would cheat again. Bridget was probably already supplanted by someone younger, blonder, and perkier. Joanna allowed herself a smile at this thought.

    Are you here alone? Mark gestured toward Gavin’s empty seat, half-eaten meal, and glass of wine.

    No. I’m seeing the owner Gavin Fountaineau. He’s on the phone right now.

    If Gavin hadn’t taken the call, he would have been present when Mark walked by, and this entire encounter would have gone very differently. Joanna glanced at the stairs and willed Gavin back into the room.

    I’d love to meet him, Mark said. This is a fantastic restaurant. You probably eat here a lot.

    Yes, you know how millionaires are.

    Mark looked thoughtful. Funny, I pictured you with someone more academic. But tell me, what’s your little book about?

    It’s a mystery adventure novel set in the twelfth century.

    "Ah, a genre piece! I never read those. Mark’s tone was dismissive. Perhaps after you’ve had more practice you’ll write something more literary."

    Like you?

    I do what I can to add to the literary canon. Are you still a wedding planner?

    I am, but I’m blogging about it as well. I’ve had several humor pieces go viral.

    I blog too, Mark replied. It’s one of my publisher’s requirements, but I focus mostly on social injustices, politics, and whatever intrigues me at the moment.

    Remembering how she had barely tolerated Mark’s stream-of-consciousness rants on similar subjects when they were dating, Joanna doubted he had a significant following.

    Good for you, she lied. It was great to see you. Bridget, a pleasure to meet you.

    You as well. Bridget’s fingers clutched Mark’s upper arm. Enjoy your millionaire.

    When the couple was gone, Joanna raised her glass to her lips but had to use both hands to keep from spilling her drink.

    Sorry about that. Gavin was back at the table. Are you all right? You don’t look well.

    I just ran into an ex-boyfriend and his wife.

    Was it a difficult encounter?

    You could say that.

    Shall I go after him and defend your honor?

    You missed the moment in more ways than one. Will you take me home?

    Of course. I’ll have the car brought round.

    Gavin texted his driver to meet them in front of the restaurant. Joanna took his arm as they walked out of the restaurant, the FBI agent following at a respectful distance.

    Once they were in the car, Gavin rolled up the glass that separated them from the driver and took Joanna’s hand.

    I know you aren’t feeling well, but I’m only here tonight, and I was hoping we could continue our conversation from earlier this evening. When we first met, you said you had no interest in settling down. At the time, that suited me. But I’m not satisfied any longer. I’d like to pursue a future with you.

    How do you define future?

    Seeing each other more often. I could send the jet to pick you up on weekends when you weren’t working. We could meet in Rio, Nice, Venice, Shanghai—wherever I was at the time. I’d like something more consistent with a little more commitment.

    Are you proposing a monogamous dating relationship?

    Gavin chuckled. You’re so clinical. But yes, I suppose that’s what I’m suggesting.

    How many other women have you proposed this exact same arrangement to?

    How recently?

    Joanna pushed him away and crossed her arms.

    I would have given up the rest a long time ago if I thought you were ready for a commitment, Gavin protested.

    This was the first time he had openly admitted to having multiple mistresses. The fact that he hadn’t stopped seeing them in advance of tonight angered her. Did he really think she was enough of a fool to commit to a man who was just like every other loser she had ever dated?

    I don’t often have the privilege of seeing you speechless, Gavin commented. I hope that means you’re considering my offer.

    For a moment, Joanna allowed herself to imagine what life would be like dating and eventually marrying Gavin. She would be rich, visit exotic locations, and never have to work again. She would enjoy occasional blissful moments when Gavin treated her like the center of his universe. But his business would always come first, and no matter what he said, there would always be other women. Any children to come from their marriage would share in her disappointment when Gavin missed soccer games and school plays to close a business deal.

    There was also the FBI investigation to consider. She knew very little about Gavin’s business. What if he was a crime boss or a drug dealer? She didn’t want any part of that. Nice as it would be to have money and someone to support her writing dreams, she didn’t want that life with Gavin.

    I can’t do it, Gavin. I’m sorry, but you and I…it’s not right.

    I’ve caught you by surprise. You might change your mind after you’ve had time to think.

    I’ve enjoyed our occasional dates, Gavin, and I’ve even referred to you as my boyfriend. But this relationship—you and me—is not going to happen.

    Is this about the FBI? That will blow over soon.

    Yes, it’s about the FBI, but it’s also about the other women and how you always put business and money first. I deserve to be number one in a man’s life, not second or third. I haven’t completely figured out what I want for myself yet, but I know a life of distrust and fear isn’t on the list.

    So that’s it, then.

    Yes.

    They spent the rest of the drive to her house in silence, each staring out the windows and avoiding the other’s gaze. When the car pulled into the driveway of Joanna’s townhouse, she noticed a gray sedan she’d never seen before parked on the street. The FBI appeared to be staking out her home.

    Gavin walked her to her door and kissed her under the porch light. If you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting.

    I won’t. Joanna didn’t believe he would wait longer than tomorrow before pursuing someone new.

    She went inside and locked the door behind her. From the window she watched Gavin’s car pull away and then a few seconds later, the gray sedan left as well. Joanna sighed with relief.

    Pulling the blinds closed, she kicked off her shoes and turned on the stereo, selecting the western album from her favorite band, the Backwater Bandits. It didn’t matter that the group had disbanded long before she was born. Her parents had played the western album repeatedly on long family road trips when Joanna was a kid.

    She smiled at the opening guitar riffs and sang along. Changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt, she reclined on the couch with a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon.

    A gambler once told me that he’d make me rich;

    I just had to enter the game.

    Too late I was wise to his card-playing ticks,

    And now I’ve no cent to my name.

    What a fool! Gambling fool!

    There’s no game you can win

    When you’re playing against

    Those who cheat

    And who lie.

    Isn’t that the truth? Joanna thought. No matter what she did, she could never win as long as she dated men like Gavin.

    An outlaw once told me that he’d mend his ways;

    No more would he live by his gun.

    But he killed three men by the end of the day

    And still lives his life on the run.

    What a fool! Trusting fool!

    Bad men promise to change,

    But they’re always the same

    For they cheat,

    And they lie.

    She had been right to break things off with Gavin. No matter what he promised, he wouldn’t have changed for her.

    Now I’m not as wide-eyed as I used to be;

    I’ve learned we’re all playing a part.

    Everyone in the world was pretending to be someone else. No one could be trusted—Joanna included. She was just playing at being a wedding planner when she wanted nothing more than to write, but her meager contribution to the literary world was like a drop in the ocean—no one cared, and even worse, no one noticed.

    But I will not stop searching or longing to find

    A true love to trust with my heart.

    Joanna felt her throat getting tight. She was silly to spend this much time pining over a man—any man! But even as she acknowledged that letting Gavin go had been the right choice, she also knew she didn’t want to be alone forever.

    What a fool! Lovesick fool!

    But I’ll always believe

    Someday love will find me

    If I wait,

    So I wait…

    As the last chorus played, Joanna set the ice cream aside and gave in to the tears she had been fighting all evening. She would get over Gavin just as she had every boyfriend before, but tonight, she felt like true love would always be out of her grasp.

    2

    Houston, Texas

    September 14, 2011

    Jill Mason stood in the middle of Sherwood Forest, the green canopy of oak and birch trees rising far above her. She smelled the loam and the damp from a recent rain and heard the brook gurgling nearby. Beside her sat Robin Hood wearing a green doublet and leather leggings. His blue eyes twinkled as he removed the medallion from around his neck and hung it around hers, saying, Now you’ll be with me forever.

    The chain dug into her flesh.

    It’s all right, Robin assured her. This is where you were meant to be. Just accept it.

    Jill wanted to go home. She had to find Joanna, find her parents, find her boyfriend Rob Goodwin, but she couldn’t speak.

    I’m the only man who can offer you what you really want, Robin continued. That’s why you have to stay.

    The weight of the medallion dragged her to the ground, chaining her to Sherwood Forest. She was sinking into the soft earth as though it were quicksand. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t. She reached out for Robin, but he only laughed. Then, he wasn’t Robin Hood at all but his modern-day doppelganger, her boyfriend Rob, wearing jeans and a polo shirt.

    Rob, help me! The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

    Rob laughed. You don’t need my help. You can get out on your own. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?

    She struggled to breathe as she sunk to her neck. Suddenly on the side of an oak tree, she saw a red light flashing in time with an obnoxious buzzer.

    Jill awoke with a start to smash the off button on her alarm clock. Panting, she switched on the bedside lamp, reminding herself that she was safe and in the twenty-first century. The clock read 6:30 a.m. The medallion in her dream, the one Robin Hood had given her two years ago, still hung in its shadow box on the wall. About the size of her palm, the medallion had green gems embedded around the outside. In the center, intricately cut pieces of semi-precious stone formed the crest, an open gate with a falcon flying through it. In its talons the falcon clutched a sword and bundle of arrows.

    Jill shivered at the sight of it. This was one of her most prized possessions. Even though she had refused Robin Hood’s proposal, he wanted her to keep the medallion. She had been wearing it several days later when back in the twenty-first century she boarded a plane in London and discovered the man sitting next to her wore a ring with similar heraldry. Without that medallion, Rob might never have started a conversation with her that eventually led to Jill dating him. Those were all happy memories. Why she was having nightmares about Robin Hood or her current boyfriend puzzled her.

    Although this was the third time she had experienced this nightmare, she was no closer to understanding it. Her twin sister Joanna, who read dream dictionaries regularly, would point out the symbolism of the warning light, the quicksand, and the way Robin Hood and Rob kept morphing back and forth into each other. The two men looked almost exactly alike after all, except that Rob didn’t have a beard and demonstrated a lot more maturity than the famous outlaw.

    Joanna would also have something to say about the weight of the medallion, probably a nod to Jill’s fear of commitment. Rob had made vague references to the future in the past few months. Theoretically, Jill agreed that the future included Rob and her together. But practically, she preferred to focus on the current moment in which she and Rob enjoyed some sort of adventure together, whether it was kayaking, archery, horseback riding, or exploring one of the properties his family owned overseas. Yes, she and Rob had a good time together. No silly nightmare would get in the way of that. She turned up the volume on her radio and hopped in the shower.

    As she ate breakfast a half hour later, a text came in from Rob.

    Calls from London started at 5 a.m. Hope you got more sleep than I did.

    Jill chuckled, wondering what he would say if she told him about her nightmares. But she wouldn’t, of course.

    Could’ve been better. When will you be back?

    His response didn’t come until she had finished her breakfast and brushed her teeth.

    Looks like late Friday night. Are we still on for Saturday?

    Jill sighed. She hadn’t realized until this week how much of her life revolved around Rob. When he was away, she didn’t know what to do with herself. This was pathetic. She had successfully entertained herself for twenty-five years before she met Rob, but a week without him felt like forever.

    Even as she responded, Yes, looking forward to it, she wondered how she could wait two more days, especially when she had no idea what he had planned for Saturday. He had hinted at some special surprises, but she hadn’t pressed for more information. Jill prided herself on being low maintenance. The key to a successful romantic relationship was having a life outside the relationship, staying balanced, going out with friends, and making sure her world didn’t revolve around the boyfriend.

    But wait…didn’t her world revolve around Rob?

    It hadn’t always. After Jill’s time with Robin Hood’s merry men, she had made an effort to befriend the guys at work and had enjoyed a jovial camaraderie with them that involved occasional platonic activities such as movies or paintball. But once she and Rob had started to get serious, she had let her friendships slip.

    Her phone buzzed, indicating another text message.

    Don’t have too much fun without me.

    Was Rob being sarcastic? Was he implying she was incapable of having fun without him? Well, she would show him. In these next two days, she would book her social calendar so full she wouldn’t have time to answer Rob’s frequent text messages. She had a life apart from him, and she was going to prove it.

    With that resolution in mind, she came to work armed with evening show times for the latest science fiction movie and ready to put together a crowd to see it.

    When the three other engineers who shared her office rolled in a few minutes later, Jill made more contributions than usual to their discussion of last night’s TV shows.

    Hey, anybody interested in seeing a movie tonight or tomorrow? Jill asked when the discussion had reached a natural pause. "Apollo 18 looks fun. We could make fun of it Mystery Science Theater 3000-style."

    The three men exchanged glances. We went to see it last Saturday night.

    Oh. Jill tried to look casual and play it off. Sure.

    We were going to ask you, one said, but you mentioned you were going out with Rob. I think you guys were spelunking last weekend…

    Right, yeah. Of course. Jill felt like an idiot. So, was it any good?

    Nah, it was dumb, another said. You didn’t miss anything.

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