Love Sincerely,
Rosie
Rosie wanted to write about how she planned to work in movies just like him. She thought about reminding him how he’d sent her the camcorder and promised to come see her first movie. She longed to tell him this was his chance to meet his only daughter. But she didn’t. She kept the letter short, not wanting to say the wrong thing and ruin her chances.
Hovering the cursor over the send key, Rosie blew out a long breath. Her hands were trembling. Mama wouldn’t allow Rosie to call Michael or send him a letter. She always said it was best if she contacted him and told Rosie what he said. Now Rosie was doing the exact thing Mama refused to let her do. It had seemed like such a good idea last night, but at this instant it felt dishonest and sneaky. Looking at the e-mail made her insides ripple. Once she hit send, there was no way to take it back.
The front door opened with a faint scuffle. Rosie froze. She checked the clock on the computer. Mama was home early, way too early. Rosie inhaled a sharp puff of air. It was now or never. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and clicked send.
Mama called her name from the hall. Rosie exited out of her e-mail account, but Mama’s e-mail remained on the computer screen. Rosie scrambled to close out of the account, but the computer froze. Mama called her name a second time, footsteps moving toward the study. Nothing moved on the screen. The little room spun in ever-quickening circles, leaving her dizzy and nauseous. She should never have broken into Mama’s e-mail account; she should never have sent Michael an e-mail. She held down the power button. One second, two seconds, three seconds. The screen flickered. The study door opened just as the computer shut itself down. Rosie stood and exhaled.
“Hey, sugar, whatcha doing?” Mama asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Rosie moved her body in front of the computer. “Oh, nothing. I was just reading.”
Mama gave her a quizzical look. “Were you using the computer?”
“No,” Rosie said, and saw the light of the computer dim out of the corner of her eye. “I mean yes. I was reading on the computer.”
“Is this for school?” Mama asked.
“No,” Rosie said, her eye twitching.
“What for, then?” Mama asked, sharpening in on Rosie.
“It’s a—a secret.” Rosie said the first thing that came into her head.
Mama smiled, but her eyes narrowed. “Good thing I love secrets.”
The bookshelves loomed over Rosie, drawing closer and closer. Everything she’d said sounded suspicious. All she wanted to do was announce that she’d e-mailed her father for the first time ever. But that would only make Mama upset, maybe even angry. Mama might even e-mail Michael and tell him not to come.
Rosie shifted on her heels, wishing she could fast-forward through the next thirty seconds. “I wanted to surprise you. I was researching documentaries because I’m working on a new film about the Miracles, and Mayor Grant said he would show it at the festival.”
The lie slithered off her tongue and wiggled in the air between them.
“Mayor Grant is going to show your documentary at the festival in front of the entire town?” Mama asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Mama said excitedly as she crossed the small study and wrapped her arms around Rosie, squeezing tight. “That’s so exciting!”
Rosie pulled away and stared at the deep scratch across one corner of the desk and the velvety black wick of the candle beside the computer. She stared anywhere but at Mama’s face.
“It’s not a big deal,” Rosie mumbled.
“This is a really big deal,” Mama said, beaming at her. “What can I do to help? Do you need costumes, or someone to hold up the lighting, or script revisions, or a camera operator, or a cinematographer? I’m your girl, or grip, or whatever the right movie term is.”
“I think I’ve got it covered,” Rosie said.
Lying to Mama felt worse than the time she’d cracked her new camera lens in fifth grade. She usually told Mama everything, even when she got a D on her math quiz or when Alison Jones made fun of her haircut. Lying to Mama didn’t come natural, and holding back the true reason for why she was filming the documentary felt like the biggest lie of all time.
“You’re the perfect person for this film. You know the Miracles as well as anyone in Glimmer Creek. I remember you made a whole list of them one summer,” Mama said.
“You helped by telling me about them,” Rosie said softly.
“That’s true. Maybe you should dedicate the entire film to me. I’d like a large screen with just my name on it to start off the documentary,” Mama teased.
“I don’t think so.” Rosie forced a smile.
“At least think about it,” Mama said. “We’ll need potato-chip sundaes tonight.”
Potato-chip sundaes were Mama and Rosie’s celebratory dessert. It was vanilla ice cream, caramel sauce, and crushed potato chips, and it was delicious. But Rosie didn’t deserve a potato-chip sundae, not after what she’d done.
“Darlings, I’ve arrived, and I’ve brought truffles.” Miss Lily’s voice carried from the front door. She appeared in the study doorway in a sequined jacket and silver heels. “You are in for a true culinary treat.”
“What have you got?” Mama asked, gingerly peering inside the paper bag.
“This package of white truffles was delivered yesterday. It’s from an old suitor of mine who lives in France.”
Mama raised her eyebrows. “Miss Lily, do you realize you are holding thousands of dollars’ worth of mushrooms? Those truffles are worth a fortune.”
“Thousands of dollars?” Miss Lily sniffed the truffles. “Good Lord, Pierre really should not have sent this through the postal service. This is what happens when you’re exceedingly beautiful,” Miss Lily said to Rosie. “Men send extravagant gifts. You’ll see for yourself when you get older.”
“Rosie is going to become an Oscar-winning director and send herself extravagant gifts.” Mama double winked at Rosie.
A sharp knife of guilt stabbed Rosie in the rib cage. She swallowed hard and made herself wink back.
“Now, Miss Lily, let’s see about cleaning these,” Mama said. “I’m starving.”
Rosie moved to follow them. Her feet felt heavy, as if weights were attached to the bottom of her shoes. On her way out of the room, she spied Mama’s cell phone on one of the bookshelves. Rosie grabbed it, knowing Mama would be racing around the house searching for it in an hour, having forgotten where she’d left it again.
Except right as she lifted the phone, it lit up with an incoming text. Rosie glanced down and couldn’t help reading: Enjoyed lunch today. I’m trying out that recipe tonight. Thanks for the suggestion.
The text was from Sheriff Parker.
Rosie read the words again. Her heart skipped several beats. Mama and Sheriff Parker had eaten lunch together today?
Gripping the cell phone tighter, Rosie watched the screen blacken. She couldn’t help remembering how Mama seemed too serious this morning when Sheriff Parker came by, and she’d defended him after he’d left. Meanwhile, Sheriff Parker had smiled and acted all friendly for the first time ever. The whole conversation was weird. Even weirder was what Mr. Jack had said about their—their spark.