Page 9 of Silken Chains
“Thompson. Laura Anne Thompson,” I fill in, and his eyes flit over the ruins, making a silent tally of despair.
“Ms. Thompson, we suspect the fire started from the pantry area,” he continues, glancing toward the dark, ash-coated room where I used to sneak snacks during the slow hours. “Our preliminary investigation suggests an electrical fault might’ve triggered it. We found some faulty wiring, quite ancient, running through the place.”
So, it wasn’t the ghosts of old authors or a grudge-bearing rival bookstore. It was something as mundane as decayed wires deciding to bow out with a spark.
He glances around one more time before locking eyes with me. “We’re still investigating, but you might want to contact your insurance company. Provide them with the initial findings; it will expedite the claim process.”
His words clang around my head like loose change.
Insurance. Claims. Dad.
My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. “Thank you… Officer…?”
“Bennett. Firefighter Bennett,” he replies, with a nod.
I give him a weak smile, grappling for composure. “Thank you, Bennett. I appreciate your efforts.”
He seems to sense my internal struggle. “Fires are destructive, Ms. Thompson, but they can also pave the way for new beginnings. Thompson Tales of Fifth Ave might rise from these ashes, stronger.”
His words should be a comfort, but all I can think of is the impending call to my father, the dance of disappointment, and the blame game.
“Yeah,” I answer, attempting to inject some optimism into my voice, “a phoenix, right? Rises from the ashes and all that.”
Bennett smiles, a gesture that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, filled with the somber knowledge of things lost and battles fought. “Exactly. Take care, Ms. Thompson. If there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Damnit, I need some fresh air.
I stumble out of my charred shop, only to spot bystanders with phones out, snapping pictures and shooting videos. Great, just what I need—the paparazzi moment I never asked for. Because apparently, having your life go up in smoke isn’t enough; it needs to go viral, too. Talk about hitting rock bottom with an audience.
Great, Laura, now what?
I chew on my nails, a nervous tic I’ve never managed to shake. Dad’s going to find out, and the thought of breaking the news about the store? That’s a conversation I’m not looking forward to.
Fuck.
Then, my eyes get caught on something else. A sleek, dark sedan, far too luxurious for this part of town, sits conspicuously across the street… It screams money, looking like it took a wrong turn from Park Avenue and ended up in my less-than-glamorous neighborhood. My store’s been here for years, and I’ve never seen this car model, not once. It’s positioned perfectly, like it has a front-row seat to my downfall.
“Enjoying the view?” I quip under my breath, my voice laced with bitterness.
As if on cue, there’s a click. Someone’s emerging.
But before I can put a face to the mysterious car owner, Serena’s voice cuts through the fog. “Lu Lu! Holy hell, are you okay?”
Turning, I find my best friend Serena hurrying toward me, her vibrant curls bouncing with each step. Her face is a mix of concern and shock. “Ser,” I croak out, tears threatening to spill, “it’s all… just gone.”
She wraps me in a hug, a warm protective cocoon against the world’s cruelties. “We got you, LuLu. Oh, my God. Thank God you are okay.”
Pulling away, I glance back toward the sedan, but all I see is an empty parking spot. The car vanished.
“Was there…?” I start, pointing vaguely to where the sedan had been.
Serena follows my gaze, her brows knitting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
The pit in my stomach grows. “Nothing, it’s just… Never mind.”
Chapter 4
Victor
