Maggy was having a difficult time writing her story. Although it started off strong, the flow had suddenly stalled. Now that she realized Trent lived in the beautiful home she’d begun writing about, her mind wavered between creating a story and living the story. She’d begun basing the story on his character, his personality, and she’d incorporated special moments they’d shared together. In some sense it felt like a betrayal and yet on another, it couldn’t have been more real, more perfect…more romantic.
The town festivities were ramping up and each day there was something new offered for locals and visitors alike. She’d watched with glee at the pie baking contest because she’d bid on two (one she figured had to be her mother’s) and the other Alma’s. Her mouth watered at the thought.
Trent was officiating and calling out the winning numbers when a clamour rose and had everyone staring as firetrucks raced on past. She followed the path they were taking and it led t Trent’s house. A plumb of smoke was rising steadily in the sky.
He yelled, “Maggy take over will you?” Without a thought in her head, Maggy rose and took the microphone and said, “On it.”
She attempted a few jokes and eventually, she gained their attention. Her eyes continually darted in the direction the fireman had taken and it was undoubtedly on Trent’s property. Her concern was who was responsible for what had happened and a chill ran the length of her spine when one man’s name came instantly to mind.
As soon as the events were over, she moved to her parent’s side. “It’s Trent’s isn’t it?”
“Yes, dear, it is.”
“You know what I think.”
Her dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “I’m afraid I do and with just cause from what you’ve explained.” Pausing he added, “Let’s hope it’s not that sinister.”