Her face lights up. “There she is.” The screen flickers, goes black, and then a couple of seconds later, Mirna’s face pops into a square above Barb’s.
“What’s the Code Eggnog?” Mirna asks in a panic, flushed and breathless. Behind her, a chorus is butchering Oh Holy Night.
“What’s a Code Eggnog?” I ask, blinking. “And where are you?”
“It’s the code for a Finley emergency,” she whispers fiercely, shoving her phone so close I’m staring at her mouth. “And I’m at church.”
“Mother,” a woman scolds sharply in the background. “Did you really answer that here?”
Horror shoots through me. “Wait—you’re actually in the sanctuary?”
“Of course I am.” Mirna’s lip curls. She’s so close I can see her mustache hairs growing back after her last wax. “That’s where I was when Barb called the Code Eggnog.”
“You don’t have to stay in the church, you fool,” Barb hollers, her voice so loud I’m certain half the congregation just heard.
“Mother!” the woman hisses again. “Get off the phone!”
“This can wait until later,” I say quickly, horrified.
“Like hell it can!” Barb bellows—right as the choir stops singing. The silence is absolute, broken only by a single, distant cough.
I go rigid, certain the entire church just heard Barb curse.
The camera swings upward, giving me a dizzying shot of the painted cathedral ceiling while a storm of angry whispers rise in the background. “Excuse me, excuse me,” Mirna mutters as she shoves her way through pews.
The view jerks, heels click on marble until her face reappears—this time farther back. Behind her looms the altar, and a priest in full robes, watching her retreat with a frown that could curdle the communion wine.
I’m mortified but also stunned. If it had been Barb, I’d roll my eyes and chalk it up to another Thursday. But this is prim and proper Mirna.
At last, she pushes through a heavy wooden door and plants herself beside a Christmas tree. “What’s the emergency?” she asks as though it’s perfectly normal to abandon a Christmas Eve Mass mid-hymn.
I make a face. “Do we want to discuss what just happened?”
“No,” Mirna says stiffly. “We will never speak of it again.”
“Why did you answer?” Barb cackles. “You could’ve called me back.”
“You said it was a Finley emergency. Of course I answered.”
My heart swells with love for these two women. “I’m sorry we disturbed you, but it’s not a real emergency.”
“Barb!” Mirna hisses through her teeth.
“Don’t listen to her,” Barb rushes in. “It’s definitely an emergency. She wants to come home.”
Mirna’s face goes blank. “What happened?”
“Alex’s evil brother showed up,” Barb announces, far too gleeful. “He tried to kidnap her, and he and Alex got into a huge fight, and then someone called the police.”
Mirna gasps.
“That is not what happened!” I protest.
Barb squints. “Well, it could have happened.”
I give Mirna the short version, ending with the truth—I just want to come home. When I finish, her lips purse. “I thought you were having fun. Has that changed?”
“No,” I say carefully. At least not until about fifteen minutes ago.
