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“I’ve got enough problems with my family,” Ambrose said. “I reached out to theLost Night Filesteam instead.”
“Which, if your family ever found out, would make them think you really were in desperate need of a vacation in a locked ward.”
“No sense pushing the issue,” he agreed.
“What did you tell your family after that night?” she asked.
“That everything was fine. I said I was on medication that was resolving the sleep issues and that I was late on a book and had to drop off the grid for a while in order to focus on getting it done. Told them to contact my assistant if there was a real emergency.”
“Did that work?” Pallas asked, intrigued by the idea.
“No.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“The only option is to block everyone in my family. I can’t do that.”
“I understand,” Pallas said. “Family is family.”
“The main reason I haven’t tried to block them is because I know it wouldn’t work,” Ambrose said. “If I really did disappear they would all come looking for me. I’d have even more problems than I’ve got now.”
“I understand. So you are in the rather awkward situation of concealing secrets from the people who love you and are very anxious about your mental health.”
“I am, indeed.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you are not alone,” she said. “Currently my family thinks I’m pursuing yet another harebrained career dream. They’re afraid I’m obsessed with becoming a social media star.”
Ambrose raised a brow. “They don’t seeThe Lost Night Filesas a great career move?”
“I’ve got a long history of being the bad example of career planning in my family. I’m the failure everyone points to when they need an example of what not to do when it comes to achievement and success. I lack focus, discipline, and common sense.”
“Yeah?” Ambrose looked interested. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She sighed. “I come from a long line of doctors, scientists, and academics. In high school I told everyone I wanted to be an artist. They were appalled.”
“Too flaky?”
“Well, that and a lack of talent. In college I wandered aroundtaking classes in a bunch of different subjects. Everyone said I had failed to focus. Finally, I signed up for a psych research test that was supposed to help me find the right career. Afterward I talked to a counselor who said the results showed I should become an interior designer. The family was not happy, but they calmed down when it became clear I was good at the work. Then came the business and personal fiasco with Theodore Collier, Architecture and Design. Then came Lucent Springs. Then came my decision to get involved in a podcast that focuses on the woo-woo stuff. In fairness, one can understand my family’s concerns.”
“Yes,” Ambrose said. “One can. Your family sounds like they have a lot in common with my family. I took a career guidance test in college, too. Afterward the counselor said I was doomed to be a writer. My family pointed out that I had better get a day job. I got several of them before I ended up at Failure Analysis. I was doing well there. The family was thrilled. And then I sold my first book and promptly quit my very good job.”
“From what I can tell your first book did well, and so did the second one.”
“Yes, but my career will fall off the same cliff as yours if I don’t finish the third book and the one after that and the one after that.”
“I understand,” Pallas said. “Believe me.”
“We do seem to have a few things in common,” Ambrose said.
“Probably just a coincidence.”
“I thought I made it clear, writers are not big on coincidence,” Ambrose said. “Editors don’t approve of them. It’s considered lazy plotting.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The fog thathad been lurking off the coast earlier had seeped into town while they were at dinner. By the time they left the restaurant and started walking back to the hotel, the mist had enveloped Carnelian. Ambrose found himself savoring the atmosphere and the feeling of being alone in another dimension with Pallas. He wondered if she felt the same sense of intimacy or if it was all his imagination. Probably the latter.
Dinner with Pallas had not been a date, he told himself—more like rations shared with the woman who happened to be trapped in the same foxhole. They had both needed to eat, so they had eaten a meal together. No big deal. Besides, it was good to talk openly with someone who didn’t look at him as if he was delusional.
