Chapter 4: The Slip

The driver held a sign with my name, and he had already seen the photo.

I knew because he kept glancing at my wrist, and because every "Ma'am" came out very gently.

Red Sand was flat and bright, with a mesa on the horizon the color of rust.

The Crimson Sand pack hall sat at the foot of it, a long low building with a wraparound porch.

Inside, a dozen people stood waiting around a table in the main room.

Six of them were elders, gray-haired and sunburned. The rest were project staff in work boots.

The oldest elder had his phone out. He turned the screen toward the others.

I saw my own refund slip on it, enlarged, with the seven thousand circled in red.

"So this is Nightfall's gold digger," he said, and the room laughed.

"Ten grand on a watch for the heir," a woman said. "And she took the loss."

"Must be a bad year for gold diggers."

I set my suitcases down by the door.

The laughing went on a little longer. Nobody here was cruel, exactly. They were bored, and I had walked in with a story already attached to me.

I looked at the oldest elder.

"Can I see that?"

He blinked, then held out the phone.

I read the slip, then handed it back.

"Seven thousand back on ten," I said. "He's right about the number."

"I saved that money over six months from my own paycheck. Luca paid for none of it."

"Three thousand dollars is what the afternoon cost me. It's also how I found out what was said about me when I wasn't in the room."

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