Lora Carterpom's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Lora sat at the kitchen table with her phone face-down, staring at the notification she'd already read three times. The message was from someone she hadn't heard from in eight years — someone who'd been in the studio the day Marcus told her the masters were gone. Her chest felt tight. She needed to know if this was an ally finally ready to talk, or if Marcus had sent bait to see what she knew. She picked up the pink heart-shaped chocolate box Mrs. Lophalf had left on her counter yesterday. Lora carried it outside and placed it on the garden bench where the path forked toward the forest trails. She positioned it carefully, the heart pointing left. Then she texted back: "Meet me at the bench by the fork. You'll know which one." Anyone who'd really been her friend back then would remember her habit of leaving little markers — chocolates, scarves, sheet music — to signal which practice room she was in. Marcus wouldn't know that detail. By tomorrow morning, she'd have her answer. Either the box would be moved to show they understood, or it would sit untouched and she'd know to stay silent. But Chloe appeared on the porch before Lora could walk back inside. Her daughter's eyes tracked from Lora's face to the chocolate box on the bench to the phone still in Lora's hand. "Who's coming over?" Chloe asked. Lora smiled wide and easy, the way she always did when the real answer needed to stay hidden. "Nobody yet, baby. Just thinking about old friends." Chloe nodded slowly, her gaze sharp as a referee watching for offsides. She turned and went back inside without another word. Lora stood on the path between the cottage with its rosy blooms and pink-shingled turret and the bench where tomorrow would bring either proof or danger. The plan wasn't blown, but it had moved closer to the surface. She couldn't afford another slip. Inside, Lora found the ornate microphone waiting in its case at the bottom of her closet. She'd kept it wrapped in velvet for years, never showing the kids. The message sender had mentioned it specifically: "Still have that mic we used for the demo sessions?" Only three people knew she'd taken it home that last day. If this was Marcus testing her, he'd picked the wrong detail. But if it was real — if someone from back then was ready to talk — she'd need proof that she still had the recording from those sessions. Lora photographed the microphone's gothic curves and iridescent patterns, then deleted the photo. Not yet. She'd wait for the chocolate box to move first. Tomorrow would tell her if Marcus knew she was coming, or if she'd finally found the witness she needed.