Had Natalie ever told the woman her name? She obviously must have, but she had no memory of doing it.
“Indeed you do, ma’am.”
“I see.” The woman turned in her chair and cast a cool, appraising look at the young businessman, who leered and raised a half-drunk pint of cheap beer at her in return.
“Hm.” Ada sounded unimpressed. “Well, thank you.” She nodded at Natalie before turning back to her own thoughts.
Natalie returned to the bar, hoping that she wouldn’t have to end up intervening if that annoying bozo started harassing the woman. Quentin glanced between his phone and Ada, as if he were worried about the same thing.
A bell rang from the kitchen, and Natalie went back to pick up the platter of buffalo wings that the businessmen had ordered. When she returned, the blond jackass had left his companions and was sitting over by the piano with Ada. Natalie studied them closely, but the woman didn’t seem at all unhappy to have company. She wasn’t quite acting coquettish, but she leaned forward in her seat as though she found the man interesting.
It simply had to be her job to do so; Natalie felt more certain than ever that Ada was well compensated to entertain awful men like these. Surely she wouldn’t want to spend a second of her time with an annoying prick like that if she didn’t have to. Pity.
Natalie shook her head and happened to catch Quentin’s eye, and the expression on Quentin’s face stopped her cold.
Quentin glanced over at Ada and her new companion and then back at Natalie.
And his look was one of sheer fright.
“Everything OK?” Natalie asked.
Quentin didn’t answer; he stared back down at the bar, as if his napkin had all the secrets of the world written on it.
The table of yahoos quieted down for a moment, and thus Natalie heard Ada clearly as she spoke to the blond idiot.
“Would you like to meet my daughter?”
* * *
-THE END-
Acknowledgments
Over the years, many people in my life contributed the bricks that eventually built Tidepool, and I hope I’ve remembered them all here. If I haven’t, that’s entirely on me.
Thanks first and foremost to my mother Barbara Willson, who found an abandoned short story of mine on my desk when I was a teenager, told me she thought a professional author had written it, and told me I needed to keep writing.
I’ve also appreciated all the kind words and encouragement from my family over the years as I pursued this goal. Special thanks to my always-supportive aunt Anne Buffington and my wonderful in-laws Donna and Bill Murphy.
Mr. Nick Gilbert, my tenth grade English teacher, was always willing to read on his own time any fiction I wrote outside of class. While he was notorious for taking forever to grade tests and papers, he’d return my stories by the next day at the latest, covered with red ink so I’d know he really read them. May every budding writer find their Mr. Gilbert early on.
Larisa Moore and Susan Pitcher were my first critique partners and are dear friends and supportive readers to this day. I still have fond memories of us swapping our typewritten stories and poems before morning assemblies at Holton.
Thanks to Aura Wilming, Sandy Knight, and Geoff Atkins at The Weekly Knob on Medium, and to all the Knobbiers who’ve given me support over the years. Your enthusiasm about my flash fiction gave me a boost when I was laid off in 2016 and needed it the most, and you made me think maybe I wouldn’t be wasting my time querying my novels.
There are not enough positive words in the English language to describe the amazing Brenda Drake and everything she’s done to help writers connect with other writers, mentors, agents, and publishers. Her contests, particularly Pitch Wars and Pitch Madness, gave me so much invaluable insight into the revision and querying processes. And I’ve made lots of friends thanks to the community she established.
Peter McLean, a great writer and my Pitch Wars 2017 mentor, made Tidepool what it is now. He knew exactly what I was trying to do with this novel and what needed to be done to get the book that lived in my head out onto the pages. I am forever grateful for his wise suggestions, his patience, and his unfailing kindness and support.
Thanks to all my Pitch Wars 2017 classmates; your support and smart advice when I’ve had a stupid question or just needed a virtual hug kept me going at times when I was ready to give up.
I’m really thankful for the opportunities to participate in the Borderlands Writers Boot Camp and the Futurescapes Writing Workshop. I’ve learned so much from Ginjer Buchanan, Tom Monteleone, F. Paul Wilson, Douglas Winter and my fellow grunts in Baltimore, and from my Futurescapes instructors and groupmates in Utah.
Thanks so much to Shayne Leighton, Amanda Wright, Chantal Gadoury, Kelly Beyus, Emily Peters, Cindy Kilbourne, Jessica Julien, and everyone else at Parliament House Press for your patience with my endless questions and everything you’ve done to help Sorrow Hamilton get her story told at long last.
Finally, thanks to my husband Bill Murphy for the author photo, for his boundless creativity that inspires me every day, and for listening patiently to all my writing talk over pints at Galaxy Hut. I can’t think of a better person to have been quarantined with for five and a half months.
About the Author
Nicole Willson lives with her husband and a rotating cast of cats outside of Washington, DC; this does not mean she wants to talk U.S. politics with you. She has been a frequent visitor to small coastal towns located along the Eastern seaboard but has yet to see anything truly alarming emerge from those waters, much to her disappointment. She’s hopeful that her lifelong aversion to eating fish or seafood might earn her a little mercy when the hungry ocean gods finally start coming ashore.
Nicole’s flash fiction appears regularly in The Weekly Knob, a Medium publication. Tidepool is her first novel.
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