“Go change out of your uniform” Eve instructed Abby, shutting the boot of her car. Abby scurried into the house as fast as her 6-year-old legs would carry her. Eve paused before closing the garage door. She ran her fingers across the new banner on the back windscreen and smiled with pride at how professional her business name and number looked. Soon she’d be able to quit her waitressing job and run her business full-time.
The buzz of the phone startled Eve as she stood deep in thought at the kitchen sink, cleaning the dishes. “Who is it?” she asked as Abby peered at the screen from her perch at the breakfast bar.
“It says Unknown” she answered, returning to her colouring.
Eve wiped her hands on the teatowel and picked up the phone. Hi was all the message contained. Who’s this? She typed back.
Unknown: John, I’m looking at a Photographer.
Me: Do you mean FOR a Photographer?
Me: What can I help you with?
Unknown: I want a Photographer, with dark hair.
Eve felt uneasy. She ran her left hand over her long brunette hair, her right thumb hovered over the keyboard of the phone.
Me: I think you should contact someone else.
Unknown: Why? Your perfect, and your daughter is so pretty.
Fear gripped Eve’s heart, forcing it to race against her terrified mind. She ran into the garage and ripped the sticker from the window as she dialed the number for the Police.
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