Free Waking Kate by Sarah Addison Allen Page A

attention. “You told me to do this quickly, and given your casual attire, I would suggest a four-in-hand.”
    The old man stepped in front of the reporter, and soon quick whips of a lavender tie could be seen. Then Mr. Reginald Donbeet moved aside, leaving the reporter with a polished ribbon of cloth around his neck. The knot looked like it had been cut from paper with the sharpest scissors ever made. Kate had pegged him all wrong. He wasn’t fussy. He was magic.
    “How do I look?” the reporter asked the camera, before turning to say, “Thank you.” But Mr. Reginald Donbeet wanted nothing more to do with this travesty, and had already walked away. The camera only caught his back. He was as thin as the shadow of a string.
    Kate turned the television off, and the immediate silence reminded her why she had turned it on in the first place. Her daughter, Devin, was at an overnight swim party at one of her classmate’s houses. It was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, and Kate had been glad to take her. For days Devin had been a ball of zingy yellow energy, darting around the house in fairy wings that were leftover from Halloween. The end of the school year had energized her, and that energy would last the whole summer.
    Kate used to be a lot like Devin. With a smile, she felt a sudden kinship with her own mother, thinking of what a trial she’d been to her. Kate used to believe that she could make anything happen. And if the signs weren’t there, well, then she would create the signs. If the butterflies she drew on her arms with Magic Markers stayed on her skin for more than two days, they would become real, peeling off her skin and flying away, leading her to her next big adventure. If she had more than three yellow moon marshmallows in her morning bowl of Lucky Charms cereal, it would not rain a drop all day. If her father was late coming home from work, she would hold her breath and stand at the living room window and, sure enough, he would always appear before she ran out of air.
    It felt strange with Devin gone, especially with the neighborhood quiet in that way it mysteriously became on holidays, everyone eager for the excuse to be anywhere but here. Kate went to the living room window and looked out. The houses were small and the yards were tired and wilted. There were a few elderly people living here, but most residents wore uniforms to work and caught the bus at the end of the street every day.
    Houses were suddenly selling here, and she didn’t understand why. They were on a hill behind a mall, and the grease from the food court was sometimes so heavy in the air that it fell like cake frosting onto old rhododendron and lilac bushes. Who would want to live here? But, still, it gave Kate hope. Maybe they could sell this house and move somewhere else. Start fresh.
    Kate took her phone out of her shorts pocket and checked for messages. None from Matt. She punched in his number and waited, but it went to voice mail. Holidays were always a busy time at his bicycle shop. Kate would have stayed at Pheris Wheels and helped out like she usually did—she basically ran the place while Matt played with the bikes—but she had to get Devin packed up and dropped off at the sleepover, then she had to pick up the things for her and Matt’s inaugural alfresco summer dinner.
    Standing there at the window, she found herself holding her breath like she used to when she was young, because that would bring what she wished for. Literally seconds later, she heard the city bus stop at the bottom of the hill. She let out the air she was holding. Of course. Traffic must be terrible. Matt took the bus home instead of riding his bike.
    She heard the bus idle, then the sound of the doors opening with a squeak. The bus drove off again and she stood there at the window, waiting for Matt to come into sight.
    But it wasn’t Matt who appeared on the sidewalk. It was an elderly man in a fine charcoal suit, a sharp tie around his neck that