Meet Emmy

This scene is from chapter 4 of Life Crafter Death, the ninth book in the Knitorious Murder Mystery Series.

Megan’s sister, morning television personality, Emmy, arrives unexpectedly in Harmony Lake, hot on the heels of a fight with her soccer-star husband, Armando. This scene happens early the following morning, after Emmy spends the night in Megan’s guest room.

First, we have the original scene, written from Megan’s point of view, followed by the re-written scene from Emmy’s point of view.

Megan’s point of view:

I wrap my pink fluffy robe around me, slip into my white fluffy slippers, and shuffle toward the coffeemaker. Someone has already made coffee. Wafts of caffeine-infused air guide my nose when I turn the corner toward the kitchen. 

“Morning, Sis!” Emmy smiles from the corner of the family room sofa. She’s curled up with her feet under her butt. The afghan from the back of the sofa covers her legs, and she’s leafing through a magazine. Sophie nestles into Emmy’s hip, resting her head on Emmy’s thigh. 

“Good morning,” I say. “You’re up early.” 

“Um, excuse me?” She snorts with a chuckle. “I’ve been up for a while. After years of getting up for work in the middle of the night, my body doesn’t remember how to sleep in.”

Sophie jumps down from the sofa and trots toward me, tail wagging, to say good morning.  

“I always forget,” I admit, bending down to rub Sophie. “I still associate you with the teenager who refused to drag her butt out of bed before noon.” 

“Those days are long gone,” Emmy quips, turning the page. “Sophie’s been out already, but I haven’t fed her.” 

“Thanks,” I say, rummaging through the basket of coffee pods until I find one that will hit the spot: French Vanilla. 

I hold up the pod and look at Emmy, wordlessly offering her a coffee. In response, she holds up her mug and smiles, indicating that she already has a coffee.  

While the coffeemaker transforms the coffee pod into liquid heaven, I fix Sophie’s breakfast and put it on the floor. She digs in and doesn’t come up for air until her bowl is empty.

“Your fiancé went for an early morning run,” Emmy advises when I join her on the sofa. 

“He’s weird like that,” I respond, tugging the afghan until I have enough to cover the bottom of my legs. 

“How’s the wedding planning coming along?” my sister asks. 

I shrug, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “It isn’t,” I admit. “We haven’t discussed it, or picked a date, or anything.” 

“I assumed from this pile of wedding magazines that you were in wedding-planning mode.” Emmy gestures to the tall pile of glossy magazines on the coffee table. 

“I didn’t buy those,” I confess. “People give them to me. Each magazine is a not-so-subtle hint that we have to get a wiggle on and plan our wedding.” 

“It sounds like you aren’t in a hurry,” Emmy says, closing the bridal magazine she was leafing through and tossing on top of the pile. 

“I’m not,” I admit. “But Eric would like to move things along.” I sigh. “There’s so much to plan. Even a small wedding is a lot of work.” 

“You could always elope like Armando and I,” she suggests, grinning. “I can give you the contact information for the adorable chapel we went to in Vegas. Just choose what to wear and show up. They take care of flowers, photography, everything. They even have a package that includes wedding rings.” 

“It sounds tempting.” I take another sip of coffee. “Is that why you eloped? Because you didn’t want to plan a wedding?” 

“I would’ve loved to plan our wedding,” Emmy professes. “Eloping was Armando’s idea.” She breaks into a sheepish grin. “He’s very romantic, you know. He wanted our wedding to be private and intimate. He said he didn’t want to share me with anyone else, and he wanted us to focus on each other instead of details.” She blushes as she recalls her wedding. 

“I didn’t realize he was so sentimental.” 

“He didn’t even want to tell anyone we got married,” she adds. 

“You never told me this. Why didn’t he want anyone to know?”

“He said he wanted it to be our secret. Something special that only we shared. He’s a very private person, Sis. Private and romantic.” 

“But your marriage is public knowledge, so I assume he came around to your way of thinking?”

“We agreed to tell people, and we had a reception when we got home from our honeymoon. I think Armando would’ve been happier to keep it between us, but he wanted me to be happy, so we compromised.” She blushes and grins again, this time looking wistfully at her wedding ring. 

I remember the reception well. It was a beautiful formal event in the ballroom of a fancy hotel. 

“Do you regret eloping?” I ask as Sophie leaps onto the sofa, licking her chops, and turning in circles before she lies down.  

“No.” Emmy shrugs. “We had the reception afterward, and a big wedding would have been awkward with his family and stuff.” 

“Because they’re in Ecuador?”

“That and because he doesn’t talk to them.” 

“He doesn’t?” This is the first I’ve heard of relationship issues between Armando and his family. “Why not?” 

Emmy shrugs. “It happened before Armando and I met. I don’t know all the details, and Armando doesn’t like to talk about it, but he said they disagreed over money. Armando’s money. He said they weren’t happy with how much he gave them. He got tired of fighting, cut them off financially, and they retaliated by cutting off all communication with him.” 

“That’s awful,” I sympathize. “Poor Armando.” 

“I know.” My sister nods. “I’m literally his only family. And since his family turned his best friend against him, he doesn’t have any friends from his old life either.” 

“His family turned his best friend against him?”

“Armando said his family tried to get his best friend to side with them about the money issue, and it destroyed their friendship. He said it was bound to happen sooner or later because their relationship became strained because his friend was jealous when Armando made the major leagues. His friend didn’t get a chance to play for the majors because he had a career-ending knee injury.” 

“Poor guy.” 

My sister nods. “I think that’s why Brad’s friendship is so important to him. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else.” 

“Your attitude toward Armando this morning is warmer than yesterday,” I observe, wondering if reminiscing about their elopement is the reason. “Does this mean you might unblock him?”

“I already unblocked him,” Emmy admits with a smirk. “Last night after you told me he visited you at Knitorious.” 

“You blocked his calls, you blocked him on social media, and you blocked his texts, but you didn’t block him from your Find My Friends app. That was on purpose, wasn’t it?” 

I’ve been wanting to ask her this since yesterday. My sister is too strategic and too smart for such an oversight. 

“Guilty.” She holds her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I wanted to see if he’d follow me to Harmony Lake.” 

“Like a test?” I ask. 

“Sort of,” Emmy admits. Then she swats my arm. “Don’t judge me.” 

“I’m not judging, I swear.” 

April might be right when she said Emmy and Armando could win Perfect Match. 

“I spoke to him last night before bed. We’re meeting today to talk.” 

“He’s welcome to come here,” I offer. 

“Thanks, Sis, but I’m meeting him for breakfast in his hotel suite. The fewer people who know we’re in town, the better. We don’t need any speculation about our relationship while we work this out.” 

“Call me if you need anything,” I remind her. “And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Emmy’s point of view:

“Morning, Sis!” I smile from the corner of the cozy sofa.

I’m nestled under the crocheted afghan my grandmother made and my sister keeps draped over the back of her sofa.  

“Good morning,” Megan says, padding into the kitchen in her fluffy robe. “You’re up early.”

Sophie lifts her head briefly, contemplating whether to jump off the sofa and greet her owner. She yawns, decides against disrupting our comfy cuddle, and snuggles against my hip, resting her head on my thigh.  

“Um, excuse me?” I snort with a chuckle. “I’ve been up for ages. After years of waking up in the middle of the night for work, my body doesn’t remember how to sleep late anymore.”

Sophie changes her mind again,  jumps down to the floor and, tail wagging,  trots toward my sister to say good morning.  

“I always forget,” Megan admits, bending down and stroking Sophie. “I still remember you as the teenager who refused to drag her butt out of bed before noon.” 

It’s not often I find myself with someone to speak to so early in the morning. Most people don’t wake up before the sun unless they have to. My stint on Hello, today! means I rise and shine at four a.m. every weekday morning, rain or shine. Armando is either on the road for work, or still sleeping when I creep out of the house before dawn.  

I don’t enjoy starting my day in the middle of the night, but I love my job, and early mornings come with the territory. I've seen more than a few breathtaking sunrises. 

My sister, on the other hand, doesn’t have an excuse. She’s just an early riser. Always has been. Megan was the only teenager I knew who jumped out of bed at the crack of dawn––willingly and without attitude. 

“Those days are long gone,” I quip, turning the page of the bridal magazine I’ve been perusing to pass the time. “Sophie’s been outside already, but I haven’t fed her.” 

“Thanks,” Megan says, rummaging through the coffee pods.  

She finds a pod and holds it up, looking at me; a wordless offer of a cup of coffee.

In response, I lift my mug and smile, indicating that I’m at least half-a-mug ahead of her.  

While the coffee maker hums and hisses, Megan fixes Sophie’s breakfast and sets it on the floor. 

Sophie buries her muzzle in the bowl and doesn’t come up for air until it’s empty.

“Your fiancé went for an early morning run,” I say when Megan joins me on the sofa. 

“He’s weird like that,” she responds, tugging at the afghan and covering her legs with half. 

“How’s the wedding planning coming along?” I ask. 

Megan shrugs as she swallows a mouthful of coffee. 

“It isn’t,” she admits. “We haven’t discussed it, or picked a date, or anything.” 

“I assumed from this pile of wedding magazines that you were in wedding-planning mode.” I gesture to the tall pile of glossy magazines on the coffee table. 

“I didn’t buy those,” she explains. “People give them to me. Each magazine is a not-so-subtle hint that we have to get a wiggle on and plan our wedding.” 

“It sounds like you aren’t in a hurry,” I say, closing the bridal magazine and tossing it on the pile. 

“I’m not,” Megan confesses. “But Eric would like to move things along.” She sighs. “There’s so much to plan. Even a small wedding is a lot of work.” 

“You could elope like Armando and I,” I suggest. “I can give you the contact information for the adorable chapel we went to in Vegas. Just choose what to wear and show up. They take care of flowers, photography, everything. They even have a package that includes wedding rings.” 

“It sounds tempting.” She takes another sip of coffee. “Is that why you eloped? Because you didn’t want to plan a wedding?” 

“I would have loved to plan our wedding,” I insist. “Eloping was Armando’s idea.” I grin at the memory of him convincing me to run away with him and get married. “He’s very romantic, you know. He wanted our wedding to be private and intimate. He said he didn’t want to share me with anyone else, and he wanted us to focus on each other instead of details.” 

Heat rushes to my face.

“I didn’t realize Armando was so sentimental.” 

“He didn’t even want to tell anyone we got married,” I add. 

“You never told me this. Why didn’t he want anyone to know?”

“He wanted it to be our secret. Something special that only we shared. He’s a very private person, Sis. Private and romantic.” 

“But your marriage is public knowledge, so I assume he came around to your way of thinking?”

“We agreed to tell people, and we had a reception when we got home from our honeymoon. I think Armando would’ve been happier to keep it between us, but he wanted me to be happy, so we compromised.” 

I catch myself grinning and gazing nostalgically at my wedding ring. 

“Do you regret eloping?” Megan asks as Sophie leaps onto the sofa, licking her chops, and turning in circles before lying down.  

“No.” I shrug one shoulder. “We had the reception afterward, and a big wedding would have been awkward with his family and stuff.” 

“Because they’re in Ecuador?”

“That and because he doesn’t talk to them.” 

“He doesn’t?” 

Megan’s shocked expression reminds me that I haven’t confided in her about Armando’s family history. I know she’ll have lots of questions, and I don’t have many answers.

“Why not?” she asks. 

“It happened before Armando and I met,” I explain. “I don’t know all the details, and Armando doesn’t like to talk about it. He said they disagreed over money. Armando’s money. He said they weren’t happy with how much he gave them. He got tired of fighting, cut them off financially, and they retaliated by cutting off all communication with him.” 

“That’s awful,” she sympathizes. “Poor Armando.” 

“I know.” I nod. “I’m literally his only family. And since his family turned his best friend against him, he doesn’t have any friends from his old life either.” 

“His family turned his best friend against him?”

“Armando said his family tried to get his best friend to side with them about the money issue, and it destroyed their friendship. He said it was bound to happen sooner or later because their relationship was already strained because his friend was jealous when Armando made the major leagues. His friend never got a chance to play for the majors because of a career-ending knee injury.” 

“Poor guy.” 

I nod again. “I think that’s why Brad’s friendship is so important to Armando. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else.” 

“Your attitude toward Armando this morning is warmer than yesterday,” Megan observes, giving me a sideways glance. “Does this mean you might unblock him?”

“I already unblocked him,” I admit with a smirk. “Last night after you told me he visited you at Knitorious.” 

“You blocked his calls, you blocked him on social media, and you blocked his texts, but you didn’t block him from your location app. That was on purpose, wasn’t it?” 

I knew she’d figure it out sooner or later. My sister is abnormally observant when it comes to small details. 

“Guilty.” I raise my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I wanted to see if he’d follow me to Harmony Lake.” 

“Like a test?” 

“Sort of,” I admit before swatting Megan’s arm. “Don’t judge me.” 

“I’m not judging, I swear.” 

“I spoke to him last night before bed. We’re meeting today to talk.” 

“He’s welcome to come here,” she offers. 

“Thanks, Sis, but we’re meeting for breakfast in his hotel suite. The fewer people who know we’re in town, the better. We don’t need any speculation about our relationship while we work this out.” 

“Call me if you need anything,” Megan reminds me. “And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Are you ready for more adventures with Megan and friends? Click here for In Stitchness and in Health: A Knitorious Murder Mystery Book 10.