Fantastic Fridays: Finding Helen


Fantastic Fridays: Finding Helen

lit-festAs I wander the streets of Manhattan, I find myself guided by Helen. Hearing her playful voice. Luring me down one street or another.

If you find your days blurring together, and you wonder where your inspiration has gone, read this excerpt from Blue Moon. Then I challenge you to find your inner Helen! And share with the hashtag: #findinghelen

Enjoy! xo

She would have gone straight past the building had she not spotted the Logan & Associates logo. The moment she saw it, she felt a spine-tingling chill, and stopped in her tracks. The chill was her sign that there was something special about the place. Something mysterious.

Helen couldn’t explain it. But she suddenly had to know who Logan was and why he needed associates.

She found herself pulled into the lobby by a curiosity so strong she would have sworn someone was tugging her blouse. The building was remarkably quiet. She looked around but did not see a soul in the lobby. Even the security guard was strangely missing from his desk.

Helen didn’t question her luck. She headed straight for the elevators, quickly checking the building’s directory for Logan & Associates before disappearing through the elevator doors.

Now that she stood in front of their logo, emblazoned on the wall, Helen wondered what could have possibly enticed her up sixty-one floors.

Their conservative emblem announced their importance like a law firm yet with too much flair to be such a practical enterprise. Sparkling silver, the logo’s material implied expensive services and the size laid claim to the entire floor. Yet the name was so banal, she would almost assume they didn’t want anyone making the trip.

What kind of company offers high-end services to a limited clientele, Helen wondered as she moved her gaze from the logo to re-examine the entryway. She suddenly picked up on the missing washroom. And the lack of art on the walls.

They aren’t looking for exclusive clients, Helen thought, they don’t want clients at all. Or, at least, she corrected herself, they don’t want anyone who isn’t invited.

Helen smiled. Jackpot! And the chill shot up her spine. Just like when she saw their name. If she needed any confirmation, she had it. There was something mysterious about this place. Which made her game all the more exciting.

As she turned her gaze to the office behind the glazed glass, she wondered how to play this. The best approach was to let the receptionist take the lead. Helen preferred to be in charge, but when the dance was this unscripted, she knew to follow where other people loved to show the way.

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Kate Tremills
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