Chapter 1

Mike was sketching at the dining table, a new condo design for his firm, and I was on the couch, scrolling through dental hygiene forums. A normal Tuesday night. The kind of quiet we' d built together.

Then my phone buzzed, it was Jessica, my sister.

"Sarah, you will not believe what Brenda just told me."

Jessica sounded stressed, which wasn' t unusual when her mother-in-law, Brenda, was involved.

"What now?" I asked, not looking up from my phone.

"She says she' s the reincarnation of someone named Lila LaRue."

I paused my scrolling. "Who?"

"Some old movie star from the fifties, apparently, I' ve never heard of her, and get this, she says Mike is her co-star, Johnny Starlight, reborn."

I looked over at Mike, he was frowning at his blueprint, completely unaware he was supposedly a reincarnated movie legend.

"She' s lost it, Jess."

"She' s serious, Sarah, dead serious, she cornered me in my own kitchen, wearing this... this sparkly shawl thing."

"Okay, well, as long as she keeps her delusions in her own house."

"That' s the thing," Jessica' s voice dropped, "she said she needs to see Mike, to 'reconnect with her Johnny' ."

A weird feeling settled in my stomach.

Brenda was eccentric, always had been since Jessica married David, Brenda' s son. Her outfits were loud, a mishmash of thrift store finds she called "vintage couture," and her makeup was always caked on, like she was perpetually ready for a low-budget stage play. But this was new.

"Tell her Mike' s busy," I said. "Indefinitely."

"I tried, Sarah, she' s not listening, she just hums these old songs and calls me 'darling' ."

I sighed. "Don' t let her come over here, Jess."

"I' ll try," Jessica said, but she didn' t sound convincing.

The next afternoon, our doorbell rang.

I wasn' t expecting anyone. Mike was at work.

I looked through the peephole.

It was Brenda.

She wore a leopard print dress that looked like it was made of thin plastic, a floppy hat with a wilting feather, and sunglasses so big they covered half her face, indoors.

"Sarah, my dear," she trilled when I opened the door just a crack. "Is Johnny home?"

"Brenda, Mike is at work, and his name is Mike."

Her painted-on smile didn' t falter.

"Oh, you sweet thing, still playing your part, Lila always had such loyal assistants, but Johnny will remember me, the moment he sees me."

She tried to peer past me into the apartment.

"He' s not here," I said, my voice firm. "And I' m his wife, not his assistant."

"Of course, dear, the script is a little muddled this time around, isn' t it? A temporary arrangement, I' m sure, until Johnny and I find our rhythm again."

She patted my arm, her rings clacking.

"Tell Johnny his Lila is waiting, the studio lights are calling."

Then she turned and swayed down the hallway, leaving a trail of cheap perfume.

I closed the door, a deep sense of unease washing over me. This wasn't just eccentricity anymore. This was a problem.