"Ah . . . "

The sound of a throat clearing drew Heather's attention away from the paperwork on her desk at Trommler Records. "Hey, Jacob. What's up?"

"It is Thursday, Heather. I wanted to leave about three so I can attend the salon."


"The salon at Rachel Hill's house. Surely you've heard of it? People come from all over to attend them."

Heather had to search her memory. "Hill. Hill. I know an Ashley Hill; she's on the geology survey team. But I don't remember a Rachel."

Jacob shook his head. "You amaze me, you up . . .

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