He blamed everything on his lovely assistant. Lately she’d been acting strange, allowing the rabbit to escape from his top hat. She failed to oil the hinges on a safety device. Sabotaged his act by rumpling his silk handkerchief so the fake flowers emerged upside down.
Even the stagehands noticed the crying fits. She’d lost her sparkle; her passion for the magic of show biz had vanished.
If she had survived, she would have told how he sniggered about the weight she’d been putting on. Growing too fat for the sequined costume. Her swollen ankles were visible to the people sitting in the last row. She was unappealing, both to him and to the audience. She could barely squeeze into the Saw the Lady in Half Box, no less contort her body to avoid the saw. Marco the Magnificent, a show all about deception. He accused her of refusing to participate in the illusion.
If she’d survived, she would have told him, “I don’t care if your wife finds out. I’m having this baby.”
Elizabeth Farris is a dual citizen who divides her time between a small cabin in the mountains of Arizona and a small town in New Zealand. Both houses overlook water; a tiny year-round creek and the Tasman Sea. Either there are elk in the yard, or she is down the beach collecting pretty shells.