Chapter 3

Inside the house, I didn't go to my room.

I went straight to the study, to the phone.

My hands trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from adrenaline.

I dialed a number I hadn't thought of in decades.

Professor Alistair Finch. My university mentor. A brilliant architect, an old, kind soul who had believed in my talent.

He answered on the third ring.

"Professor Finch? It's Sarah. Sarah Jenkins." I used my maiden name. It felt right.

"Sarah! My goodness, what a surprise! How are you?"

His voice was a balm. A connection to a life I thought was lost forever.

"I'm... at a crossroads, Professor. And I remembered your belief in me."

I feigned illness effectively enough to leave the party early, Mark' s protests about my sudden frailty ringing hollow even to his own ears. He was more annoyed than concerned.

I told Professor Finch I needed a change, a big one. I didn't tell him I'd woken up in the past.

He listened patiently.

"It's funny you should call, Sarah. There's a project, a major urban renewal in Oakhaven, a smaller city, up-and-coming. They're desperate for a lead architect with fresh ideas. It's a challenge, but the kind I always thought you'd excel at."

Oakhaven. Not New England. Somewhere in the Rust Belt, trying to reinvent itself. Perfect.

"Could you... could you put in a word for me? Send my portfolio?"

"Consider it done, Sarah. I still have your student work, it was exceptional. I'll call them first thing Monday. You send me an updated resume."

Hope, real and potent, surged through me.

I hung up, my heart pounding. This was it. My escape route.

I spent an hour on the computer, updating my resume, finding my old portfolio files, a ghost of my younger self guiding my hands.

Then, I heard them. Mark, Brenda, Jessica, and Kevin, trooping into the house.

Kevin. I hadn't focused on him at the party. The bitter, lazy son, easily swayed by his father and Brenda. He' d also be a drain, blaming me for everything.

I remembered him in my first life, unemployed, drifting, still living off the dregs of my settlement until it was all gone.

He joined the chorus of blame against me then, just as he was about to now.

"Sarah, there you are!" Mark called out, his voice falsely jovial. "We were worried."

Brenda was behind him, a concerned frown etched on her face. Jessica looked sullen. Kevin looked like he' d rather be anywhere else.

"We need to talk," Mark said.

Oh, we did. But it wasn't going to be the conversation he expected.