The Fifteen Minute Novel: Day 219

The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.

Day 219: It was so long ago.

It was so long ago. Hank was the family dog when his step brothers were young and Cassie would play with him when she came to the house.  She always liked dogs and Hank was happy in her company, generally choosing to sit with her when she was around.  She cried when he died and even came to the small family funeral they held for him when they scattered his ashes.

Hank was a blue tick coon hound that came to them via a breeder in a place called Weaverville. It was a small town in the mountains and the shell corporation owned a small vacation cabin outside of town.  It was listed with a small broker in town and tended to only be occupied a few time a year.

With a start James realized that he would have to tell the company Cassie was coming.  With a sigh, James stood back up and retrieved the laptop.  He once again took it to the bed and booted it up.  The name he used for his contacts within the shell company was James Monroe.  He figured that his first name was general enough it would excite no notice and he got a kick out of pairing it with a long dead president. 

“It technically isn’t my old e-mail,” he told the specter of the government.  “You didn’t find it when I was sent here, so no one else will either.”

James navigated to the site and clicked on his contact.  He pulled up her address in a black e-mail and typed a quick message about Cassie.  He kept the information basic.  Cassie was coming, he was uncertain of the exact date but figured it was the off season so timing wasn’t important.  He had waived all of the rental fees. He looked at the short note. 

‘Hopefully that is enough.’ James sent the message and left his computer booted up.  He felt the stirrings of hunger, but knew he wasn’t going to cook anything.  He went downstairs and slapped together a peanut butter sandwich.  He turned out the lower lights again and took his sandwich back up the stairs.  By the time he settled himself on the bed again, a reply message was in his inbox. 

The rental company was happy to help and gave him a number for Cassie to call when she reached town.  They would send someone to air the place out in the morning so it would be ready.  When Cassie called, she was to ask for Deborah.

“Right,” James told himself.  “I couldn’t just notify everyone and let it go.” Figuring he was in the mess already, James went back to the message board.  He once again logged into the site as the administrator.  Unsurprisingly Cassie left several messages.

“James is that you?”

“It has to be you.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I knew you couldn’t be dead.”

“Please tell me you aren’t dead.”

James ignored the request for information.  “When you reach town check in with Deborah at the rental office. She knows you are coming and that the fee has been paid. She will give you the keys.” James typed in Deborah’s contact number.  His fingers paused over the keys.  “Enjoy your stay, Best, J. Monroe.”

James looked at the message.  Cassie needed to know Monroe sent her in case anyone asked.  He knew he was taking a risk, but it seemed the best option.

“And James Monroe isn’t tied to James Ferris,” James told himself.  “I just have to forget about James Monroe again.”

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