Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.

Wise words. More than just a motto or mantra that Eva Turner could relate to, but her survival strategy. Her lifeline. She'd typed the phrase beneath the edited digital image of scarred hands folded over bent knees, the nails ripped and filthy. A single, blunt finger crooked, inviting you to proceed but at your own caution.

I'll tell you, but you may not like it, he'd said when she'd stopped him that evening for the photograph. Everyone had secrets. Eva was in the business of capturing them. And this man's had been particularly...surprising.

Deleting the phrase, Eva replaced it with: Proceed with Caution. Sat back. Nodded. Yes, that's what she'd call it.

Bleary, she knuckled her eyelids and yawned. Five solid hours of editing was hell on the corneas and a sinus headache threatened to bloom, flashing along the left curve of her brow. The door whispered open at her back and the bright notes of crisp perfume flood the closet-sized space.

"Are you seriously going to spend all day crammed in here?"

"Yeah, I know," Eva sighed, the bones in her neck cracking as she angled her head left then right.

"We got a walk-in that I think is going to bite. Why don't you take this one? A little break from the screen and some client interaction will do you good."

Eva lifted bloodshot eyes to scowl at her best friend and gallery manager. "I thought that's why I hired you?"

"The first smart decision you ever made." Jenelle tousled copper waves, radiant as morning sun wrapped in a cobalt dress. "Now do as I said: get up."

"I'm busy."

"And I'm taking five."

"Son of a..." Eva scowled at her retreating back, fingers drumming against an overburdened desk. Who, she thought, was supposed to be the damn employee? Pushing to her feet, Eva marched out from the back and into the heart of Out of Focus Gallery.

The chemical scent of paint slapped her straight, reminding her for the third time that she should have listened to Jenelle's recommendation of closing up for a couple extra days while the place properly aired out. Well, at least it hadn't chased off patrons from swinging in and exploring.

She'd opted for muted colours, nothing too harsh or ostentatious to take away from the artwork. Her photography. Here, surrounded by bits and pieces of the people she'd captured--connected to them through canvas and secrets-she didn't feel so alone.

Or...exposed.

There was only one person milling about. A woman fixed near the front, lost in a moment of silent reflection. As Eva approached, she took in details.

Long hair hung straight without a kink or wave, more brown than black. She had the curvy frame of a woman who didn't mind carrying around a few extra pounds, especially when they migrated to all the right places, giving a sense of lush femininity. 

She stood hipshot, arms crossed and head tilted to the left, admiring a portrait blown up to the size of a small TV. One of Eva's first and, in truth, one of her most favourite.

An old man's face was just visible in the curved sphere of a beer bottle, a mostly toothless mouth turned up into a guffawing laugh. But the closer his face veered to the thickened ringed curve of dark green glass, that smile transformed from a grin into a wail. A single bead of brew ran along the bend, following the withered cheek like a tear.

One of joy? Sorrow? Eva had left that open to interpretation.

"This one's called: Bottom of the Beer Bottle. He's a character, isn't he?" Eva stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, in study.

"It's like I know him," she said, voice smooth and clean. The young woman glanced over and a radiant smile danced in almond shaped eyes. Eva recognized the raw-boned features of Native American bloodline. Given the locals on Haven mostly descended from one of the three local tribes, she'd learned how to place the sculpted cheekbones, wide brows and long, thin noses.

Her fingers itched for her camera.

"This photographer... is incredible. Amazing. Such...depth. And life. I keep meaning to walk away, to look at the others, but this one-he calls me back and I can't move. I don't want to."

"He had that effect, more so in person." Eva scraped a hand over torso where her camera should have been resting, felt the grit of spaghetti sauce dried over cotton against her palm.

"I think I wasted more than half the morning listening to him." She remembered the whitewashed sky, clouds stretched so far and thin that not a scrap of blue was visible for miles over the harbour. He'd sat on the edge of a dock, bottles lined up next to him spaced an inch apart in rows of three by three. She'd counted twelve when she'd first sat down to join him. There'd been quite a few more by the time she'd left.

"He had a cadence to his voice. And loved to talk. About anything really, kicking back beers and lighting cigarette after cigarette that he didn't take a drag from once."

The woman's gaze shifted to her, awestruck. "You're Eddie Blake? The photographer?"

Shit, she thought. And this is why she didn't like interfacing with people. "No. Just a grunt," Eva said, back-peddling. "I tag along, maybe snap a pic or two, but Eddie's the genius behind the lens." 

Whether she bought the lie or not, Eva couldn't say for sure. After a brief pause, she thrust out a hand bearing a diamond large enough to sink the island. "I'm Niobe. Niobe Pierce."

Eva accepted the proffered hand, shook once.

"My hubby's going to love this. How much?"

"A hundred and fifty for a print this size." Eva gestured to the small tag at the bottom left corner. "And if you don't like the framing we can have it swapped out for a custom look at a small charge."

"No, no this is perfect. This weathered wood. He looks a bit like an old sea captain, don't you think? With that tattered sailors cap and collared shirt beneath his coat? All that's missing is the pipe. Sort of a geriatric Popeye."

Eva snorted at the comparison. "I think he would have liked that."

"So..." An excited gleam flushed beneath dusky skin. "Can I take a peek? Since I'm buying him?"

Reaching for the frame, Eva turned the portrait around to reveal the trademark bronzed plaque beneath. She watched as Niobe's eyes raced to soak up the words. The rush of awe and wistful surprise, the wonder and shock never got old. Those eyes lifted, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft as a dream.

"Don't you want to see?"

"Don't need to. I never forget a face, or a story." Eva mounted the photo back to its place on the wall. Levelled it. "He's yours now. Jenelle will process payment and we'll have him wrapped up and ready for you to take, or we could have it delivered to your hotel."

"Delivery would be fantastic. I'm staying at the Garden Rose B&B. The one on Main Street?"

"I know the place." Eva waved Jenelle over and let her store manager do what she did best. Manage the customers. Twenty minutes later, Jenelle sashayed to where Eva stood, staring out the front window.

"What a sale! Two prints, custom matting and I've got the bug in her ear about a baby shower present for--God, help me." Jenelle's smile dropped. "I can't believe you faced a client looking like that." She wagged a finger at Eva, motioning from mussed, choppy, dark hair down to tattered converse.

"I always look like this."

"More's the pity. Couldn't you at least have put on a clean shirt?"

Eva glanced down at the quarter-sized splatter of red sauce smeared into the pale blue denim of her oversized-button up and shrugged. "It's mostly clean. Besides, I told you I didn't want to do it. Maybe next time you'll listen."  

"You've such a pretty face." Jenelle pushed back the uneven layers of Eva's bangs to reveal the delicate heart shape hidden beneath. "I don't understand why you insist on dressing like a slob."

Eva forked fingers through her hair, disordering the locks Jenelle had smoothed down. "Next to you anyone is going to look like a slob."

"Well," pleased, she batted long lashes around silver eyes, "one cannot be faulted for natural beauty."

And she was, Eva thought, from her stellar bone structure to her long legs and wicked curves. Though she was a complete and utter sweetheart, Jenelle Davies lacked a single humble bone in her killer body.

"Hey, before you dive back behind the computer, I want to talk to you about our social media presence."

Because her back was still throbbing from a day hunched in her chair, Eva lifted her arms and spun them in large, winging circles. "What about it?"

"How about the fact that we don't have one?"

Eva dropped her arms. Scowled. "Christ on a crutch, Jenelle. Not this again."

"Do you have any idea how many new businesses fail within their first year? Within their first five years?"

"No, but-"

"Sixty percent," Jenelle interrupted. "Sixty. I don't want that to be us. Our numbers are looking good. Solid. But at six months in we could be doing so much better."

"And how are a couple of hashtags and likes going to change that?"

"By making us relevant." Jenelle's hands shot up in exasperation as Eva walked off. "By giving us exposure."

"I thought that's why I was forking out a large chunk of money for our company website?"

"That's not enough these days. Not even close." Hot on her heels, Jenelle caught Eva by the arm, brought her back around so they stood face to face. Or as close as possible when Jenelle clocked in at a runway five eleven. "I'm talking about building a brand. Social media is crucial. We need to get connected to the world through Facebook, Twitter--a blog!"

Eva rubbed a sweaty palm across her chest where a panicked heart kicked. "No."

"If you're worried about the extra work, I can manage it, alright? For now at least. Once things pick up we could look into hiring a Social Media manager to--"

"No. I said no. No."

Jenelle's face fell in to flat lines of irritation. "Won't you at least think about it?"

"You said our numbers are looking good, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then don't talk to me about a damn Facebook page until sales start to dip, okay?" Rolling her wrist, she looked at the time and winced. Christ, she was cutting it close. "I've got to run and get the girls. You good to close up on your own?"

"Sure." Jenelle waved a hand, annoyance thick in her voice. "Go home and get an early night; you're starting to look like hell." 

"Love you, too, bitch."Eva flashed a sarcastic grin to match the below the belt remark, and softened Jenelle up with a noisy kiss to her cheek.

#

Pulling into the school parking lot with five minutes to spare, Eva slid into the last available spot closest to the main doors. From here she had clear sight-lines of the entrance to Dallington Middle School.

Turning off the engine she thrust the gear into park, and watched the flock of moms and dads loitering by the gates with a mixture of avarice and apathy. How nice to be so carefree. To wake in the mornings and know that the world hadn't changed; that life would go on with its simple and menial routines. 

That the most challenging decision of the day being what to make for dinner? What shirt to wear? Which bill to pay first?

Reaching into the stash tucked under the passenger seat, she found the box of granola bars. Ripped open one with her teeth and spat out a sliver of wrapping.

And wondered if life would ever be so...easy for her again?

As the bells tolled, bodies poured through the front doors, her eyes searched and peeled. Where the heck is Hailey? And took a venomous bite.

Eva glanced up at the sound of fingers tapping musically against her window, sending her heart--and a chunk of granola bar--into her throat. Claire Willows, a tidy blonde with an infectious smile, waited patiently for Eva to recover from her coughing fit.

"Hi, sorry--you looked like you're in a rush and I wanted to catch you quickly. Got a minute?"

"Actually," throat burning, Eva wiped moisture from the corners of her eyes, "I don't. I'm--"

"I know, I know. This won't take long." Claire curled her fingers over the partition of glass, lowering so that they were almost level. "Hailey's with Sam-Samantha-my daughter. Over by the tree." Eva followed Claire's slender hand pointing off to the left and sure enough there was Hailey making a pointed effort not to look in their direction.

"Girls!" Claire called out, waving them over before turning back to Eva, voice hushed. "Sam would love to have Hailey over tonight. And I could drop them off at school together in the morning. No trouble."

"Thanks, but that's not a good idea."

"I know it's incredibly last minute but-"

"No."

"If you're worried that it's a school night, I can promise Hailey won't be up late. Scouts honour." Those pretty green eyes beamed with such simple honesty, it was hard not to feel like an ogre snarling in the face of the beautiful princess. 

"Claire, is it?" Eva tipped down her sunglasses, gripped the wheel with her other hand. "I don't allow my girls to have sleepovers. Period. Just a personal thing, okay?"

"Oh." Claire popped straight, stray golden curls tugged by the wind and a note of wounded hurt in her voice. "Okay. Sure. Girls," she sang, quickly composing that sunny little grin on her face so quick Eva was hard pressed not to feel a small tug of admiration. "Ms. Turner and I were having a little chat, turns out tonight isn't going to work."

"Surprise, surprise," Hailey grumbled with a roll of her eyes, sending Eva's already heated blood to boil.

"I know you're disappointed." Claire smoothed a hand over Hailey's shoulder. "Perhaps...another time." Those soft eyes flitted to Eva, timid as a small bird. Hopeful. "Summer's rolling in soon...maybe we could arrange for something?"

"Fat chance."

"Cool it, missy." Irritated, Eva pushed her frames back in place. "I've said my piece and if you keep at it you can forget being in that intensive drama program."

Hailey's face tightened, lips pressed into a firm white line, and bit down on whatever mutinous and snide remark Eva saw flashing in her eyes. 

"Get in the car." She jerked a thumb at the passenger seat. "I'm late for your sisters. Move. Your. Butt."

Grumbling, Hailey yanked open the door, heaved in her knapsack with a dramatic growl as Claire looped an arm around Samantha's shoulder, a perfect miniature replica of her mother.

"Oh, well, nice chatting with you, Eva. Perhaps we could...another time, then?"

Offering a non-committal nod and smile, Eva rolled the window back up, turning the key in the ignition.

"You didn't have to be so rude, y'know."

"I wouldn't need to be if you didn't set up Sam's mom to ambush me," Eva snapped irritably, angling around in her seat so she as she pushed the car into reverse.

"Wasn't my idea."

Eva snorted, turning the car out onto the residential street. "Why don't I buy that?"

"You never let me do anything."

"With good reason, Hail." She looked over at her daughter; body turned towards the window and her face a crumpled ruin of righteous disappointment.

"You know it's too risky."

"Whatever." Hailey traced a finger over the window in swirling, despondent circles of hate. There was no way to reach her like this. No way to breech that twelve year-old sullen, hormonal amour. And, once again, playing the Bad Guy meant Eva was going to face the wrath of Hurricane Hail for the rest of the week.

Great, Eva thought, returning her eyes to the road. Just perfect.