Chasing Shadows: An Emma Stone Novel, #2

By Lexi Harmon

Emma Stone moved to a new town after a breakup with her fiance. A year has passed and she's gaining traction in her TV career.

But, out of the blue, her former fiance calls and wants to get back together, unsettling her in many ways. He has a job in England and wants her to move there.

Should she give it another try and join him? Or commit to a long-distance relationship?

Or shouuld she call it quits? Forever.

Life, she believes, is what you make it and Emma wants happiness, fulfillment and love. Will she make the right life choices?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lexi Harmon
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223644057

Book preview

CHASING SHADOWS

by

LEXI HARMON

Copyright © 2023 by Lexi Harmon

All rights reserved.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

Cover design by 100 Covers

Formatting by ebooklaunch

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

About the Author

Chapter 1

Emma glanced down at her phone to see caller ID. An uneasy feeling slid through her body. She pitched the still-ringing phone across the room and it landed in the middle of the sofa. She abruptly turned and stepped out on the porch.

The door to the cottage slammed behind her, cutting off the rings. She yanked the woollen toque low on her head and zipped up the nylon down-filled jacket, mumbling about the past following her. The wind twisted her curses away.

Emma stood and watched the dried, crisp leaves swirl on the ground. Her bright fuchsia-coloured jacket and running shoes matched the colour of the leaves a month ago but brown mounds now lay decaying in the grove of trees. Cold, brisk air had settled in, making everything look lifeless.

She shivered.

The wind brushed her face and loose tendrils peaked out from her toque sending chills through her slim body. Birds chirped and hopped among the bare branches and she promised herself to buy a book to identify any new species.

To acclimatize herself to the cold air, she took in deep breaths before her jog through the neighbourhood. She relished the slower pace of Saturday mornings, giving her time to exercise and recharge. She was always rushing off to some location to do a video shoot for the news channel so Saturday mornings were a welcome pace.

Emma inhaled a few more deep breaths. Better get moving. Her words were for herself as much as for the birds darting around.

She stepped down from the porch and walked briskly along the asphalt walkway. She liked that it was connected to the cottage in the rear and ran along the side of Mr. Samson’s house all the way to the front sidewalk.

Lights were on in his kitchen and like every morning, he enjoyed his coffee and worked on the latest Sudoku. For an eighty-three year old widower, who lost his wife several years ago, he had adjusted well to his changing circumstances. The three story Victorian was too large for him now but he had no plans to move. Luckily, she developed a good relationship with him over the past year and he saw her as the daughter he lost many years ago in an automobile accident.

When Emma reached the main sidewalk, she jogged along its curvy path, admiring the architecture and landscaping of the large properties neighbouring Mr. Samson’s. It was a quiet, residential neighbourhood of mainly imposing Victorian houses with their three stories, gabled roofs and wrap-around porches. Like Mr. Samson’s, most didn’t have a garage attached to the house and cars were parked along the curb in front or on the lawn beside the house.

The odd house was replaced with a contemporary two story and two-car garage with brick exterior, standing out from its neighbours by design and period.

The crunch of her shoes on dry, crisp leaves coating the sidewalk, echoed in the quiet hood. The wind was northerly and stung her cheeks when she rounded a corner. The neighbourhood was slowly waking up with car engines idling, walkers with dogs and the occasional paper thrower.

Emma adjusted the scarf around her neck and buried her mouth in its folds. The thumb-holes in her pullover let in the cold so she pulled her sleeves over her hands. In her hurry to exit from the ringing phone, she forgot her gloves. She pulled her toque further down her forehead and continued jogging.

Interesting stories abound from anywhere so she was always on the lookout for news worthy events. Short fill-ins for the local news. Fall fairs were finished, Halloween was around the corner and the snow hadn’t accumulated enough to direct attention to winter sports.

Nothing interesting struck her on her jog so she relaxed and adjusted to the cold and the wind and the flurries that started to gently fall around her. She loved this neighbourhood and never tired of jogging through it.

Emma unconsciously picked up her pace and realized she was running instead of jogging. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, breathing hard.

Slow down girl. Not so frantic.

Enjoy the surroundings.

Enjoy the neighbourhood.

She dropped her head down, tucked her chin in and stretched the back of her neck and then twisted her head from side to side. She rolled her shoulders back, hiked them up and squeezed, releasing tension.

Everything felt so tight.

Emma cursed him every time this happened. She had moved to Stratton to forget him. She wanted him out of her life.

Forever.

But it always went back to the blame game.

She blamed and wished but nothing changed.

Emma walked along the sidewalk, oblivious to everything except a headache that came on abruptly and increased in intensity with each step. She kicked the leaves in her path, angry at their presence. She looked up at the sky and let the wind bite her cheeks.

She spit out the occasional snowflake that landed gently in her mouth.

Her eyes watered because of the cold or at least that’s what she told herself. She brushed her cheeks with her jacket sleeve.

Making an abrupt turn on the sidewalk, she trudged back, picked up her pace and half ran and half jogged back from where she came.

Before she realized it, she was walking on the pathway beside Mr. Samson’s house. Her breathing was raspy and ragged so she stopped to catch her breath. The flicker of lights in his kitchen, from on to off, caught her attention.

She didn’t want to talk to him in this mood so she hustled down the path behind his house towards the simple guest house, the cottage that was home to her.

Her new life now.

Without her ex-fiancé.

The one she couldn’t forget.

Chapter 2

Come Monday morning, Emma was more than eager to return to work. The weekend was full of flashes of her old life that she wanted to shake. Whenever she had time alone, whenever she had time to relax and enjoy the day, that was the worst.

Her mind retraced the past in one large loop. Continuously.

It screamed at her and she screamed back.

The weekend was especially bad. For some reason, Kyle phoned numerous times but she ignored the persistent rings.

Didn’t want anything to do with her miserable past.

It was ugly.

Uglier than mud.

It got to the point where she dreaded weekends. It was torturous so she tried to keep busy. Hence the jogging.

For a fleeting moment, Emma considered getting a different type of job, a rote type where she didn’t have to think and she could work on the weekends.

Like frying chips.

Or grilling burgers.

Or dispensing coffee or tea.

Then she could talk freely with friends and laugh and have fun.

Maybe she should consider joining another dating site.

Or she could play chess with Mr. Samson all weekend.

Or volunteer at an animal shelter. The puppies would be a distraction.

The possibilities were endless.

Come Monday, Emma was delighted to walk into the news room filled with lively chatter and laughter. Since the reporters and assistants were housed in one large area, the noise expanded and contracted off the walls like the back and forth, the in and out of an accordion.

Desks and computers were sectioned off with free-standing barriers, more for privacy and according to departments, than for noise cancelling. The sports section was blocked off from the weather people who were blocked off from the local news. Although these barriers lessened some disruption, when she first entered the room, she was immediately surprised by the volume of noise.

The solitaire rumination of her mind on the weekend was in sharp contrast to the liveliness of the newsroom.

To say this elevated her mood considerably was an understatement.

Her section, which included interesting events around town, held two desks, back to back, Laurie’s and hers. She was responsible for collecting and communicating the interest segments in front of the camera while Laurie was responsible for copyediting and typing the information online in an interesting manner. Keeping both readers and viewers were important.

The ringing phones and the office chatter’s constant buzz frequently distracted her. At other times, Emma managed to obliterate any sounds and tapped away on her computer, focusing intently on the script.

Now was not one such time.

Instead, she drummed her fingers on the desk top and looked off in the distance. Life was good now compared to a year ago. She survived the past year and came out on top with a job she loved and new colleagues who had become fast and loyal friends. She rented a comfortable guest cottage from a considerate and wise landlord. The new town was made for exploring and satisfying her adventurous spirit.

No promises.

No commitments.

No serious relationships.

And that’s the way she liked her new life.

And wanted it.

After what she’d been through. After the embarrassing experiences she endured last year. With Kyle. With Matt, the sports guy. With his friends on the dating app.

No, thank you.

Didn’t want to deal with that any more.

Emma. Emma Stone. Emma-to-earth. Laurie’s voice rose above the background noise. Emma, she sang this time.

Emma heard her name being called and looked across the desk. Laurie and Jamie stood staring at her.

What? Did you say something?

Um, yes. We tried to get your attention. You’re off on some type of spaceship far, far away. They both laughed at the picture she painted.

Emma laughed along with them, more out of embarrassment. I was thinking about what to do next. That’s all.

You were frowning and then smiling with a mischievous look on your face. Don’t make me video a tricky situation you thought of, said Jamie, teasing.

Jamie’s her favourite cameraman. He’s twenty-seven, too, and cute as anything with a dimple in his chin and dark brown wavy hair touching his shoulders and the gentlest brown eyes. Since knowing him, he has always been considerate and kind and flexible, so opposite her ex-fiancé who championed a one-track mind—his own.

Laurie, whose desk was opposite hers, had become her right-hand, helping her daily with small yet important details for the scripts. Efficient as anyone she knew. She was twenty-eight but mature beyond her years and observant around the office. Which was why she liked talking to her—to get a different yet accurate perception of things. She was petite and exuded boundless energy and recently started highlighting her long black hair with red streaks.

Emma was taller than Laurie at five foot seven with long blondish hair—highlighted, too. Jamie could adjust the lighting on his camera to make her hair appear golden, which was the best. To keep her figure for the camera, she jogged whenever time allowed. She considered herself a fashionista, following the latest trends as soon as they appeared on the runway. She had to be well-dressed when in front of the camera, at least that’s what she told herself each time she purchased a new outfit.

She forced a laugh, joining in the frivolity of Laurie’s and Jamie’s joking. Hope you’re both having fun at my expense.

Seriously, Emma. What were you thinking?

Nothing, really. It’s not important. Understatement of the year. Distracted above and beyond. So what were you saying?

We should brainstorm for places to go and interview people. November can be slow—after Halloween and before Christmas, said Laurie.

Good idea. I totally agree with November being slow and uneventful.

Have you ever moved to another city to forget the past? Emma posed the first question, the question that perpetually repeated in her mind. That would be a good stimulus for discussion. She wondered if other people had as much difficulty as she did in coming to terms with the past. How did they handle it?

Excellent question, Emma, said Jamie. You’re alert this Monday morning.

She so wished that were true. Kyle phoned so many times she lost track of the number. But she wouldn’t tell them what prompted the question.

The three colleagues spent the next hour coming up with viable options and questions that could be turned into short segments for television.

Satisfied with their small accomplishment, they jaunted off to lunch together.

As they walked through the newsroom, Emma made a point of not looking for Matt. Hopefully he was out and about, reporting on a sport’s game.

Chapter 3

Emma got wind of a few children’s events taking place in nursery schools before Halloween and set up interviews with their teachers. The young ones were a delight to watch, pretending to be witches or monsters. Their imaginations ran wild and she was envious of their freedom and spontaneity to pretend to be anyone or anything they desired. They took part in all the games and situations with robust energy and enthusiasm. How lucky for them.

Jamie gathered his videocamera and lights and hauled them to the SUV.

She followed with the microphone dangling between her fingers. Those kids couldn’t be any more delightful—so happy and carefree.

Yeah. They won’t be for long.

Don’t be a pessimist. They’ve a ways to go, she said, still cheerful for their innocence.

Before they know it, they’ll be slugging out at a job nine to five and then going home to cook and clean. Jamie bent over the trunk of the SUV, piling cords and lights in a semblance of order.

Don’t be such a downer. What’s not to love about a group of kids excited about Halloween? Her voice bubbled over with enthusiasm from the interviews.

I dunno. Maybe because I know their enthusiasm won’t last. He took