“I’m not really camera-worthy right now,” I said, wiping my dusty jeans. I smelled like decaying leaves.

Maggie waved her hand in dismissal. “You look great. Seriously. In fact, I’d hire you. If you ever wanted to come to the Dark Side.” She did a good Darth Vader voice. “Broadcast is where it’s at.”

I laughed. “I appreciate the offer. I’ve got a lead, so we’ll see.”

In fact, I’d been mentally prepping. The Post had called me to come in for a second interview, and I’d been mulling over potential answers to the hard question, What’s your biggest weakness?

“I’ll give you some time to freshen up if you’d like. Doug wants to grab some B-roll outside anyway.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t a fan of the way I presented on camera.

“Come on,” Maggie said. “It’ll be fun. You’ll be famous.”

I considered that. Kendra had said she wanted attention for the party. Local celebrities. Media coverage. Maybe Maggie would even do a live feed the night of the party.

“Okay,” I relented. “As long as it’s brief?”

Maggie held up her palm. “You won’t even remember I was here.”

I led Maggie inside the house and made us tea—Maggie wanted hers with no sugar or honey. I left her in the kitchen, on a call, while I ran upstairs to fix my makeup and hair, then fastened the ivy leaf pin to my shirt for good luck. When I returned, she was typing on her phone, tea untouched on the counter.

“So, where did you want to do this? Outside?” I asked. Lily would be so excited to have her front graveyard on the news.

“Can we go upstairs?” Maggie asked. “You’ve got a great window up there.”

“The attic?”

“Atmosphere, Theresa.” Maggie grinned. She unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and popped it in her mouth.

Smelly socks and five hundred bottles of nail polish? “It’s a teenager’s bedroom. I’m afraid that’s not the kind of atmosphere you’re looking for.”

But Maggie insisted, and I found myself agreeing. She was in reporter mode, very persuasive. It was like I was watching myself, another braver Theresa, leading them up the stairs. Would Lily be thrilled or mortified I’d brought reporters into her room? And what would Adam think about me letting a camera in our house for party publicity?

“Whoa. This is cool,” Maggie said, spinning around, mouth open, as I frantically made Lily’s bed and picked up the clothes strewn on the floor. But Maggie didn’t seem to care about any of that. She brushed her hand across the beams like she was in a museum, and directed the cameraman, Doug, to take a wide shot from the corner.