HAUNTING LIES (Available on Galatea)

CHAPTER ONE (SAMPLE)

"Mia," she called out down the hallway from the kitchen. "It's time to get up, sweetheart. We have a long day ahead of us."

Summer vacation had raced to an end, and for the first time in a month, Miranda had a couple of days off to spend with her daughter before she started her first year at Feynman School.

Her teachers had informed Miranda that Mia was a gifted kid who wasn't challenged.

This resulted in Miranda removing her from public school in favor of a place for children with high learning potential and appropriate maturity to thrive.

Though Miranda was reluctant to send Mia thirty-five minutes away from Washington D.C., it was in her best interests.

A blur of emotions whirled through her. Pride, relief, anxiety. But what she felt most was happiness. To be in this moment. To see her daughter grow.

She grabbed her phone and opened the music app. There was nothing like music to cook to. She found the playlist she wanted, turned it up loud, and started to dance.

Perhaps she should cook Mia breakfast while she waited for her to get up. She checked the fridge and decided to make Mia's favorite: pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

She set about making some batter, dancing her way around the kitchen. Music blaring in the kitchen helped to stave off deep thought.

Miranda finished cooking the pancakes and placed them in the oven to keep warm, and then she started the bacon.

Her phone blasted Jenny Berggren singing a song of a man and a woman in a complicated relationship.

She placed the bacon under the grill, and while it cooked, she whisked some eggs.

She turned to find Mia on one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, her face supported by her small hands.

She wore a sleeveless gray scoop-neck T-shirt with a hanky hem and pink dolphin-cut shorts that she'd slept in. Her brown hair was a tangled mess and her eyes puffy with sleep.

She looked both amused and bewildered. Miranda froze, flushed, then gathered herself.

"You're so weird, Mom," she said dryly.

Miranda smiled at her daughter, held out her hand, and said, "Dance with me."

Her lips tried to mask her smile. "I don't think so..."

"Come on," she said and held out a hand, urging her to join in the dance.

She rolled her eyes but responded, holding onto her and following her lead. They spun around together, going faster and faster, Mia laughing so loud it nearly drowned out the music.

Her smile lit up her face, accentuating her bright blue eyes that enveloped her mother in a swathe of pure love. Miranda grinned down at her as the song came to a close.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, then kissed her forehead sweetly.

"Very," she giggled.

"Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?"

"Sounds great."

Miranda served up the breakfast onto heated plates and set them on the placemats, then she poured them each a glass of orange juice. She hunted in the refrigerator and found some maple syrup.

Mia downed the orange juice in a few gulps and dug into the pancakes. Miranda sat down on the barstool to watch. She smirked.

"What?" Mia asked with her mouth full.