L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

anyone? It’s important that we know.”
Oh God! Why didn’t we get a story straight? How Dell found the booklet, and how she
stored it in her work locker until its rightful owner was found? Because I never thought
there’d be an interrogation, that’s why. Just a grateful owner making a beeline out of
the restaurant, never to be seen again. Now this Matilda woman had my guts in a vise
grip.
“She’s super busy right now, but why don’t I go back there and ask her?”
“Oh, I don’t mind asking her myself,” she said, rising from the table. “I’ll just go poke
my head in the back—”
“Wait!”
Matilda slowly sat back down, her eyes homing in on me.
“I found the journal.”
Matilda’s face relaxed a little, but she made no reply. She just clasped her hands on the
table and leaned in a little closer.
I looked around the empty Café and continued. “I’m sorry I lied. I just, I read a little
bit of it—but only to nd a name, some sort of contact information. But I swear, you
can tell Pauline I stopped after a page … or two. And, well, I was … embarrassed, I
guess. I didn’t want her to be any more uncomfortable than she already seemed. So I
lied. I’m sorry. I feel like such an idiot.”
“Don’t feel bad. On Pauline’s behalf, I thank you for returning the book to her. Our
only request is that you say nothing about what you read, to anyone. Absolutely
nothing. Can I trust you to do that?”
“Of course. I would never. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Cassie, you don’t understand how important this is. You must keep this secret.”
Matilda pulled a twenty from her wallet. “Here’s for lunch. Keep the change.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Then she proered a card with her name on it. “If you have any questions about what
you read in that book, I urge you to call me. I mean it. Otherwise I won’t be back here.
Nor will Pauline. This is how to reach me. Day or night.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, holding the card cautiously as if it were radioactive. Matilda
Greene, and her phone number. On the back was an acronym, S.E.C.R.E.T., and three
sentences: No Judgments. No Limits. No Shame. “Are you, like, a therapist or something?”
“You could say that. I work with women who reach a crossroads in life. Usually
midlife, but not always.”
“Like a life coach?”
“Kind of. More like a guide.”
“Do you work with Pauline?”
“I don’t talk about my clients.”
“I could probably use some guidance.” Had I said that out loud? “But I can’t aord it.”
Yes, I had.
“Well, this might surprise you, but you can aord what I charge because I work for
free. The catch is I get to choose my clients.”
“What do those letters stand for?”