then a petite young Asian woman wearing a pink polka-dot lab coat entered the room. “Did you need something, Dr. Longo?”
“Yes, Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to Carleen Wimmer. She’ll be sleeping in the Elvis suite for the next three weeks.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Wimmer,” Hannah said, holding out her hand.
Mia shook it, surprised by her firm grip. “Please call me Carleen.”
“If you wish.”
Longo set Mia’s bag on the end of the bed. “Hannah is assigned to work this half of the sleep lab. She’ll get you all hooked up for tonight, then I’ll be in to answer any questions you might have and to tuck you in.”
“All right,” Mia said with a smile. No one had tucked her into bed since she was ten years old—not that her Italian mother hadn’t tried. But Mia’s independent streak had kicked in at an early age.
She still remembered the time she’d informed her grandmother that she never intended to marry because husbands were too bossy, though she did plan to have six children. The poor woman had almost keeled over from that pronouncement.
Shocking her family had turned into a fairly routine occurrence, though she rarely did it intentionally. They just didn’t understand that she wanted more than the life they had mapped out for her.
Like taking karate lessons instead of ballet. Or skipping out on catechism class so she could rehearse with her heavy metal band. Her cousins had lovingly dubbed her the black sheep of the family, though Mia hardly deserved the title. She wasn’t rebellious, just unconventional by Maldonado standards.
When her parents had balked at her decision to enroll in design school instead of choosing a more traditional career like teaching or nursing, Mia had chosen to pay her own way through college.
Then she’d moved to Philadelphia, choosing the city by spreading a map of the United States in front of her, closing her eyes and letting fate guide her finger. When she’d first arrived, Mia had found a job designing display cases for a furniture outlet store until she’d saved enough money to strike out on her own.
Judging by her current financial predicament, she hadn’t saved enough. But the last thing she wanted to do was return to Chicago a failure, fulfilling her family’s dire predictions. Mia wanted to prove to them and to herself that she could make it on her own.
If the radio advertisements brought in enough new clients, Mia’s Makeovers could survive. Her only obstacles were succeeding in impersonating her best friend and sleeping in an Elvis suite.
At least she’d passed the first test. Harlan left the suite without a backward glance, apparently convinced that she really was Carleen Wimmer.
“You can change in Graceland,” Hannah said as she fiddled with the dials on the jukebox.
Mia’s gaze went to the elaborate mural on the wall. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s a pocket door that slides open,” she replied, pointing to the door of the mansion. “It leads to a small bathroom.”
Mia didn’t see the door until she walked right up to it. “This is amazing,” she said, sliding it open.
“Dr. Longo spares no expense to make his research subjects comfortable,” Hannah replied, fluffing the pillow before laying it on the bed.
“Is he really a doctor?” Mia asked.
“He’s made some very generous endowments to Parker University, so they gave him an honorary degree. He even set up an internship program for students interested in research and development. That’s how I came to be here.” A smile flitted across her small mouth. “Though I have to admit it’s not quite what I expected.”
“Me, either,” Mia acknowledged, grabbing her overnight bag off the bed. By the time she emerged from the Graceland bathroom, Hannah was ready to hook her up to the jukebox.
She climbed awkwardly into the bed as Elvis sang “It’s Now or Never.”
“So is this your first time as a research subject?” Hannah asked, sweeping the bangs off Mia’s forehead to attach the wire cables.
“Yes,” she replied, then hoped that was the right answer. Carleen hadn’t been able to remember all of the questions on the personality profile.
Mia took a deep breath, telling herself not to panic. What was the worst that Dr. Longo could do if he discovered she wasn’t Carleen? Kick her out of his sleep lab and demand his money back.
Okay, the money would be a problem. But worrying about it wouldn’t help. She’d done enough worrying while dating Ian. His erratic behavior the last few weeks of their relationship had turned her into someone she hadn’t recognized—a needy, insecure woman. She had spent hours analyzing and reanalyzing everything he said and did when she should have just trusted her instincts and dumped the cheating jerk before he dumped her.
Now she had a chance to start over. Pretending to be Carleen would give her an opportunity to break out of all her bad habits. To create a new and improved Mia Maldonado.
“Carleen?”
She blinked, then realized Hannah had just asked her another question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She smiled. “You’re all set now. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” Mia folded her arms on top of the thick comforter, her fingers nervously strumming the embroidered guitar threads.
“Dr. Longo will be in soon.”
“All right.” She kept her gaze on the ceiling, afraid if she moved one of the electrodes would become disconnected. Hannah disappeared from view and she heard the door creak open, then close again as the assistant took her leave.
A moment later, the door creaked open again and Harlan Longo walked into her view.
“Hannah tells me you’re ready to go to sleep.”
“I’ll do my best,” she replied, not feeling the least bit sleepy.
“I know you will.” He reached out to pat her shoulder gently. “And I’d like to thank you for assisting me in my research.”
“What exactly are you testing in this room?” she asked, wondering if she’d wake up in subzero temperatures. “If I remember right, you’re researching how different environments affect sleep patterns.”
“That’s correct,” he replied. “But we never tell our research subjects what to expect ahead of time. That way, your anticipation of the change in environment won’t affect the readings. For instance, a subject anticipating a hot room might throw off the bed covers before he goes to sleep. If it’s a cold room, he might wear his socks to bed.”
Mia thought the anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen might have a greater affect on the readings, but it was Dr. Longo’s experiment so she didn’t question him on it.
“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her apprehension. “The music will help you fall asleep.”
She considered telling him it would do just the opposite, but didn’t have the heart after he’d gone to so much trouble with the Elvis room. The more time she spent with Harlan, the more she liked the man—even if he was a little odd.
He walked over to the door and dimmed the lights. “Sweet dreams, Carleen.”
She smiled to herself in the soft glow of the jukebox, thinking Harlan would make a better grandfather than scientist. “Good night.”
As he left the room, she wondered if the rumors she’d heard about him were true. After his wife’s death, there had been subtle speculation in the newspapers that his neglect of her medical condition had led to her early demise, despite the Longos having enough money to afford the best medical care in the world.
Now,