Amped: A Kid Sensation Companion Novel by Kevin Hardman

inside the house. Scant seconds later, Mrs. Gutierrez opened the door.
    She was an attractive woman who appeared to be in her early fifties. She had a few wisps of gray in her otherwise dark hair that hung down to her shoulders, but carried herself with a youthful vigor. She also had a gentle smile and – most of all – extremely kind eyes.
    “You must be Alexis,” she said, smiling brightly. “Please, come in.”
    “Thank you,” I said, and went inside.
    She closed the door and offered to take my coat. As she went to hang it up, I took a quick look around, noting that the entry of the home opened up into a sizeable family room. The space seemed to center on a large, sectional couch that was covered with plush-looking pillows. From what I could see, Mrs. Gutierrez seemed to keep an exceptionally neat and tidy home. The only thing that struck me as a little odd was the photos.
    Simply put, there were framed photos everywhere, from the coffee table to the end table to the built-in bookshelves along one wall. Almost every flat, level surface had at least one photo on it.
    Noting a photo on the fireplace mantel in a much larger frame than the others, I walked over and took a look at it. It showed Mrs. Gutierrez in her much-younger years and looking very beautiful in a gorgeous wedding dress. Next to her was an extraordinarily handsome man in a tuxedo.
    “Ah,” she said, coming up behind me. “Look how handsome my Esteban was back then.”
    “Your husband?” I asked.
    “Yes. He passed away about ten years ago. Cancer.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
    “Don’t be,” she said with a smile, and then began guiding me towards the couch. “He lived a full life, we had three beautiful children, and he left us well taken care of.”
    She tossed some of the pillows aside and then sat down on the couch. I followed her lead, sitting down next to her. Unsure of how to begin the conversation, I glanced around nervously for a moment.
    “Oh, I know how it must look,” she said, gesturing at the photos all around. “That I have some weird obsession.”
    “No, not at all,” I insisted.
    “It’s okay. I’m used to it,” she said. “The truth, however, is that Esteban and I, we loved our children. We went to all their events – plays, musicals, recitals. My husband was a photographer, and a very good one. He had the ability to capture the entire essence of a moment in a single shot, so that he could preserve for posterity everything that our kids were involved in.”
    “He did a very good job,” I said, pointing at one of the photos on the coffee table.
    Mrs. Gutierrez laughed heartily, catching me somewhat by surprise. “It’s kind of you to say, but that picture is
my
work, and I know that it’s mediocre, at best. You see, after my husband passed on, I took on the job of family photographer. However, I was nowhere near his skill level, and I learned very quickly that I just didn’t have the eye to do what he did. However, what I lacked in skill, I decided to make up for in volume. Maybe I couldn’t capture the moment in a single frame, but I could damn sure capture it in ten!”
    Now it was my turn to laugh. “Thank you,” I said, chortling. “I think I understand. By the way, where are your children now?”
    Suddenly, Mrs. Gutierrez was beaming with pride. “My oldest – the new mom – is a guidance counselor on the West Coast. My son is an officer in the Army. And my youngest is in undergrad, following in my footsteps and studying to be a nurse.”
    “You must be very proud.”
    “I am. But enough about me – we’re supposed to be talking about you.” She took a moment to look me over, eyeing me almost critically. “So, you’re Mary Jones’ daughter.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “What can you tell me about her?”
    A wistful expression crossed Mrs. Gutierrez’s face. “She was a beautiful girl. Flawless skin; fashion-model features;