CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brody didn’t feel right about attending Jenny’s funeral. Not with this tight-knit community. As an outsider, he worried it would be seen as more of an intrusion than a show of support.
Instead, he spent the day driving through the nearby mountains, stopping frequently for short hikes and photo ops.
He mulled over the things he’d learned from the authors the previous night.
“If you’re serious about writing a book, you need to set a schedule,” a woman named Sylvia told him. “A certain number of hours or daily word count goals will keep you on track.”
“And don’t edit your first draft,” Nancy said. “Just get it on paper and worry about fixing it later.”
They offered software suggestions, various ways to outline, and numerous productivity hacks. Some of it was useless. He didn’t need a plot for a photography book or a climax and resolution in a travel guide. But some of it would come in handy.
He’d shared his current ideas—a guide of generic travel tips, a history of his personal experiences, or a compilation of photographs—and they discussed the pros and cons of each.
When he mentioned the daunting task of sifting through the thousands of pictures he had, they advised him to just take the whole project one piece at a time.
First, decide which book to write. Then divide it into like topics or similar places. Next, organize and outline each section, and finally, start writing.
They didn’t make it sound easy, but after talking with them, it at least seemed doable.
Toward the end of the evening, things took a turn, and soon he realized why Alex had shied away from hanging out with them.
While they were quick to give helpful, practical writing advice, they were even quicker with their unsolicited, brutally honest guidance on his love life. Or lack of one.
It started as an interrogation. They would ask an overly personal question, ranging from how he felt about Chloe cheating to how deep his insecurities went over getting fired, and then sit, poised over their notebooks, shamelessly ready to jot down his innermost feelings, presumably to later regurgitate into their books.
He dodged as best he could and gave superficial answers.
Once they moved on from the inquisition, he got a lecture on love and redemption, which quickly morphed into a personalized action plan for how to find love. One that somehow had him wooing Alex! Because, “wasn’t that feisty cabin manager just the type of woman he needed?”
They ticked off a list of her exceptional qualities and advised him that when he made his move, it was essential he use something they called a “grand gesture.” He wondered how long they’d actually known Alex.
Had they forced her into a similar conversation? Is that why she’d been so cagey by the boathouse?
He escaped before things got too intense, but it was like fighting quicksand. They only let him go after he agreed to meet them again the following evening.
They promised no more intimate questions. Swore they just had a few scenarios they could use some XY input on. He didn’t see how that could hurt, and since he had nothing better to do, he showed up again the next night.
Alex had hemmed and hawed about hanging out with the writers, so Brody was surprised when she limped into the rec cabin that evening.
“I know why I’m here,” he said. “How’d they get you?”
“I was promised baked goods.” Alex looked around suspiciously. “I don’t smell anything good though.”
“Alex, honey.” Sylvia approached. “I was just getting started. Black Forest cake coming up soon. You and Brody can sit here while I make it.”
“I sense an ambush,” Alex muttered.
All at once, they were surrounded and forced to sit side by side at a long rectangular table. The women lined up on the opposite side, notebooks and pens at the ready. It felt like a joint job interview. Even more so when the questions started.
“How old are you, Brody?”
Brody looked at Alex, who shrugged. “Thirty-five.”
Alex’s head swiveled to him. “Seriously? I thought you were older.”
“Why?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. Seems like you’ve done a lot and been a lot of places.”
“How old are you?” he asked, ignoring the nudges and whispers coming from the other side of the table.
“Twenty-seven.”
“Young.”
One woman leaned over to another. “Still could be an age-gap, don’t you think?” she whispered. “Just tack a few years on him?”
“What’s going on here?” Alex asked the group, then turned toward the kitchen and raised her voice. “I don’t hear any eggs cracking, Sylvia.”
Brody bit his lip to keep from laughing as Sylvia’s attention snapped back to the bowl in front of her.
“We’re just looking for some real-life inspiration, that’s all,” Nancy said. “It’s hard to continually come up with original content.”
“Yeah,” Esther added. “After you’ve written two dozen books, all the ideas feel stale. We need fresh takes, somethin’ to get the creative juices flowing.”
“You think Brody and I are gonna magically fall in love right here while you watch?”
“Don’t be silly,” Nancy said. “We’re barely past the meet-cute. You still have to get to know each other, suffer through a falling out, and then reunite even stronger. I mean, duh.”
Everyone murmured their agreement. Alex rolled her eyes, and Brody sat back as she took the lead to defend them both.
“Life’s not a story,” she said. “You can’t just cram us into your predetermined plot points.”
“What’s your deepest fear?” Esther asked, ignoring her accusation. “How were you wounded as a child, Brody? How’s your relationship with your mother, Alex?”
“And…I’m out.” Alex stood. Brody followed suit, equally eager to leave, but not quite as bold in stating his determination to do so.
As they made their way out, a chorus of apologies and promises of no more romance talk wafted behind them.
“I still expect a slice of cake, Sylvia,” Alex called over her shoulder. “Leave it in the fridge.” She shut the door. “Why do I let my sweet tooth get me into messes like that?”
“If you’re that desperate for dessert, I’ll take you to the diner for pie,” Brody offered.
“And fall right into their trap?” Alex exclaimed. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what they want.”
“I heard the pie’s good, but I doubt we’ll fall in love over it,” he said. “Then again, I am pretty irresistible.”
She narrowed her brows at him, but he could tell she was tempted.
“Seems unfair that just to prove a point we have to go without pie?” he said. “Isn’t there a phrase for that? Like cutting off our nose to spite our face or something?”
“You have a point.” She licked her lips. “And I mean…pie.”
“Come on.” He helped her down the stairs. “You can wait in the parking lot while I run and get my car. We’ll have dessert, fall nowhere near in love, and really show them.”
“Fine. But I’m texting my posse to meet us there.”
“Of course. Safety in numbers. I agree. Invite Nick.”
He ran to his cabin for his car keys, and ten minutes later, he was holding open the door for her at the diner.
“Edna?” Alex said to the waitress. “It’s eight o’clock at night. What are you still doing here?”
“Someone called in sick, so I told Mr. Norris I’d stay.” She returned to the booth she’d been sitting in and picked up the book she’d been reading. “Get your own water though, and just holler back at Saul what you want.”
“Don’t worry,” Alex said. “You sit. I’ll take care of everything.”
“We’re closin’ in thirty minutes,” Edna said without looking up. “Don’t make a mess.”
Faith and Nick entered, followed closely by Juliet and Tess.
“Dang. You guys are fast,” Brody said.
“Alex’s death threat put a little pep in our step,” Tess explained.
“Also, it’s not like this is the first time this one’s demanded we meet her for cake.” Faith hitched a thumb at Alex, who had both arms draped over the deli case, studying the contents with great care.
“Plus, you know…pie,” Juliet said.
“Whatda y’all want?” Alex asked. “I’ll serve.”
“Just grab an apple and six forks,” Tess said.
“And a sliver of cheesecake,” Faith added. “Never mind. I’ll get it myself.”
Nick and Brody pushed two tables together while the women made themselves at home.
Alex got into the deli case behind the counter and pulled out an entire pie.
Faith cut herself a slice of cheesecake.
Tess brought six coffee cups and filled them before returning the carafe to its base.
Juliet went to the serving station and returned with a handful of napkins and forks.
“I’m surprised you’re eating dessert without running two miles first,” Faith said.
“I can’t run. Plus, it’s been a rough day.” Alex shrugged. “The funeral this morning. And then a bait and switch from the writers’ group. They got my hopes up for cake, but it was all a ruse.”
“The romance writers?” Juliet asked. “What’d they want?”
“They asked about Blossom.”
“Oof,” Tess muttered. “She who must not be named. Bad move.”
“Who’s Blossom?” Brody asked.
“Alex’s mom,” Faith said at the same time Alex said, “No one.”
Alex shot Faith a death glare and shifted gears.
“You done with campouts?” she asked Tess.
“Almost,” Tess said. “Next weekend is the last one of the season, and thank goodness. It’s getting frickin’ cold up there.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Brody asked.
“Oh, it’s this weekend warrior thing we do at the Outpost. City slickers come from all over and pay a crap ton of money to rough it for a couple of days and learn survival skills.”
“Tess takes ’em into the mountains and tries to make ’em cry,” Alex said. “What are you like, ninety out of a hundred or something?”
Tess laughed. “Not quite. This one should be ripe for some tears though. Temps are supposed to be near zero.”
“You have room for one more?” Brody asked. “Sounds like an experience I could write into my article.”
Tess glanced at Alex, who was sneaking a forkful of cheesecake off Faith’s plate. When she finally looked up to see Tess staring at her, she shrugged. “What’re ya lookin’ at me for?”
Something passed between them, but it happened so fast Brody missed it.
“You’ll need some cold-weather gear,” Tess said. “We rent it at the store, or you can buy it.”
“Since I might spend the winter here, I’ll need a better coat and warmer clothes anyway.”
“Okay, well, come by this week and we’ll get you signed up.”
“So,” Juliet said. “If you’ve got that this weekend, should we look at the weekend after for a Celtics game?”
“I’m in for that,” Nick said. “I’ll check their schedule.” He pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen for a minute. “All right. Home game against the Pacers a week from Saturday. Perfect.”
“Brody, you in?” Nick asked. “Please say yes.”
Brody nodded. “Sounds fun.”
It was nice to be included, and even nicer that it didn’t feel like a courtesy invite.
As they chatted, Brody stole glances at Alex.
Not that he was going to fall in love with her or anything.
But the romance writers had a point about her being independent and smart and beautiful.
If he hadn’t sworn off women and wasn’t here solely to get his life together, she’d be exactly the type of woman he’d go for.
But he had, and he was, so that was that.