Chapter 8 Broken, sparkly things #2
Appeased, she pulled out her phone and opened that god-awful calendar.
“Well, I had a heated emergency Zoom call with one of Hazel’s foreign publishers over their failure to publish one of her backlist books in their language by the contract deadline.
I took great pleasure in ruining their weekend by explaining that since they are in violation of the contract, we will be selling the rights to their direct competitor, who made a significantly higher offer.
Then I answered a dozen editorial and marketing emails from Hazel’s North American publisher, put some feelers out to two publicity firms because I am willing Hazel’s launch to be so big she’s going to need a publicist. I accepted a Finnish offer for the backlist and touched base with the audiobook production company.
After that, I packed up twenty advance copies and dropped them off at the post office to be sent to some of my favorite influencers. ”
“Jesus, Zoey. It’s Saturday.”
“Yeah, well, I had to make up for all the time I lost packing and buying cars this week. Now, if I don’t get laundry done in the next few days, I’m going to be breaking all the town nudity ordinances.”
“We don’t actually have any of those. One of Story Lake’s founders was a nudist. You haven’t been here for Pantless Day yet. It’s in June.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, and I kind of hope you’re not.”
“Aren’t most literary agents off on Saturdays?” I asked, steering us back on topic.
“Only agents who have more than one client can usually afford to take a day or two off,” she joked.
“And I wasn’t finished with my day. That was all before lunch.
Which was late because I forgot that I’m human and I require fuel.
So I microwaved SpaghettiOs, proceeded to spill them, cleaned up the mess, and then I had a harebrained idea that would promote Hazel and the town and accidentally did an hour of down-the-rabbit-hole brainstorming.
Which completely exhausted me, so it was either crash for a nap, do laundry, or go visit your sister.
And since lying down immediately after eating gives me acid reflux and I hate laundry, I decided to visit your sister. ”
I was impressed. “What’s the harebrained idea?”
“It’s nothing. It’s barely a thought.”
“Disco,” I said pointedly.
She rolled her eyes as she polished off her beer.
“Fine. I kind of thought it would be fun and beneficial if Story Lake hosted a Reader Weekend to celebrate Hazel’s launch.
Readers could book rooms in the lodge. Chevy could host a signing at the store, and then the rest of the businesses could offer book-themed sales or specials to entice readers to visit.
You know, kind of a ‘see the small town that inspired this small-town rom-com’ deal.
If it’s done right, I could invite some influencers and raise both Hazel’s and Story Lake’s profiles. ”
“Zoey, that’s—”
She winced, bracing herself. “Stupid? Terrible? Impossible?”
“Genius,” I corrected.
“Shut up. We’re honesty buddies, not actual friends. I don’t need you to kiss my ass.”
“I’m serious.”
She perked up. “Really? I mean, her launch is only, like, six weeks away. It’s short notice to pull together, but maybe it could be awesome, right?”
We were interrupted by Dahlia’s appearance with our order. I traded food for credit card.
“I think you should go for it. It’s an obvious win-win,” I told Zoey.
She cocked her head. “Thanks, Gage. I need to flesh it out, do some preliminary planning and research before I mention it to anyone. But maybe it could be something.”
The unexpected earnestness surprised me. It mattered to her, I realized. And I liked seeing that side of her. Thankfully, before I could do something stupid like tell her that, Dahlia returned with the receipt and a bag of dog biscuits.
“You better hit the road,” she said. “Jessie just reported there’s a golden retriever blowing the horn out in the parking lot.”
“Damn it, Nana.”
The biscuits lasted all of fifteen seconds, and the food barely survived the drive back to my sister’s. Zoey had to hold it in her lap while I used my arm on the back of the front seat as a safety gate barricading the hungry dogs.
The lights were on in every window when we made it back, something that would have made my brother-in-law complain if he were still with us.
Miller took his electric bill the way he’d taken all life’s normal responsibilities: seriously.
However he’d always managed to balance that with a sense of humor that had entertained us for most of our lives.
He’d been my constant reminder to lighten up and have a little fun once the hard work was done.
The dogs piled out of the truck in a delirious surge of joy, and I took the pizza boxes from Zoey. The spring evening still carried with it a lingering winter chill.
“I’m glad we settled our overwhelming sexual tension,” she joked as we trudged up the ramp to the back door.
“Me too.”
“We’ll always have disco. Now you can go back to barely tolerating me,” she said, opening the door.
I didn’t know what to say as all three fur demons streaked past us inside. I knew I wasn’t as warm and friendly toward her as I was with other people. It was self-preservation, plain and simple. But it bothered me that she’d noticed.
“Food’s here,” she announced over the noise.
My nephews descended on us like twin locusts, relieving me of the food before I was fully across the threshold. Zoey slipped out of her shoes and, with an over-the-shoulder smile at me, joined the chaos in the kitchen.
I took my time slipping out of my shoes and hanging up my coat as laughter erupted around the kitchen island.
“Paper plates, you heathens,” Laura yelled over the noise. “Zoey and I already did every dish in this house once today.”
It was good to see that there was still life in this house. That we could still laugh together. Maybe we didn’t have the highest emotional intelligence or the best communication skills, but I knew for certain that we always had each other’s backs.
I dug out the spare change I always carried in my pocket and found a shiny dime. With a furtive glance in the direction of the kitchen, I bent and placed it against the baseboard under the hook for Laura’s bag.
“Move your ass, Gigi, or there’s gonna be nothing left but crumbs,” my sister called from the kitchen.
I made a show of positioning my boots under the bench before straightening. Zoey’s gaze locked with mine, an unasked question in those pretty green eyes.
I pretended not to notice as I entered the warmth and noise and light of the kitchen.
“Larry, back me up on this. You hate satin, right? It’s unforgiving as fuck,” Cam demanded, gesturing with his pizza. Hazel was grinning from her perch on his knee where she was eating a slice of her own.
“Hold up, Groomzilla. Before you poll everyone on their stances on bridesmaid dress material, Zoey needs to tell you all about her Reader Weekend idea,” I announced.
“What Reader Weekend idea?” everyone demanded.
With her mouth full of pizza, Zoey shot me a convincing death glare. “Damn it, Gage.”
“You didn’t have me sign a nondisclosure agreement.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
And all was right in my world again.