Chapter 1 #2
Roz barked out a laugh at Sheryl’s unexpected declaration. Sheryl grinned, then her eyes brightened again as she spotted someone enter the shop with another jingle of the door.
The man was exceptionally tan, probably artificially so when Roz compared him with Sheryl.
He had a long, slender nose and distinct cheekbones, and his perfect teeth matched the white open-collar shirt he wore under an expensive-looking umber sport coat over slouchy khakis.
His posh brown leather sneakers probably cost as much as all of Roz’s shoes put together.
His brown hair just brushed his shoulders, a bit wavy.
He was polished in a way few locals were, but if he was famous, Roz didn’t recognize him.
“Wayne!” Sheryl called out.
The man grinned and walked over, kissing Sheryl on both cheeks. French, Hollywood, pretentious, or all three, Roz judged.
He took both of Sheryl’s hands. “You look wonderful, darling. Has she arrived yet?”
“We think she’s hiding.” Sheryl wore a bashful expression as he released her.
Wayne had turned toward Roz at the mention of “we.” “Wayne Vandershell.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. His grip was firm and deliberate as he subtly scanned her budget casual outfit of jeans and a green knit shirt. His smile never faltered. “And you are?”
“Roz Melander.” She didn’t see a need to mention her job at the paper yet. After all, theoretically, she had the day off.
“Roz. I’m delighted to meet you.”
Roz, always a little guarded around new people, found herself thawing under the warmth of his charm. Maybe his enthusiasm wasn’t an act, even if his tan was.
“Roz is a brilliant writer.” Sheryl gave him a meaningful glance, and Wayne’s eyes widened.
“Is that right?” he asked. “What do you write?”
“Scintillating summaries of city council meetings, mostly,” Roz replied. “I work for The Courier-Beacon.”
Wayne blinked. “Really? No novels or screenplays in the offing like Sheryl here?”
Roz couldn’t help chuckling. “Fiction’s not my passion.” But Sheryl? That was interesting. “You might want to talk to my colleague Alden. He’s the one with all the imaginative ideas.”
“You’ll have to introduce me.” Wayne scanned the room, then looked at Sheryl. “I need to make the rounds, my love, and have a quick smoke. And, of course, I need to talk to Enolia.” He winked. “Save me a seat.”
“Will do.” Sheryl, the steady woman of the outdoors, fluttered her eyelashes like a debutante at her first ball as Wayne scurried off.
“So, Wayne, huh?” Roz asked.
Sheryl ran her finger over the shiny cover of the book she’d been perusing earlier, tracing the outline of a sword surrounded by roses. “He’s nice. He wants to make my screenplay into a movie.”
Now Roz really was surprised. She’d edited Sheryl’s columns on occasion. Her facts were outstanding. The prose? Not so much. She must rock at dialogue. “That’s pretty amazing. Is he a director?”
“Producer. He’s putting down roots here. Listen, I’d better go get our seats.”
“No problem. Have fun,” Roz said.
She looked around, spotting dark-haired Liani Reyes, who ran Lunaria Lodge with her husband, and strawberry-blond April Reins, who owned a horse stable on the south side of town.
And yes, April’s career was proof that naming was destiny.
Or perhaps she adopted her moniker back when she used to do horse stunts for a traveling circus.
They were chatting with a harried-looking blond woman in her mid-thirties who held a toddler and kept half an eye on two kids in the children’s section. The little boy and girl had used a scarf to tie a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh to a chair and were subjecting the bear to an intense interrogation.
Roz snorted and walked over to say hi to the grown-ups.
After the hellos, Liani did the honors. “Roz, this is Nicole Esquivel. You may have run into her husband, Sebastian?”
She’d certainly heard of him. Sebastian was a land developer and part of the Esquivel family, which mostly kept to itself. It also controlled a lot of land here in Mosquito County and had donated a huge tract to Comet Cove that was now a wildlife refuge.
“It’s great to meet you,” Roz said. “Are you a big fan?”
“I love Enolia Honeywood’s books! Sometimes they’re all that keep me sane.
Mateo!” Nicole called out. “You and Gabriela untie that bear!” She turned back to the women.
“Sorry I’m so distracted. I couldn’t get a sitter, and I really wanted to be here.
Though my husband should’ve picked them up by now. ”
“No problem.” April seemed amused.
“And who’s this little guy?” Roz asked of the munchkin in Nicole’s arms, who drooled as he chewed on a Guardians of the Galaxy action figure.
“I am Groot!” the toddler said.
“Diego!” Nicole corrected him. “He’s obsessed with Groot.” And found Groot tasty, given who he was chewing on.
“Nice name,” Liani said. “Diego, I mean.”
Nicole nodded. “Sebastian wanted to name him after his father, who died when Seb was a boy.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” said April.
Liani looked wistful. “I remember when my boy was that age. It’s a precious time. It won’t be long before you’ll be paying their way through college and watching them get their first jobs.”
Nicole’s stricken look was almost comical.
The idea of raising kids to adulthood must be overwhelming no matter where you were in the process.
Roz didn’t know if she had the fortitude.
She couldn’t imagine motherhood anytime soon, and baby showers gave her hives.
Maybe they just reminded her of everything she’d put off in favor of chasing the news.
She was saved from talking by a voice shouting from the back of the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats!” the woman by the podium called. “We’ll start in just a few minutes!”
The audience scurried for the few remaining folding chairs. April and Liani smiled at each other and dashed toward the seats.
Nicole took a detour to tell her two older kids to stay quiet and leave Pooh alone.
“But I have to pee!” Mateo whined.
“Oh, all right. I’ll take you. Gabriela, be good and stay right there. Ms. Roz is watching you.”
Roz raised an eyebrow. Gabriela gave her a suspicious once-over and exclaimed, “I’m going with you, Mommy.”
Nicole shrugged at Roz and dragged her three-child circus to the back hallway.
Everyone’s a critic, Roz thought.
The podium was empty again, and the musicians started playing another song, so she took a moment to look over the new hot romances. She might not write fiction, but she loved reading it. Sometimes she needed an escape from the facts, especially when they were too grim.
A few minutes later, the woman at the podium had returned: Mae Middleton, proprietor of Big Bang Books.
She wore a flowing dress covered in moons and stars, and her purple-streaked black hair was piled high on her head.
Heavy eyeliner, silver jewelry and a galaxy of tattoos on her pale skin added to the fortune-teller vibe.
Roz liked her look, and she liked Mae, a sweet person she remembered from her days at Comet Cove High. Mae had been a year behind her in school. Roz was thirty-two, but she had to admit the curvy Mae looked a lot younger. Especially when she beamed as she was doing now.
“It’s great to see so many people here!” Mae clasped her hands together, as giddy as a kid at a carnival. “Are you all as excited as I am?”
The crowd cheered, and Mae paused as a pale, balding man in a bow tie and spectacles walked up and spoke in her ear.
Roz looked around for Alden. He was on the other side of the room, but he glanced up to catch her eye.
Almost all the chairs were full, though one remained next to Sheryl, and several people stood among the shelves next to the event space.
Many clutched freshly purchased copies of Enolia’s latest novel, The Murex Murder.
Mae nodded to bow-tie guy, who vanished into the back hallway, crossing paths with Blake Burbage, who emerged and slipped off to the side.
The bathrooms back there were probably getting a lot of use, given the free beverages a young woman in red-framed eyeglasses poured at the refreshment table.
Roz tossed her empty coffee cup in a waste can, quietly accepted a flute of champagne from the bookseller, and turned her attention to Mae.
“To all of you who preordered a copy of Enolia’s new novel, thank you for keeping the lights on!
” Mae said to a round of laughter. “Just show Enolia your golden special-edition bookmark so she knows you actually paid for it”—more titters—“and she’ll be glad to sign your book after she chats with us for a bit.
We have a few more copies in case you haven’t picked one up yet. So … are you ready?”
As the fans clapped in anticipation, Mae pulled her phone from a hidden pocket, tapped the screen and started reading.
“Enolia Honeywood is an international bestselling author of more than fifty books, and she’s synonymous with the term ‘beach read.’ Her success began with the thriller Shellbreak Island, which, just between us, I hear is soon to become a major motion picture. ” The room buzzed.
“In the past thirty years, she’s hit No.
1 on the New York Times bestseller list a dozen times.
She’s currently single—take note, gentlemen!
” A ripple of amusement passed through the crowd as Roz wondered what “currently” implied.
“And she’s just moved into our very own Comet Cove.
And now, with no further ado, I’d like to introduce our honored guest and my favorite author of all time, Enolia Honeywood! ”