Chapter Fourteen
Andrew
Rosie Lucas’s garden was truly spectacular.
As Andrew followed another of the winding paths, this one leading along the fence that separated her yard from a trail down
to the beach, he was surrounded by a sensory overload.
Soft twilight cast long shadows across colorful beds. Some of the flowers had closed for the night while others were only
beginning to bloom, sending their intoxicating fragrances through the air.
One of his favorite coping mechanisms when he felt overstimulated was to try describing every real-life scene in his head
as he might try to write it. How the dark silhouettes of partygoers moved around the yard like graceful shadows, how the rhythmic
crash of waves below mingled with muffled laughter and conversation on the light breeze that rustled through the leaves, how
the rich, earthy scent of damp soil and bark mulch mingled with sweet jasmine, spicy carnation, delicate roses.
A sense of tranquility washed over him like those waves against the sand, and he eased down onto a wooden bench overlooking
the water.
He was enjoying the taste of salt on the air when he became aware of someone else walking along the path toward him. He felt
an instant magnetic pull, as clear as the inexorable rhythm of the tides, when he recognized Rosie in the fading light.
“No fair hiding out,” she said as she approached. “You’re supposed to be out there meeting the neighbors.”
“My threshold for meeting new people was exceeded some time ago. I’m taking a breather, then I’ll probably grab the kids and head home.”
“You’re not enjoying yourself?”
“I am. I like meeting people. Maybe not a few hundred at once. That’s one of the reasons I became an author, so I can spend
the day with my imaginary friends.”
“How do you handle book tours? Press appearances? I saw some of the publicity you did when your book was made into a movie.
You seemed to have no trouble with that.”
It seemed odd, wrong somehow, to think of Rosie watching him in interviews before he ever knew she existed.
“I can handle anything in small doses. More than that, and I end up exhausted. I have another book tour coming up later this
year when the new book comes out. I’m not really looking forward to it.”
They both turned their heads at the sound of children’s loud shrieks and laughter. He spotted Zara, her face bright with happiness
as she raced across the lawn, followed quickly by her younger brother.
As usual, his heart ached with love for these two extraordinary little humans.
“Your kids seem to be having fun. I believe they’re playing freeze tag with some of the other kids, organized by my friend
Nina’s teenage daughter and her friends.”
“It’s nice that they’ve made a few friends.”
“And you haven’t?”
He made a face. “A few. There’s you.”
Even as he said the words, he had to ask himself if they were true. Were they friends? He wasn’t entirely sure. He only knew
that he definitely liked Rosie Lucas. Of all the people he had met in Wood Briar, she was the one who most intrigued him.
He certainly hadn’t dreamed spicy dreams about any other women in town.
Thank heavens.
“I was admiring your garden. It will probably be years before I can enjoy the same kind of lush escape at Stormhaven.”
“The gardens there are in pretty rough shape,” she agreed. “But you can always hire people to help you with them.”
“Do you have any recommendations?”
“Sure. We work with some great landscaping companies on the properties we develop. I’ll come up with the list.”
“I want the one you use,” he said on impulse. “Your yard is gorgeous.”
The sound of her soft laughter rippled through him as if she had caressed his cheek.
“I don’t use anyone. Only myself, I’m afraid.”
He blinked, taking in the neat flower beds, the trimmed hedges, the exquisite trees. If anything, seeing her garden and knowing
how much passion she must have poured into it only added to his fascination.
“It’s lovely,” he said truthfully. “I feel more at peace here than I think I have since I came to Wood Briar.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, a sound of sheer pleasure. “That’s lovely to hear. I’m so glad. I’m sorry I interrupted your moment of
zen.”
She rose to go and he immediately regretted his words.
“That’s not what I meant. Stay. You’ve probably been on your feet all day, getting ready for the party.”
She shook her head. “It hasn’t been that bad. I do have to go, though, as much as I would love to stay here with you and enjoy
the sunset.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s lovely, especially with the storm clouds building off shore. We’ll probably have rain later tonight.”
“I meant, why do you have to go.”
She sighed. “I have guests. I need to grab a few more things out of the kitchen.”
He rose as well. “I’ll help you,” he said.
Though she looked surprised at his offer, she led the way to her comfortable kitchen. Along the way, she pointed out her herb
garden and the heirloom roses she had rescued from a jobsite when they were going to be torn out.
In the kitchen, she handed him a few platters of cookies. “We’re running low on desserts. Would you mind taking these out?
And, yes. They’re storebought but the bakery in town does such a good job that nobody ever seems to care.”
“No problem.”
He grabbed the platters and carried them outside, dropping them at the long rows of food tables. On the way back, he bumped
into a couple of women he had been introduced to earlier. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember their names.
“There you are,” the shorter of the women said. She was a lovely brunette with sharp dark eyes and graceful features. He could
easily see her as a courageous warrior in his books, with a fragile loveliness that he suspected concealed steely strength.
“Remind me of your names,” he said.
“I’m Mei Lin and this is Nina,” the woman who had spoken to him answered.
“We’re Rosie’s good friends,” Nina said. “In fact, we’re in a book club with her. Has she mentioned it to you yet?”
Andrew could feel his shoulders tighten.
He really hated book clubs. He loved the idea of them, and he was flattered whenever one of them wanted to feature his books, yet he always felt uncomfortable with the idea of trying to interact with people who read his book to dissect it and parse every word.
Talking about his books was awkward enough. It was even harder to answer question about a process that still seemed mysterious
and magical to him most of the time.
He was not a writer who analyzed everything he did. He simply wrote. While he admired those who planned out every word and
constantly focused on subtext and imagery, that wasn’t his process and book clubs tended to make him feel inadequate because
of it.
“We call ourselves the Wood Briar Sea Witches.”
“Ah. Great name.”
“We’re not really witches,” Mei Lin assured him.
Nina rolled her eyes at her friend. “Obviously. We are strong, fierce women who like to take care of our own problems. We
also like to read books about strong, fierce women. We would love to have you come and talk to us about your various series.
Rosie was supposed to ask you.”
“She did not.”
“I think she felt nervous about it,” Mei Lin said. “Rosie doesn’t really like fantasy.”
Yeah, he figured that out already, when he heard her in the bookstore dissing his books.
“Most of our other members love you and your books. And, of course, the movie. I know they would be thrilled to have you.”
“Would you consider it?” Nina asked. “It would be a very casual affair. Stress-free is our motto. I promise, we’re mostly
harmless.”
“Mostly?”
Nina grinned. “Yes. We can be savage toward the patriarchy. Fortunately, your books are very women-empowered and we love that.”
He instinctively wanted to say no. But this was his new community, along with his children’s. They needed to live with these
people and their children. He didn’t want to potentially risk alienating a group called the Wood Briar Sea Witches. Something told him that
would not be a very wise move on his part.
“I can definitely check my calendar,” he said, hoping an evasive maybe would suffice for now.
“We try to meet the third Tuesday of the month,” Mei Lin said eagerly. “We’re free anytime. You could come this month, if
you want. I know most of us have read your books.”
So much for that idea. They were determined to pin him down, apparently.
“I’ll have to see. I’m on a book deadline and don’t have a lot of free time.”
She seemed undeterred by his evasiveness. “Great. I’ll reach out. What kind of contact do you prefer? Email, text, carrier
pigeon?”
“Email is fine. You can find my email through my website.”
Nina looked suspiciously at him. “We need the personal one, so we can be sure it will reach you. You must have a different
one than the contact info on your website.”
“That one will reach me, I promise.”
Mei Lin rolled her eyes. “You seriously can’t read every single letter from readers that shows up in your inbox.”
“I do.”
He didn’t tell her he loved connecting with his readers. He did have the occasional angry reader, annoyed by something he
had written or quick to point out a mistake, but he mostly enjoyed them.
Hearing how his words touched someone or made them laugh or motivated them to make a change helped the long hours spent over his keyboard feel not quite so solitary.
“We’ll email you, then. I really hope you can make your schedule fit.”
“I’ll do my best.”
After checking on his kids, who seemed to be having a great time now playing cornhole with several other children their age,
he returned to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what drew him there. He could have easily struck up a conversation with one of
the groups of people who gave him friendly greetings.
Still, something about Rosie called to him.
In the kitchen, he found her preparing another tray, this one full of small pinwheel appetizers.
When he walked in, she lifted her head and gave him a bright smile.
“I totally forgot I made these a few weeks ago for the party and stowed them in the freezer. People are probably done eating
but there’s no sense leaving them in my freezer. They’ll thaw in only a few minutes.”
“Ah.”
She narrowed her gaze suddenly. “Why are you back here? You should be out meeting people.”
He certainly could not tell Rosie Lucas that he was drawn to her like iron filings to a powerful magnet. “I came to see if
you needed help with anything else.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“And I have met plenty of people. I actually just bumped into a few of your friends out there.”
She looked up from arranging the pinwheels on the plate. “You’ll have to be more specific. For the most part, every person
out there is my friend in some capacity.”
“A few of the Wood Briar Sea Witches. Mei Lin and Nina.”
Somehow, she managed to laugh and grimace at the same time. “Don’t tell me. They asked you to come speak to our book group.”
“They did.”
“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. Everyone will understand.”
Perversely, her words only made him want to agree. “I told them to reach out with some dates and I’ll try to make my schedule
fit.”
“That’s very generous of you. I know your life is chaotic right now, living in a construction zone while you’re trying to
meet a deadline.”
“I’m always happy to talk to readers,” he said. “Even readers who find my work trite and overhyped and my female characters
wooden nerd fantasies.”
She froze, her gaze flying to his. He watched, fascinated, as color seeped across her lovely features. “Oh. You heard that.
I was afraid you had.”
“I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. It was rude of me.”
“You weren’t rude. I was. I should never have said that about your books.”
“Why not? If that’s how you feel, you shouldn’t lie about it. I had to accept a long time ago that not everybody will love
my books.”
“I do like them. You’re a great writer and wonderful storyteller. I can’t help it that fantasy has never been my jam.”
He wished now he hadn’t said anything. He had only made her uncomfortable, when they were truly beginning to establish a friendship.
On the other hand, better to get it out into the open than have it simmering between them, at least on his part.
“Rosie. It’s totally fine. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“I’m so embarrassed. What must you have thought about me and about The Rainy Day Bookshop?”
“I thought you were a reader expressing your opinion of my books.”
“Rudely.”
“Okay, I was a little put out at first. It’s like somebody telling you your kids are ugly. But if everybody in the world all
loved the exact same books, publishers would only put out iterations of that very same book again and again.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“The other day you showed me a secret passageway to my house I had no idea even existed. Books are like portals to a magical
land. The thing is, everybody’s magical land looks different. Every reader steps through and creates a world there that is
uniquely his or her own.”
“I’ve heard it said that every reader takes something different away from a book, depending on their own life experience.”
“I can tell you that’s true. I’m always amazed at what readers tell me they glean from my books, things I never thought about
or intended. It’s one reason I struggle to know what to say at book clubs, because they sometimes want to add deep, layered
meaning to each paragraph and sentence and story choice, when I’m really trying to tell the best story I can.”
“You do, Andrew. Your books are beloved for good reason.”
He shrugged, embarrassed that he had revealed so much about himself to her. He gestured to the platter. “Do you think these
are ready to go out?”
She blinked and looked down. “Yes. They should be.”
He wanted to kiss her.
The urge swept over him out of nowhere like a sneaker wave, fierce, sudden and inescapable.
“I’ll take these out,” he said, his tone curt.
As he hurried out to the party, the rush of noise hit him hard. He would stay only a little longer, he decided.
His social budget was about spent and right now he wanted nothing but to grab his kids and return to his manuscript, their
cramped carriage house apartment and his crumbling house overlooking the sea.