Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I’d never met anyone famous before. Sure, I’d seen a few local celebrities when I lived in Portland, but never someone at the level of fame this author commanded.
He moved through my shop like a panther in his dark suit.
His hair, also dark, gleamed with what had to be expensive products.
Everything about him screamed elegance, and here I stood in my cat-hair-covered cardigan.
“Welcome to town,” I said, delivering Millie to her carved bed on the counter. “Did you have a pleasant drive?”
He spun in place, locking me in an intense stare. His eyes were so dark brown they appeared almost black, and something in my chest tripped in alarm.
“It was fine. Quaint little place you have here. The fireplace is a nice touch.”
They were all nice words. But they landed awkwardly, and I felt myself flush a little. Millie hopped out of her bed and down to the floor, walking toward him. He shied back, putting distance between them.
“Uh, this suit is very expensive. I do not want cat hair on it.”
Millie stopped, one paw in the air, and gave him a disdainful sniff before veering past him, heading toward the bay window where I had a spring-themed display in place. She hopped up and glared at him.
“She’ll behave. So,” I said, forcing a brightness into my tone. “Are you ready for the big event?”
“Event? Oh, the signing. Yes, I suppose. Do you have a bathroom I could use to freshen up?”
“Of course! Please follow me.”
I had a powder room on this level, and absurdly, I hoped for a moment he wouldn’t want to shower or something.
The thought of taking him up to my private quarters above the shop did not appeal.
He’d probably have a heart attack from the amount of ivory fur that seemed to cling to the rugs no matter how many times I vacuumed them.
I flipped on the light and stepped aside so he could enter. He gave me a brisk nod and shut the door in my face. Well then.
The water turned on as I walked away, but my steps slowed when I heard him speaking.
“I’m here. No. Nothing yet. It should be fine. I’m not worried about it.”
A guilty feeling lodged in my chest, and I forced myself to keep walking. I didn’t need to eavesdrop on my guest of honor. I busied myself behind the counter, stacking the most recently released Moorehead books again. I’d already done it twice, but once more wouldn’t hurt, right?
It took an age for him to reappear. His face was slightly flushed, and his eyes darted around, never stopping on anything for more than a second or two. He wiped his nose and sniffed. My shoulders tensed as I recognized the signs. Oh boy.
“I need to grab something from my car,” he said, breezing past. “When are we starting? I was expecting a crowd by now.”
“In about an hour. Please feel free to walk around or check out the town while you wait. I’m sure people will line up soon. We’re pretty laid-back here in Timber Falls.”
I didn’t miss the sneer or the way he wiped his nose again, checking his fingers for white residue. Suddenly, I regretted booking this event.
“I see. Well, I’ll grab my things and get prepped. Gotta give the people what they want, right?”
He grinned, his handsome face transforming into something almost approachable. It didn’t last long. He sneered again and pushed through the door, heading for his expensive car. I squinted at the license plate, seeing the rental tag.
“Well, he’s not what I expected,” Millie said after she launched herself onto the counter. “What did you make of his conversation in the bathroom?”
“I tried not to listen. Did... Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“If people don’t want cats to hear what they’re saying, they should speak more quietly,” Millie said. “It’s not my fault I have superior hearing. He’s worried about something. I wish I could have heard what the other person was saying. He smells of fear and something else.”
“What have I gotten us into, Millie?”
She leaned into my touch, her soft purr settling my nerves. Moorehead grabbed a sleek black case out of the car and headed back inside before she could respond. I forced a smile as he came in.
“I’ll sit over there,” he said. “I have a few things I need to work on while I wait. Do you have an outlet for my laptop?”
I rounded the counter and led him over to the seating area. Luckily, I’d left one chair positioned close to the wall.
“Here you go. Do you need anything to drink or eat? My friend runs the cafe next door. She’ll be bringing over the refreshments soon.”
“Do you have any sparkling water? Not the name-brand junk. I prefer NEVAS or Bling. My publicist should have provided you with my list.”
I’d never even heard of those brands before. And Natalie had not informed me of his preferences. She’d said he was very laid back and easy to please. I resisted the urge to snort. Natalie was mistaken.
“I, uh, no,” I stuttered. “I have bottled water...”
He waved me off with a sniff and took a seat.
“No, thank you.”
He opened his laptop, and I scurried back to the counter, wishing I could disappear.
Cancel the event. Anything to make this awkward feeling go away.
I tried to busy myself sorting things, but every time I made a noise, I’d earn a glare from my guest. I settled for standing motionless behind the counter, counting the seconds until he was gone from my shop and my life.
He’d disappeared twice, presumably to use the bathroom, and put away his work things. Now, he was pacing my shelves, pausing every now and again to give unsolicited commentary on his fellow authors. My jaw was clenched so tightly I was sure an emergency visit to the dentist was next on my list.
“This guy,” he said, pointing to another book in the thriller section. “Talk about a hack. I don’t know how his publishing house stays in business.”
The bell over the door chimed, and I nearly leapt for joy to see my friends standing there. Sandy slipped past them and delivered the takeout box. That joy was short-lived as I saw Jo ready to square off with Moorehead. Could this day get any worse?
“So, how do you come up with the bad guy? Do you plan it all out in advance, or are you more of what Olivia calls a pantster?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.
“A pantster?” Moorehead asked, frowning. “What on earth is a pantster?”
“She means pantser,” I said, peeking around Jo.
His expression cleared, and he smiled. In that moment, I could almost forget how rude he’d been. Almost.
“I see. Well, tell you what. Once everyone is here, I’ll be more than happy to go in depth on my craft. It’s quite detailed, actually. One would think being an author is easy, but I assure you, it can be as tough as digging ditches. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
He chuckled, and my friends nodded, obviously enraptured by this man. Luckily, I was immune. I turned as more people filed in, spotting Evelyn Miller. She gave me a smile that was just two shades short of shy.
“I hope I’m not late,” she said as her friends, Marcie and Dorcie, joined her.
Don’t ask me which one was which. I was still terrified of calling them Morcie and Darcie.
“No, you’re early,” I said, taking her coat. “Please, take a seat. Meg will be here shortly with the refreshments.”
Evelyn nodded and swept toward the quilting ladies.
At one time, I would have battened down the hatches to prepare for a battle of the ages when these groups met.
But now, things had mellowed. Evelyn was finding herself, and we’d done our best to include her in our activities, and bit by bit, she was thawing around the edges.
Henry Jenkins stood in the doorway, with Ruthie Everett, our octogenarian librarian, on his arm. Ruth’s hair was tinted slightly purple, and she was beaming as she spotted the author standing near the shelves.
“Oh, he’s really here. I can’t believe it. I’m so glad you’re doing this, Olivia,” she said, squeezing me into a hug. “I’ve been telling all my patrons to visit. It’s not every day we get an author of his caliber in Timber Falls.”
Henry nodded, warm eyes crinkling at the corners. The slight smell of pipe smoke soothed my ruffled feathers.
“How’s Ava?” I asked.
“She’s helping her dad at the restaurant. I thought this might be a little too adult for her.”
“That reminds me, Henry,” I said, taking their coats. “I plan on booking a few children’s authors soon. Ruthie, that might be a fun event for the kids’ reading group to attend.”
Her eyes twinkled as she nodded.
“What a lovely idea. I’m so happy you came to town, Olivia. Look at all this fresh life you’re breathing into the place. It’s magnificent.”
They continued into the store, and the next wave of townsfolk entered.
A few I knew and had seen often in the store.
A few more strangers in passing that I’d seen while shopping at Fannings, the local grocery store.
I got everyone settled as Meg and one of her helpers, Kelli, showed up, laden with trays.
“Come in, come in,” I said, holding the door for them. “Here, let me help. I’ve got the tables set up right over there.”
“Drew’s right behind us with the drinks,” Meg said. “I brought a good variety for everyone, hot and cold options.”
“You’re the best, Meg,” I said as she bustled past.
Her husband, Drew, appeared, lugging a huge cooler.
“Oh gosh, Drew, let me help,” I said, reaching for one side.
He grinned and shook his head.
“Oh, this is nothing, Olivia. I’ll bring in the coffee pot next.”
I stood aside while he lumbered in. I truly had the best friends a person could ever ask for. Once everything was set up, Meg and Drew stayed, sending Kelli back to keep an eye on the cafe and close up for the day.
Meg leaned in close.
“You look nervous. And he looks a little...”
“Strung out?” I filled in.
She gave me a shrug and glanced at Drew. He nodded, narrowing his eyes as Moorehead launched into an animated story that had the people captivated.
“I’d say so,” he rumbled, putting an arm around Meg’s shoulders.
I tore my eyes away and looked onto the street, hoping to see Rob’s pickup. He’d promised to stop by, but I knew that with his job, sometimes things just came up. You could never schedule emergencies.
Millie surveyed everyone from her safe spot on the counter, looking like a queen, and a soft smile came to my lips as everyone took a seat, ready to hear what Moorehead had to say.
Maybe this was going to turn out just fine after all.
I cleared my throat and waited for the buzz of conversation to die down.
“All right, everyone,” I said. “It’s my great honor to present Jackson Moorehead, the acclaimed author of The Silas Thorne series. Thank you so much for coming. Jackson? The floor is yours.”
He gave me a noble bow and smiled at the crowd.
I watched as he launched into an obviously prepared monologue, stuffed full of clever analogies.
His particular brand of magic worked on this crowd.
If I hadn’t seen slivers of who he’d shown himself to be earlier, I might have been captivated, too.
As it was, I merely listened, keeping an eye on everyone while I stayed behind the counter, next to my cat.
She stiffened, her hair fluffing out so much she looked three times her size, and stared out the window with an intensity that grabbed my attention.
“Olivia...”
Whatever she was going to say next evaporated as an explosion rocked my little shop. I grabbed for her, throwing myself in front of her as my hearing cut out. I couldn’t hear the people screaming, but I could feel their shock in my soul as smoke billowed in through the broken bay window.