Chapter 8
There was no possible way anyone portrayed in the locket photograph could be in the Indianapolis airport, but Tessa couldn’t help scanning every face as she made it through security.
She wrote “book club books,” as they called them, and her writer brain kicked in, too, searching for a potential plot wherever she went.
Sadie Bailey had negotiated a two-book deal, and soon Tessa would have to type chapter one of a whole new novel.
As yet unnamed, unplotted, and unknown. But there was a story around every corner.
She simply had to be open to find it. Maybe it would even be Locket Mom.
On the concourse, the airport was still in overnight mode.
The protective metal grate over the front window of Bursaw’s Bookstore was down and locked, but she peered through the silver slats at the front table, unable to resist. And there, next to the World War II spy book, and the Nantucket book, and the newest Dan Brown, was the periwinkle blue of All This Could Be Yours .
She paused, not another person in sight, and took it all in, hearing the persistent voice of Djamila Parekh in her head.
“Social media, girl,” DJ would remind her.
“Post, post, post. Or they’ll all forget about you. ”
She heard the beeping of an airport jitney and watched it race by, its uniformed driver zooming down the center of the wide aisle.
The beeps faded as it barreled toward the far gates, and she was alone again.
But, it dawned on her, not really. She had just pointed an unmistakable arrow at herself, as specific as those You Are Here notices on the airport maps.
Because now, at five in the morning, anyone who looked on Instagram would know where she was. If they were in this airport, they’d know precisely where she was. And because of what she herself had posted, they’d also know exactly where she was going. Even what gate she was headed for.
“Snap out of it,” she muttered. “No one cares where you are. Gate B42. Go.”
A stream of likes for her airport post had already popped onto her Insta screen. I’ll be seeing you in phoenix! , Superreader77 had posted. Then added a heart, then a book, then praying hands. How could they have seen this post so quickly? Social media was blowing up over Locket Mom.
The whole thing was either creepy or fabulous. Tessa speed-walked past the still-closed stores; flowered handbags, yoga pants, peanut brittle. The minute she got to the gate she’d call the hotel, see if anyone had inquired. She laughed at herself—now she had another family to be responsible for.
B42. Marked for Phoenix, on time. She sat, swiveled her suitcase in front of her, plugged in her phone. A soft ping announced a text.
DJ.
You are a publicist’s dream. Could this be yours? Kidding me? If this writing thing doesn’t work out, girl, come work with me in publicity.
It took Tessa a beat to realize what DJ meant. Tessa typed back.
No no, it’s real :) I found the locket in my hotel room.
DJ’s words appeared on the screen.
Sure. Course you did. Wonderful wonderful you. Maybe in Phoenix you could find something else. Let me know if you get any responses. Where did you get that locket anyway?
Whoa , Tessa thought.
Ha ha, I know u r kidding. Anything new?
Confirming you’re at airport. Let me know when you get to Phoenix. Good news coming, but can’t tell you now.
What?
Safe travels talk soon big love xx
What?
But DJ was gone. So silly, her publicist had thought she’d posted as a publicity stunt, and not out of real concern. Which was a metaphor for something, though Tessa wasn’t sure what. Especially not at this hour.
What good news? she wondered. A second printing, that would be fabulous.
Or another powerful influencer had been spotted with the book.
Or foreign rights sales. Maybe it was a book club pick.
Sadie would know, but Sadie’s early morning workouts were sacrosanct, and Tessa knew never to contact her agent during running hours.
She’d wait for Phoenix. Good was good, and good could wait.
She popped open her socials again. The Love counter on her #LocketMom post clicked up and up, and comments still appeared with blurring speed. Didn’t anyone sleep anymore?
OMG, this post is so Annabelle, y’all. She’s tough, but super kind. IDK this guy, though. But love you Tessa! Good luck!!!!!
Who would leave a necklace in their hotel room? IDK who it is tho.
You should put it in lost and found, Tessa. That person will be looking for it.
You ever put something in lost and found? Forget about it. Those people take everything home.
Those people? What do you mean by that? I worked at a hotel, you don’t know how hard it is.
Love you Tessa! See you in Phoenix! You’ll recognize me by my earrings ha ha. IDK the family either.
It looks like Maine to me. Isn’t Tessa from Maine?
You should not put pictures of people you don’t know on Facebook. I’m surprised at you, Tessa.
She’s trying to help. Leave Tessa alone.
Go, Tessa!!! Come to Portland.
Maine or Oregon?
Tessa knows about Maine.
Where did the Maine thing come from? Tessa’s chest clenched, just a beat.
The waiting area began to fill with passengers, one eating a smelly egg sandwich and another with oregano pizza, the aisles between the chairs barely wide enough to allow roller bags to avoid hitting every seated passenger’s shoes or possessions.
In her peripheral vision, she saw someone take a seat across the narrow aisle from her. She saw the man settle in, pull out a book, open it, and hold it up in front of his face.
Periwinkle blue. And her own photographed face, makeupped and flatteringly lighted, stared back at her.