Chapter 24
The outline of the wrapped locket package still showed through the exterior pocket of her roller bag, and she stared at it as she sat at the airport gate, replaying the whole here-again, gone-again, here-again episode.
The plane was delayed, that’s all they’d heard.
The timing would be tight, but so far, she was still on schedule.
She pulled out her phone, and examined her pictures of the locket photograph.
Was there something she hadn’t noticed before?
Man, woman, girl. A cabin by a lake, because the water was calm, not like the ocean.
Deciduous trees, not pine trees or palms. She was trying to be a detective on a case where she didn’t know the crime.
Hi Tessa.
The hotel, with some news about the package?
Or even Sam, who had somehow tracked her down?
She was making up stories again, she couldn’t help it; like every author, trying to create the most worrisome, disastrous, conflict-filled plot development to crash into the main character.
But you had to hope that wasn’t what happened in real life.
It’s Heather. At ReadRunner. Can u call me? No rush.
“ That could go either way,” Tessa muttered.
She looked at the gate agent, who was studiously avoiding eye contact with the waiting passengers.
Some were dramatically checking their watches.
Others paced, radiating frustration. But for her it was a benefit.
She dialed quickly. If she had to hang up, Heather would understand.
“ReadRunner,” a cordial voice answered on the first ring.
“Good morning, it’s Tessa Calloway. Returning a call from, I mean a message from—”
“Oh, Tessa, terrific. This is Heather. How are you?”
“Good. Good. Sorry if I talk fast. My plane was delayed, but they told us not to leave the waiting area.”
“So frustrating. I’d commiserate more, but I know you need to hurry.”
“I hope so.”
A blue-uniformed flight attendant had opened the gate to the jetway, and some of the passengers stood, expectant, hoping. The door closed again.
“Listen,” Heather went on. “A customer from your event last night wants to send you a present. Wants to know where to send it. I promised them I’d ask, so I’m asking. Your fans do love you so much.”
Tessa heard a sigh.
“If you know what I mean,” Heather went on. “ So much.”
“What kind of a present?” That wasn’t exactly the right question, she thought, as she stared at the outline in her suitcase pocket.
“They didn’t tell me. And to be clear, I’m at the store. So many people around, if you get my drift.”
“Sure.…” Had Tessa heard something in her voice?
“She said she had friends in Denver, and hoped they’d have the fun of seeing you, too. But she was insistent about your address.”
Definitely something in her voice.
“Well, I don’t give out my home address, of course. But tell her—because I’m on the road, send it to Djamila Parekh, my publicist at Waverly? Put it to my attention. And tell her I’m so grateful.”
“Yeah. I suggested that, but she insisted I ask you directly. Um. Tessa? You remember our conversation about, well… remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” Parasocial relationships. “All too well. So—” The crackle came from the PA system again, and Tessa stood. “Oh, I have to go. I hope.”
“Safe travels. But quickly. Can you hear me?” Heather’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
“Yes, I can hear you.” Tessa hunched her shoulders to block out the activity around her. Why did Heather need to whisper?
“The woman who wanted your address. She’s the one who asked about your hometown at the event. Remember? Navy blazer, white T-shirt, jeans? And no, before you ask. I don’t know her name. I did all I could to get her to tell me. But she wouldn’t. In fact, she absolutely refused.”
“Attention, passengers on flight 141 to Denver. An update now on our schedule,” the voice on the PA system began. “We—”
“Is everything okay, Tessa?” Heather asked at the same time. “You okay?”
Say yes, Annabelle said.
“Yes,” Tessa said. “Of course. Completely fine.”