Chapter 19 #3
“That is such a generous offer. Are you sure you don’t want us to pay you?” Georgia offered.
“No. Consider this our Valentine gift to you,” Nola said.
A gift to the readers and it made the store look good. Plus, some of those writers whose books and advanced reader copies
were being given away would maybe find new readers. Alice’s mother was brilliant.
Alice looked out the window and saw the number of strikers was dwindling. The few remaining were visiting with HEA Books customers
and eating cookies. Kara Bane was talking to a skinny nerdish man in his thirties. It was easy to tell from her expression
that she wasn’t exactly heaping words of kindness on him. If he wasn’t careful, she’d probably roundhouse him. The poor man
nodded and fled. Cookies were probably a better idea.
There was no longer any sign of Mark in the crowd, but here came Scarlet. “That was fun,” she announced, and held up her empty
container.
“Did Mark leave?”
“In a huff,” Scarlet said, and giggled.
“Did you let him have it?” Bettina wanted to know.
“Yes, but subtly. You’d have been proud of me, Mom,” she said to Nola.
“I’m always proud of you,” Nola said. It was a motherly lie. Scarlet had spent too many years making their mother nuts to
believe it, but Alice saw that it brought out her smile anyway.
The little bell over the door jingled and in walked Olivia Carson, followed by her cameraman. “What have you women managed?
The men are scattering like cockroaches.”
“Good analogy,” cracked Bettina.
“Would you like to explain what just happened?” Olivia asked.
“We were showing a little love,” Nola said. “Sometimes you need to set an example.”
“You bribed them to stop with cookies,” said Olivia.
“We offered an incentive.”
Olivia laughed. “Let’s get this recorded for the evening news.” She signaled to her cameraman to start filming. “We are still
at the scene of what started out as a Valentine’s Day strike by a large group of Seattle men. But the strike has lost its
steam. A lot of the men are headed for the flower shop, and it looks like the reason why can be found here in HEA Books, West
Seattle’s romance bookstore. I’m here with Nola Willoughby, the owner.”
“One of the owners,” Nola corrected her. “My daughter Alice is my partner.”
“Your partner in crime?” quipped Olivia, and Alice backed around a bookshelf to make sure she didn’t get pulled on camera.
“No crimes here. Just spreading the love,” Nola said.
“So, tell us what happened?” Olivia prompted.
Alice watched with pride as her mother cleverly shared their strategy—all with grace and good humor. No accusations, no shade.
Although those men should have all felt guilty. Alice hoped that Parker Black would feel guilty, too, when he watched the
news later.
I didn’t do it, Parker texted his irritated uncle after the story of the Valentine strike aired on the evening news. This happened without me and you can tell that to Nola Willoughby.
“I didn’t do it,” he said when his mother called, wondering what on earth he’d been thinking. “This was Jay’s bright idea,
and then one of my listeners took the ball and ran with it.”
“Right over the cliff, it would appear,” said his mother. “What are you going to do now?”
“Move to an island in the Caribbean.”
“Be sure to take a good book to read,” she teased.
“Funny, Mom.”
“Sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t.
“Have I mentioned that I’m thinking about becoming a monk?”
“Somehow, I don’t see that,” she said. “Look, I know you’ve been . . . upset about what’s happened with your last two relationships,”
she began.
“I’ve been upset, as you put it, about what’s been going on around me, by what I’ve seen on social media. You know that. I’m
not the only one this stuff is happening to.”
“I know, and I know you felt the need to write that book. It’s your career and your life. You have to make these decisions
for yourself.” Translation: I’m thinking of disowning you.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” he said. “I’m just trying to bring about change, balance the scales.”
“But is this the way to do that? I wish you’d keep in mind that not all women are manipulative, any more than all men are
selfish and abusers. I know you’d love to sell your book.”
He was on the verge of doing just that.
“And the money will be tempting,” she added before he could share an update.
“It’s not just the money,” he insisted. Well, okay, it was partly the money. It would be a nice chunk of change for his Roth
IRA. And yes, he’d more than once envisioned sending a copy to Luna with the inscription, Thanks for the inspiration.
“But remember, once something is in print you can’t call it back. What do you want to be known for, my son? What do you want
following you down the road?”
“It’s just a book, Mom,” he said as much to himself as her.
“It’s never just a book,” his mother said. “Every author has a message. I want you to be sure this is the message you want
to be known for.”
Maybe it would be best not to share about what was happening with the book. The timing wasn’t right. “This already is what
I’m known for.”
“All right. If that’s what you want,” she said, and she didn’t sound all that happy about it.
A vision of Alice Willoughby holding the book and frowning swam into view. He pushed it away. Warrior princess Alice Willoughby
with her big eyes and freckles needed to stay out of his thoughts.
“It is what it is,” he said. And that was how it had to be.