Chapter 68
“Drink?” Mary asked.
“Just one. But be generous.” Dot shrugged out of her long, pastel pink, faux fur coat and hung it in the closet.
“So, how are things looking?” Mary was following the campaign closely. “Get any new numbers?” She got out a bottle of Sancerre and poured them each a glass and handed one to Dot.
“Oh gosh, it’s so close. Too close to call.
And we just found out the Republican ticket is coming back to Wisconsin twice more this week.
So now we need to get Lopez and Stone back here, too, but they also have to hit stops in Arizona and Nevada.
The travel for them is brutal. But Wisconsin is ground zero.
We’re just waiting for confirmation that one of the stops she makes is Cedar Falls.
If she wins here, she likely wins the entire thing. ”
“And makes history,” Mary said.
“That’s the goal. I feel like everything will be a blur from now until then.”
“Have you heard from Danny?” Mary asked.
“Not since a couple of days ago.”
“Did you ever respond?”
“I didn’t.”
“Dot!”
“I know! I don’t know what to say,” Dot said.
“Jake said that there’s no way he was with another woman.
At least you could get back to him and just ask him what happened that night?
” Mary was relieved when Dot had quickly gotten over her anger when she’d revealed that she’d told Jake what was up during their weekend getaway.
Mary knew all of this was killing Dot and Danny.
“It’s excruciating,” Dot confessed. “I think about him all the time, but now I worry that not only has so much time passed that he probably doesn’t even think about me anymore, but what’s the point if we’re leaving right after the election?”
“That’s not true. He’s obviously thinking of you. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have asked Jake to help him figure out why you’d ghosted him. You’re just telling yourself that because you’re afraid of the truth,” Mary said.
“What truth?” Harper resurfaced from the loft and entered the chat. She wore her matching pajama set in a plaid print and had her hair in a scrunchy on top of her head. Her eyes were red from crying. She carried her laptop under her arm.
Dot and Mary did a double take at their friend’s appearance.
“What happened to you?” Dot asked.
“Gee, thanks,” Harper said, taking a glass of wine from Mary and getting some frozen cookie-dough bites out of the fridge.
Mary caught Dot’s eye and mouthed, “Yikes.”
“Come on, Harp. You’ve been upset since you came in earlier. What happened?” Mary asked.
Harper munched, and Mary and Dot both reached for some cookie dough. Mood eating went better with others.
“So, it was Tommy,” Dot said, making an educated guess.
“Sweet Tommy? What could he have done to make you cry? I’ll kill him!” Mary tried to lighten the moment.
Harper was finally ready to spill the beans. “I was over there helping him get ready for the apple festival. He’s in charge of all the food vendors, and I put together a spreadsheet for him to help get it organized.”
“So far, so good,” Dot said, patiently waiting for Harper to get to the point.
“Well, I went to make us sandwiches while he plugged in data, and when I came back, he was reading my novel.”
“He was? The novel that even we have never seen?” Mary couldn’t believe it.
“Yes. And he was . . . he was red in the face, and I got so mad. I don’t want anyone to read it until it’s done. I’m afraid it’s terrible. And I’m superstitious that if anyone reads it before I write ‘The End’ that it will never be a real book.”
“First of all, that’s crazy. Second, why was his face red?” Dot asked.
“Oh gosh, I can’t tell you!” Harper’s face was now turning pink.
“And did he go looking for it on purpose—to read the novel while you were out of the room?” Mary was dubious.
“He said it was an accident. That he went to do a Google search, and that the novel was on the screen.”
“That sounds plausible, don’t you think?” Mary asked.
“But still!” Harper said.
“But still what? Aren’t you overreacting? He didn’t mean to,” Mary said.
“I still want to know why he was red in the face—what did you write that would make him embarrassed?” Dot asked.
“I don’t think he was embarrassed.” Harper’s hands covered her face.
“So, what was it then?” Dot pressed.
“I think he was . . . aroused.”
“Aroused? What are you writing? You must show us now. What’s the harm?” Mary asked.
“Yeah. Your writing is already cursed, so . . .” Dot said.
In a quick move, Mary reached for the laptop. Harper held on to it, too. They tussled for a moment, but Mary won. She opened it.
“Password!” Mary demanded.
“Ugh, you guys!” Harper said, but she spun the laptop around and used her finger to open the screen.
Dot came behind Mary and they both started reading. Harper covered her eyes with her hands, feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable, not sure how her friends were going to react.
Mary scrolled down as they read quickly together, and Dot’s eyebrows popped in surprise. Within a couple of pages, it was clear.
“Hot damn, girl!” Mary said. “You wrote this! It’s amazing.” She got up to hug Harper from the side. Harper kept her hands over her eyes, filled with embarrassment.
Dot kept scrolling, and then read out loud, “Lit by starlight, the rink shimmered in the clouds, a slick of ice set in the heavens. Gods and Goddesses darted across, their blades sparking trails of fire, frost, and lightning. Every strike of the puck sent shock waves through the skies—and to the young Goddess of Light. She gripped her stick tighter, breathless as the God of Storms cut across her path. They locked eyes, and her pulse stuttered, but she refused to falter. This was not just a game. It was war dressed as sport—and desire disguised as rivalry.”
Dot smacked the counter. “This is incredible!” She was truly impressed. “Holy smokes, Harper. Romantasy! Everyone loves this stuff. It flies off the shelves—just ask Jeanie Jankowski. You’re going to have an instant bestseller!”
Harper opened her fingers to look at them. “You think so?”
“No doubt!” Dot raised her glass, and they clinked glasses. “Look at this.” Then she showed them how on TikTok the romantasy hashtag had a gazillion views. “You hit the jackpot.”
“What I want to know is—who gave you such romantic ideas, huh?” Mary teased her. “No wonder Tommy was red-faced. He was like, wow, my girlfriend is sexy! Wait . . . is this about you and him on an . . . ice rink?”
Harper giggled and said, “Maybe.”
“Come on, Harper. Text him. Tell him you forgive him. He didn’t mean to ruin your surprise. He’s the nicest guy. Don’t torture him,” Mary said.
Harper bit her lip and thought about it for a moment. “You’re probably right. I’m just so embarrassed.”
“Then get over it and send him a note.” Mary handed Harper her phone and urged her to start typing.
“I think I’ll take this upstairs.” She grabbed her laptop and the wine and popped one more cookie-dough bite into her mouth before heading to her room. Halfway up the stairs she turned back. “Thanks. . . . You really like it?”
“It’s hot, Harps. It’s going to be a bestseller! I can feel it,” Dot said, gathering the wine glasses and turning on the hot water to wash them in the sink. “Plus, I’ll do your publicity.”
“And I’ll do your contract,” Mary said. “And remember—you promised I’d be a character in the book. I’m counting on that.”
Feeling inspired, Harper thanked them again and bounded up the stairs, a new pep in her step.
“That goes for you, too, missy.” Mary swatted Dot with a kitchen towel.
“What?”
“You should text Danny. You’re letting your worries about getting hurt get in the way of what you know you should do. I get it—you’re afraid that if you fully open your heart that you’ll get hurt. But that’s not fair to him and I think deep down you know that.”
Dot sighed heavily. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Mary said. “Plus, I know he’s reached out to you several times. Jake told me. At least you could respond. Give him a chance to explain who he was with that night. And even if the answer is that he’s seeing someone else, at least then you’ll know.”
Dot set the glasses on the drying rack. She knew Mary was right. And that her pride was getting the best of her.
“What’s the worst that can happen if you text him?” Mary asked. “You’re always advising us to consider the worst-case scenario. Have you done the same? You’re being overly cautious, and it’s hurting someone else.”
“You have a point.” Dot gave Mary a hug. “I’ll sleep on it.” Then she headed upstairs to answer more emails about the campaign.
Mary wrapped up the cookie dough and put it back in the freezer.
“When did I become the responsible one around here?” she asked.