The Stardust Readers Retreat #2
“No,” he murmured back. “But the mix-up with the rooms. I suspected something was wrong.”
Victor beamed. “Today, we’re discussing What Makes a Story Unforgettable.”
Jo smiled tightly. “That wasn’t my panel title,” she said, loud enough for Eric to hear.
Eric didn’t look surprised. “Mine either.”
Victor leaned in to speak into the microphone. “Let’s begin with a simple question.” His gaze fixed on Jo. “Josephine, your books are beloved for their glitz, glamour, and happy endings. Do you believe a story can be meaningful without any suffering?”
Jo met his stare without flinching. She’d heard questions like this before. The kind of question meant to devalue her work.
“The short answer, yes. Happiness is meaningful and hard to achieve.” She paused. “That being said, I believe suffering happens whether we invite it or not. What makes a story meaningful is what the characters choose to do with it.”
A ripple of approval moved through the room.
Eric glanced at her, something like admiration softening his expression.
Victor turned to him. “Eric, you’ve made a career out of killing off characters, most of them bad guys, but not all. Your thoughts?”
Eric steepled his fingers. “You can’t call a book a murder mystery without a little death. It makes things interesting, though. It’s also a way to get to the truth, both emotional and factual.”
A few nods from the crowd.
Jo tilted her head. “Truth doesn’t require cruelty.”
Eric smiled faintly. “But does it require optimism?”
The room leaned in.
Victor’s smile sharpened. “Ah. Romance versus reality.”
Another author leaned forward to speak. Jo didn’t notice.
She turned fully toward Eric now. “I would argue romance is reality. The kind where people are capable of growth.”
Eric met her gaze. “Mystery has growth. And it illustrates who people are when they’re under pressure.”
“Same thing,” Jo said. “Different lighting.”
Laughter burst from the audience.
Victor’s jaw tightened—just slightly.
He recovered quickly. “Interesting. And what about love? Is it a distraction from plot?”
Jo answered immediately. “Love is plot.”
Eric didn’t hesitate either. “Love is motive.”
The audience murmured again, pleased.
Aspen, seated between Jo’s feet, let out a low, thoughtful sigh as she lay down, crossing her front paws like a proper canine princess.
Victor glanced down at Aspen. “And what does the dog think?”
Eric answered before Jo could. “She thinks we’re avoiding the real question.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“What makes a story unforgettable?” Eric said calmly, “That’s the name of this panel, right?”
Victor nodded.
“Well, then, what makes a story truly unforgettable is whether the ending feels earned.” Eric leaned back in his chair.
Jo glanced over at him before nodding. “And whether the reader believes it could happen to them.”
For a moment, they agreed. Two perspectives, in perfect harmony.
Victor leaned forward, fingers tapping the table. “Fascinating.” His gaze lingered on them both. “I suppose time will tell whose philosophy endures.”
Aspen growled. A soft warning. Jo reached down automatically, patting Aspen’s head.
Victor smiled like a man who didn’t take warnings seriously.
Jo leaned over to whisper in Aspen’s ear. “It’s okay, girlie, just a difference of opinion.”
The audience laughed.
“I think I ship Josephine and Eric,” someone in the audience said. “It’s like rivals-to-lovers, but in real life.”
The applause came moments later. The room was loud and appreciative.
As the panel wrapped, readers surged forward, buzzing, books in hand, their phones out hoping for autographs and photos.
Eric leaned closer to Jo. “Well,” he said quietly, “that was unexpected.”
Jo smiled. “I told you. Love conquers most things.”
His eyes held hers. “I’m revising my statistics.”
Behind them, Victor gathered his notes, his expression darkening as the room emptied.
Aspen watched him go. She did not wag her tail.
A volunteer looked at the crowd, eyes wide, lopsided ponytail falling to one side, mouth agape. “This is bad.” She hurried out of the room.
Seconds later, a severe-looking woman stormed into the room. Her presence was enough for the readers to collect their things and leave.
She stopped in front of Jo and Eric. “I’m Eleanor Finch.”
“No way, the work you’ve edited . . . You changed the romance market.” Jo couldn’t stop herself from fan-girling.
“Erm . . . Thank you.” Praise made Eleanor twitchy. “There’s been a problem with our signing tables. We’re short tables, and space. Someone delivered your books to the same table.” She muttered something under her breath about none of this would be happening if she had actually been in charge.
“So, you need us to share a table?” Eric questioned softly.
Eleanor showed her teeth. Jo thought it was her attempt at a smile.
“That would be wonderful. If you don’t mind.” Her shoulders sagged.
“Of course not. Readers love a good crossover table.” Jo grabbed Aspen’s leash. “Lead the way.”
They made their way to the signing room, past the line outside already waiting to get in. Eleanor shuddered, it wasn’t much, but enough for Jo to notice.
“It’s at the end of this row. I’m sorry, but I must rush, I have so many other fires to put out.” Eleanor hurried off to handle something more urgent.
Author tables lined the row, a mix of genres ranging from horror to romance and everything in between.
“This must be us.” Jo gestured to the table with their books piled on it.
Aspen curled up under the table before either one of them could take a seat.
Eric smiled. “So it would seem. We better set up before the doors open.”
They worked quickly, emptying boxes of books. Her pastel covers contrasted with his darker ones.
“You good with this?” He straightened her pile of books.
She tossed some themed stickers onto the table. “I am now.”
When they sat, they both arranged their chairs so they were angled slightly toward each other.
“Doors are open.” A volunteer shouted.
Eric leaned toward her. “Are you ready for this?”
“I was born ready.”
The signing went smoothly.
Whenever someone expressed an interest in both their works, Jo slid one of his books off his pile, encouraging the fan to buy both. Eric offered her a marker when someone asked for their event shirt to be signed. They exchanged quiet thank yous, moving closer to each other as the event continued.
They overheard a woman mention how cute they were together, a real-life example of opposites attracting.
Jo leaned over. “Should we correct them?”
“Let them believe.” He winked.
More people came and went, the constant hum of conversation the soundtrack for the event.
“Did you plan to sign together? Is that how you ended up on the same panel?” A young woman asked as Jo signed her book.
Jo laughed. “I wish I were smart enough to think of something like that.”
“This is what happens when poor planning turns kismet,” Eric said.
After that, there was a lull in the crowd.
“You handled Victor’s questions well.” Eric murmured.
She glanced over at him. “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice.”
He opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped at the sound of raised voices. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was tight, controlled, urgent.
“That’s Victor.” Jo whispered. The space between her shoulders tightened.
Eric noticed, but only nodded.
Starla Fontaine stormed into the room, stopping as soon as she saw the crowd. She took a deep breath, smoothing her impeccable dress with her hands. The former showgirl still carried herself like she was on stage.
Victor stepped out behind her, grabbing her arm. He pulled her into a corner of the room.
Jo watched as Starla jabbed her perfectly manicured finger at Victor’s chest. He grabbed her arms. Eric stood, his chair screeching against the floor. Victor let go as if he’d been burned and stormed away.
Starla watched Victor walk away before turning back towards the crowded room. She noticed Jo and Eric watching her, but didn’t acknowledge them.
Aspen lifted her head, watching Starla as she pulled out her compact, checked to ensure every hair was in place and her lipstick wasn’t smudged. She snapped the compact closed before walking in the opposite direction.
“That was . . . interesting,” Eric said as a new group of people approached their table.
Jo took the book offered to her, chatting politely as she signed the book and smiled for the photo.
“I don’t think that disagreement was work-related.” She took a book from his pile and pushed it towards a customer.
He shook his head. “Definitely not.”
“Do you mind if I take a photo with Aspen? I just love that she’s in all your books in some way.” The fan was already crouching down next to Aspen.
Aspen knew how to pose and never missed an opportunity.
“Of course, Aspen loves photos,” Jo said.
Starla reentered the signing area, weaving through the crowd until she stood at their table.
“I wanted to thank you for being so accommodating. Sharing a table, doing a panel together.” Starla looked like she was posing for photos as she talked to them.
Jo almost looked around for a camera. “It’s been fun. And the fans have been raving about it.”
Starla pursed her lips. “A happy accident then. I must be going to ensure tonight’s event runs smoothly. Thank you again.”
They watched her sashay away.
“She’s . . . Interesting. I know the theme for the event involves showgirls, but I don’t really understand her part in the event.” Jo pondered aloud.
“The entire event is really promoting a new book about her life and the biopic that’s in the works,” a young woman said.
The ring light attached to her phone was on, causing her long black hair to shine. She clicked off the light before extending her hand.
“I’m Lola Vega, you’ve probably seen me on TikTok or Instagram.” She shook Jo’s hand before turning towards Eric.
He took her hand. “I’m sorry, but if it’s not about sourdough or crochet, I don’t pay much attention to it.”