by Rachel Hauck
“Is this the story society? Jett?”
On his feet, Jett faced the big guy, Chuck, from Central Booking. Never thought he’d see the man again, but in the moment, he was kind of glad. They clapped hands.
“What are you doing here?”
Chuck held up an invitation. “I have no idea. I found this in my car and thought, shoot, why not? What else am I going to do on Monday night? Been driving all weekend for a limo service.” He circled the room, whistling at the books. “Look at this. Giving me a panic attack. Like I’m back in school only without football and cute girls.” He spun around to the chairs, gaze landing on Coral. “I take that back.” He greeted her, hand extended. “Chuck Mays, at your service.”
“Coral Winthrop.”
Chuck’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer, his giant smile rivaling the wall sconces, before turning to Ed. They exchanged names and pleasantries before the big guy took the chair next to Coral.
“So, what’s this all about?” Chuck glanced around. “Winthrop. Same as the old New York family?”
“The same. And my great-great-grandfather built this library, but I did not send the invitations.”
Jett endured the “Who did?” conversation one more time. By simple deduction, the group, or society, awaited one more person. Four of the five chairs were occupied.
“Perhaps the person who belongs in that seat sent them.”
Chuck leaned back, curiosity in his eyes. “Why would I get one? I’m not a writer.”
“What do you do?” Coral asked. Her voice reminded Jett of thick molasses.
“Drive for Uber.” He flipped Coral his card, then one to Ed and Jett. “Also drive for Elite Limo. Call if you ever need to arrange a night out in a fancy car.”
“I have a car service,” Coral said, handing back the card. Chuck hesitated, almost dejected, before taking it back.
“I ride my bike,” Jett said.
“Subway for me.” Ed tucked Chuck’s card in the chest pocket of his red-and-blue plaid shirt.
Then the Bower went silent, all eyes on the vacant chair.
“I feel like I’m in one of those escape rooms.” Chuck leaned forward, slapping his broad hands against his legs. “Or worse, a cheap horror flick.” He hunched down, then in a flash snatched at Ed’s shoulder.
The old man jumped up, clinging to his Underwood, his breath labored, his words trembling. “Good grief. Give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry, old man.” Chuck winced. “Just trying to break the tension. I do dumb stuff when I’m nervous. Or angry.” He glanced at Jett then his phone. “How long do we hang around?” He tipped his head toward the empty chair. “It’s eight fifteen. What if this person doesn’t show?”
“Then we go home.” Coral sat tall and relaxed. As if she didn’t have any place to be.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” Jett said. “Anyone a Giants fan?”
Chuck groused and waved him off. “Broke my heart last season.”
“Why don’t we at least try to write something?” Ed tapped the side of his typewriter. “The invitation did say story society.”
“Story doesn’t have to be written,” Jett said. “It can be told. Every day we tell, listen to, live, and breathe stories. What we’re doing right now is a story. People who would’ve otherwise never met are sharing a moment.”
“You two seemed to know one another.” Coral motioned between Jett and Chuck.
“It was a series of unfortunate events,” Jett said.
“Really?” Coral shifted in her chair. “Do tell.”
“Nothing to tell really,” Chuck said. “Do you think this is some sort of reality show?” He scanned the length of the crown molding.
“Why would we be in a reality show?” Ed frowned at the ceiling and any possible, invisible cameras.
“Because Coral here left her groom—”
“What?” Coral leapt up and glared down at Chuck. “I’m not the culprit here. If I were to be on a reality show about . . . well, anything, I’d certainly not invite the lot of you.”
“Chuck, what are you talking about?” Ed leaned into the conversation.
“Coral.” Chuck glanced up at the statuesque beauty. “You are the Winthrop heiress, right? Engaged to a prince in—”
“Is this the story society?”
The door opened, and the discussion crashed to a stop. Jett rose to meet who he believed was the fifth member of this weird, cockamamie “society.”
“Lexa?” If possible, the world stopped spinning. His heartbeat slowed, and his thoughts careened together.
She moved across the threshold with ease, hitched her backpack on her shoulder, and raised her sparkling hazel gaze.
“Jett? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She had more heat in her eyes than the flames in the fireplace. “Did you do this? Send that stupid invitation?”
The backpack slipped and crashed down on her arm. She righted it again as she spun toward the door.
“No, I was hoping the person coming through that door had the answers.”
“Then I’ll say good night.”
Wait. Say something. But he couldn’t move or speak. Just like all the times in the past.
Chapter 4
Lexa
“Wait, whoa.” The massive guy in the Queen Anne jumped up with an easy grace, blocking her exit. “You can’t go yet. You just got here.”
“Trust me. I’m leaving.” He wasn’t the boss of her and she refused to stay in the same room with him. But a spark of ire whirled her around. “So not funny, Jett.” She snatched the invitation from her backpack and tossed it at his feet.
The only other woman in the room faced Lexa. “I take it you two know each other.”
She glanced at the commanding yet feminine voice. Coral Winthrop? “Oh my gosh, you’re Coral Winthrop. CEO, president, owner of CCW.” She jutted out her hand. “Lexa Wilder. It’s so great to meet you. Wow.”
“Likewise.” Coral shook her hand. “Won’t you join us? Maybe we can figure out this puzzle?”
Lexa hesitated, glanced around the circle, then retrieved the invitation from the floor with a cutting glance at Jett and made her way to the only empty chair.
“I’m not a writer. I don’t do story. And I certainly wouldn’t have invited him.” She gestured toward Jett.
“Then why’d you come?” Jett regarded her with his arms crossed, his chin raised, a challenging flash in his eyes.
“A lapse of judgment on my part.” Sigh. The large man sat in the chair next to Coral. He had kind eyes with a bit of smolder beneath.
Jett took his seat. “Let’s talk. See if we can find something or someone we all have in common.”
“I’m Chuck Mays,” the large man said. “And this is Ed Marshall.”
“Nice to meet you.” She sat on the edge of the seat, lowering her backpack to the floor.
She liked the library’s warm ambience and scent of precious old books. The wood fire perfumed the atmosphere with memories and the desire for a s’more.
With an exhale, Lexa released the shock of seeing Jett. Without him, the room and the others in the circle seemed perfect. Like a warm group to hang with once in a while.
She didn’t have many friends since the divorce. Her friends had been his and, well . . .
She pointed to the Underwood typewriter cradled on Ed’s lap.
“My grandma used to have one of those,” she said.
“Only way to go.” Ed patted the side of the machine, smiling.
“Jett, how do we start this society?” Chuck said, perched forward with his arm on his thighs. “See where everyone’s from? Maybe we can figure out what we have in common.”
“Florida,” Lexa said, letting out some of her held breath, relaxing a bit in the alluring hues of the fire and the flickering electric flames of the wall sconces. The hardwoods were gleaming and the rug beneath her feet had to be at least three inches thick. She imagined it to be a carefully preserved Persian.
/> Chuck was from New Jersey. Everyone else, New York.
“Let’s start with the obvious,” Coral said. “You two know each other.” She indicated Jett and Lexa.
“We’re exes.”
“Ah, of course,” Chuck said. “I recognize the animosity.”
“Not on my part,” Lexa said.
“I don’t know, the dagger in your eyes when you first saw him . . .” Coral grinned.
Did she think this was funny? Lexa certainly didn’t, but she admired the woman more than she cared to be offended.
“I was just surprised to see him.” Lexa sank deeper into her soft, well-worn leather seat.
While finding Jett here was an unpleasant surprise, meeting Coral Winthrop made it worthwhile. Coral was a captain of industry. Four years ago she had taken over the archaic CCW, founded by her great-grandmother, and brought it into the twenty-first century.
Lexa could endure the next forty minutes or so for a chance to know Coral better. Maybe work up the courage to ask her advice on heading a company.
“How’d you two meet?” Coral shifted her gaze between them.
“Florida State.” Low, and in unison.
Jett took over the story. “I got accepted at NYC for grad school, where I’m now an associate professor. I asked Lexa to marry me and she said yes. And here we are.”
“Not married,” Chuck said.
“The long and short of it, yes.”
Lexa sank deeper, if possible, in her chair. It felt surreal to sit next to Jett as if he were nothing more than a casual acquaintance.
“Lexa, what do you do?” Seriously, could Coral be any more elegant and graceful, charming, and beautiful? Her features were delicate but pronounced, perfectly molded, as if God Himself took extra care to create such a stunning being.
“Executive for Zane Breas at ZB Enterprises.” She left off assistant because it made her feel like the water girl for the football team where Coral was head cheerleader.
Coral acted impressed. “One of the fastest growing restaurant businesses in the nation.”
“Too fast if you ask me, but we’re hanging in there.”
“I love ZB Burgers.” Chuck’s voice boomed. “Please tell me you’re having Zaney Days in the park this fall. I had a blast there a few years ago.”
“We are, yes.” Did she see a ghost of something in his eyes? “Best fall event in the city, according to the New York Times.”
“And it was Lexa’s brainchild.”
She turned to Jett. He remembered? Ever since his second semester of grad school he had seemed lost in another world, barely raising his head from his books.
Then his brother died and she lost him to grief. Lost him to the world of Mars and characters who lived only in his head.
“Okay, so neither of you sent the invitation.” Chuck rattled off names and places where he’d grown up.
Nothing rang a bell with the others.
Coral asked about charities. None clicked. Then she ran down a list of corporate associations. Still no hit.
Jett ran through his connections via the college. Other than the Winthrops being benefactors, there was no known connection.
Chuck had a thousand Uber passengers, but never once had he dropped one off at the Fifth Avenue Literary Society Library.
Ed lived way uptown and rarely came this far south. He was retired from the New York Times press plant and now worked as his co-op’s superintendent. His daughter was a television producer and lived on Long Island.
“What about Tenley Roth, the author?” Jett said. “Anyone know her? Her great-great-grandfather was Gordon Phipps Roth—”
“Jett’s hero,” Lexa said.
“And he visited this library with your ancestor, Coral.” He shot Lexa a look and she regretted her tone. While she hated sitting next to him, she didn’t believe he was behind this clandestine meeting.
“I’ve met her,” Coral said. “But we didn’t talk about our ancestors.”
“I don’t even know who she is.” The old man with his typewriter slumped lower and lower in his seat, hugging his machine close.
“Got me,” Chuck said.
Another round of “who knows who” and the group concluded they had no common denominator. At least not one they could compute.
“What if this is some sort of cosmic test?” Ed said. “The gods testing us?”
“To what end?” Chuck stood, stretching, pacing toward the bookshelves. “What sort of test?”
Lexa watched him and decided Chuck carried a burden he didn’t want anyone to see.
“If it’s all the same to Ed’s gods, I’d rather not be tested.” Coral brushed her hand down her arm, smoothing the wrinkles from her sleeve. “I’ve been tested enough.”
Chuck returned to his seat. “The prince? Is he the one who tested you?”
“Leave her alone, Chuck,” Lexa said, low and controlled.
She’d read the articles about the American heiress who left her European prince at the altar. They were not flattering.
“Chuck, you don’t strike me as the celeb gossip type,” Jett said. “How do you know about Coral?”
“I drive a car all day. I listen to the news, eavesdrop on passengers. Hey, some of them talk really loud. Right after Coral left him, I picked up two women at the airport who’d just returned from Lauchtenland. They’d gone over to see the new American princess, who they called the Panicked Princess.”
The more he talked, the more Coral’s confidence faded.
“I said leave her alone,” Lexa said.
“Sorry, I’m just saying—” Chuck said, hands raised. “It’s a pretty big deal when a girl leaves—”
“Chuck, would you please stop?” Coral’s stiff posture ended with her hands balled into fists.
Lexa nodded her approval when the beauty icon’s gaze met hers.
“I don’t know why I’m making a big deal out of it,” Coral said after a moment. “I’ve been through far worse, trust me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lexa said.
Coral revealed a side of the elite life most people didn’t see or understand. The constant scrutiny.
“What can a girl expect when she leaves a prince at the altar?” Coral brightened by a sheer act of her will. “So, what’s our little group about? Are we a one-and-done? Victims of a prank? Failures at solving a mystery?”
“I still want to write my love story.”
Ed. All eyes fell on him. Jett started with a low chuckle, then Coral, followed by Chuck and Lexa. Last but not least, Ed.
“Well . . . I do.” He held up the typewriter. “The world needs to know about me and my Esmerelda.”
“Not sure I can be of help,” Chuck said. “I’m divorced. And clearly these two”—he pointed to Jett, then Lexa—“didn’t have a happily ever after. Or Coral.”
“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” Coral said. “To learn about love from Ed.”
Lexa peered at Jett from under her brow. She’d loved him with every fiber of her being. He had been her soulmate. Her best friend. Nothing could ruin, wreck, or penetrate their love.
By the time she realized they were the frog in a boiling pot, it was too late.
“I’d rather learn about business from you, Coral,” Lexa said.
“Me?” She pressed her hand to her heart. “I’m not sure I’ve much to offer. I’m sure I could learn a thing or two from you and your boss. I’ve never been on the cover of Forbes.”
“I can help Ed with his manuscript,” Jett said. “Chuck, what about you?”
He shrugged. “I can drive people places. Not Uber unless I’m in your neighborhood, but with the limo service. I have some latitude. And I like to eat.”
Jett raised his hand. “Me too. Anyone for food at these gatherings?”
“Are we seriously considering another meeting?” Lexa said. “What for?”
“Don’t you want to know who sent the invitation?” Ed said.
“We tried to figure it out. We don�
�t know.” Lexa’s rebuttal bounced about the room. “What would be the point? Besides taking up everyone’s Monday night?”
“I wouldn’t mind making the time,” Coral said. “After the thing, I’ve been sort of socially isolated. All I do is work.”
“I work all the time, but come to think of it, I’m pretty much a loner these days.” Chuck peered at Lexa. “Can you stand seeing Jett one night a week?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m cool with it if you are,” Jett said.
“This is how I see it,” Chuck began. “None of us knows who sent those invites, but I’d like to see if we can figure out why we’re all here. Anyone else?”
One by one, hands went in the air. Coral, then Ed, followed by Jett. With them all staring at her she had to give in. Because she was also a joiner. She wanted to be liked. Even more, she wanted to be wanted.
And this weird gathering of folks seemed to want her. Even her ex.
“I’ll give it one, maybe two more weeks,” Lexa said.
“Good.” Chuck popped his hands together. “I already sort of like you guys.”
They’d just decided when a sweet-faced librarian peered around the door.
“Closing time.”
Slinging her old FSU backpack on her shoulder, Lexa exited the Bower with Coral, chatting about the strange evening.
“I guess we’ll see what the future holds,” Coral said as she moved toward the car waiting for her. Ed and Chuck wished Lexa a good evening and headed off together.
Jett rolled his bike up next to her.
“Are you sure you’re okay with—”
“I’m fine.” She smiled. “This isn’t how I ever thought I’d see you again.”
“Nor me.”
She wished him a good night and headed for the subway. The lights and sounds of the city carried her through the dark.
No question she never wanted to see her ex-husband again. But as the train rattled and shook its way underground toward her Greenwich Village stop, something shook loose in her, and Lexa Wilder felt a little bit more free.
* * *
Jett
Seeing Lexa for the first time in two years knocked him sideways. He had tried to talk to her after the judge banged his gavel, declaring their five-year marriage over, but she bolted before he could shed his talkative lawyer.
