“While the outcome of Liz’s story is a happy one, not every ignored child is so successful,” Dana continued. “Not every child has the skills and determination and character to survive. While we are proud of Liz and her life, we must not lose sight of this opportunity to learn from our mistakes. To do better next time so no child ever slips through the cracks again.”
There was a round of applause. Liz felt everyone glancing in her direction and did her best to appear calm and engaged. Because panic was just so unattractive.
“When Liz disappeared, we were left with a small scholarship,” Dana went on. “It should have been hers. The first suggestion was to simply fold the money back into the scholarship fund. But before we could do that, someone sent in a few dollars in Liz’s name. More checks arrived. As someone once told me, fifty dollars can’t change a life, but when everyone gives a little, we can change the world.”
Dana smiled at Liz. “That is how the Elizabeth Marie Sutton Scholarship was born. To date there have been nearly thirty recipients and most of them are here today.”
To Liz’s astonishment, several people stood. Then more joined them. There were exactly twenty-eight woman clapping and smiling at her. Beaming as if she’d actually done something for them.
When the women were seated, Dana invited the four women who would be receiving the money this year to speak. Each of them talked about how she wanted to go to college and how this money made it possible. They thanked Liz, which made her want to point out her big act had been to run away. But maybe this wasn’t the time.
There were a few more speeches, then the luncheon ended. Liz found herself shaking hands with people and accepting their thanks. As much as she wanted to say she didn’t deserve their praise, she was glad that her story had become symbolic of something bigger.
Only in Fool’s Gold, she thought as a teenager was explaining how her mother was sick and the girl had to take care of her younger three brothers. That meant paying for college wasn’t possible. But at Fool’s Gold Community College, she could get a start on her education. All thanks to Liz.
It took a while to work through the crowd. Liz finally made her way to the college president.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana said warmly. “I only moved here a few years ago, so I missed the formative years of the scholarship. However, I’m happy to tell you more women apply for this money than any other scholarship we have.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” Liz stated, pulling a business size envelope out of her purse and handing it over. “I want to make a donation, but please don’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” Dana promised, then opened the envelope and glanced at the ten thousand dollar check. “Oh, my.”
Liz glanced around warily. “Not a word.”
“But you’re being so generous.”
“I want to give back.”
A few weeks ago, Liz would have laughed at the idea of giving back. To a town that had ignored her? But things had changed. Sure, Fool’s Gold wasn’t perfect. No place was. There were good things and bad things, the same with the people. She might have slipped through the cracks, as Dana had described it, but that was as much a symptom of the time. Back then, how you raised your children was a more private matter. People looked away, rather than get involved. She realized it was more important to see that the people in town had tried to change. And in doing so, they’d helped others.
“Maybe you’d like to come speak to our students in the fall,” Dana suggested. “We have a lecture series that’s very popular. I know you’d draw a crowd.”
Liz hesitated. “I’m not sure of my travel plans this fall,” she explained, which was mostly true. “I usually go on a book tour.”
“We could work around that.”
“Maybe,” Liz said, doing her best to sound doubtful. “I’ll think about it.”
Come back here and lecture? She didn’t want to have to make a special trip. Although if she was still living here…
No, she told herself. Not here. She couldn’t let herself be lulled by a few good days. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life in a place where people felt free to judge her when they didn’t know what they were talking about?
Never, she thought with a firm nod.
* * *
“I CAN GET YOU A DISCOUNT,” Ethan murmured.
Liz stared at the dresser made entirely of twigs. Not logs, not sticks, but twigs. Lots of twigs.
“How does he do that?” she reflected in a low voice. “How is it staying together?”
“You don’t want to know.”
The book festival took place in the main park in town, but as Liz and Ethan walked with Abby and Tyler, she saw there was a lot more than books for sale.
The booths were clustered by subject. All the crafts together, the cooking across from the travel section. Novels were at the far end, but Liz wasn’t due there for half an hour.
“She has a great crowd,” Liz noted, pointing to a large group of people surging toward a booth.
“Cookies,” he told her, grabbing her hand and keeping her close. “She writes a cookbook and offers samples.”
“Great idea. I should do that.” She frowned. “Although I’m not sure what sample I would offer.”
“Blood,” Tyler teased cheerfully from Ethan’s other side.
“Or dead bodies,” Abby said with a giggle. The preteen walked next to her. Melissa had gone off with a couple of girlfriends.
“Very nice,” Liz said. “Where do you two get your ideas?”
They both laughed.
This was fun, she thought as they stopped for lemonade at a stand, then strolled by the quilting demonstration. Part party, part county fair. So far everyone had been friendly enough, calling out to her. No one had said anything bad about her or Tyler.
“Is that a llama?” Ethan asked, pointing.
Liz squinted, then stopped when she saw a small llama in the shade. “Don’t they spit?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“It’s not a llama,” Tyler stated importantly. “It’s an alpaca.”
“They’re like sheep,” Abby added. “Their fibers are like wool and can be made into a lot of different things. Some of the fibers are really soft.”
“Llamas have ears shaped like bananas,” Tyler informed. “Alpaca ears are straight.”
Liz glanced at both of them. “Excuse me?”
The kids grinned. “A lady brought alpacas to camp last week,” Abby told her. “We spent a morning learning about them.”
“Impressive,” Liz said.
Ethan ruffled Tyler’s hair. “Nicely done.”
The boy shrugged, but looked proud.
They continued toward the far end of the park. The crowd got thicker and Liz noticed big posters featuring her books. It was strange to see huge publicity photos hanging from trees.
“Is that you?” an older woman asked, stopping her. “You’re Liz Sutton?”
Liz smiled. “Yes.”
“Oh, I’m such a fan. I can’t wait to have you sign my books. I drove in from Tahoe this morning. I told my Edgar that we were spending the day in Fool’s Gold and that I was going to meet you.”
The woman smiled at Ethan. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Liz separated herself from Ethan and the kids and moved toward the woman. “I’m signing from one to three, then from four to six,” she said. An impossibly long time, but Montana had insisted. Now that Liz saw the crowd, she had an idea that maybe she would be selling books for that long.
“I think the lines are going to be long,” Liz continued. “Did you bring a book with you? If so, I can sign it now.”
The woman beamed. “Would you? That would be so nice. Edgar wants to get home before dark.” She sighed. “You know how men are.”
Liz nodded and got a pen out of her purse. She took the offered book. “What’s your name?”
“Patricia.”
Liz wrote a note, then signed the
book and handed it back. Patricia patted her arm.
“You’re lovely. I knew you would be.” She winked at Ethan. “And your husband is very handsome. No wonder you have such nice-looking children.”
“Thank you,” Liz said.
Patricia excused herself and left.
“Why did she say that?” Tyler asked. “Dad isn’t your husband. You should have told her.”
Liz crouched in front of him. “She was trying to be nice. Sometimes it’s easier to accept the compliment than explain. Besides, both you and Abby are nice looking.”
“Jason’s parents are married,” Tyler declared.
She stayed where she was, eye level with her son. “Yes, they are.”
“You and Dad aren’t married.”
“No, we’re not.”
“You didn’t get a divorce.”
“That’s right.”
She could feel Ethan hovering, sensed that he wanted to help. But what was there to say? Eventually Tyler was going to figure out that she and his dad hadn’t followed a traditional path.
“You didn’t get married at all.” The words sounded like an accusation.
“It’s complicated,” Ethan described, drawing Liz to her feet and putting his hand on Tyler’s shoulders. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“I don’t care about that,” Tyler argued stubbornly.
Abby looked uncomfortable. Liz took her hand and smiled reassuringly.
“You should be married,” their son announced.
Liz held in a groan. “An interesting idea,” she said lightly. “But not one we’re going to discuss right now and certainly not here.”
“But I—”
“You heard your mother,” Ethan reiterated firmly. “She has a signing. This isn’t the time to deal with the subject. We’ll talk later.”
“I want to talk now!”
“Come on, Tyler,” Ethan said firmly. He glanced at her. “All right with you?”
She nodded and Ethan led Tyler away.
Abby hovered close by. “Should I go?”
“I thought you wanted to be with me for the first part of the signing. It’s okay. Really. Why don’t you come with me until you meet with your friends at one-thirty?”
“Okay.”
They walked toward the booths at the far end of the park.
“Tyler’s mad,” Abby observed.
“I know.”
“He said he always wanted a dad, but you wouldn’t talk about his. He didn’t know how to make you. Sometimes he got really sad and stuff.”
Liz didn’t know if she wanted to hear more or not. “I remember he would ask a lot. It’s complicated.”
“Grown-ups always say that, but if you don’t tell us stuff, how can we learn?”
Liz smiled. “You’re pretty smart.”
“I know.” Abby grinned.
The preteen’s point was a good one. Maybe it was time to explain the truth to Tyler. That Liz hadn’t exactly pressed for Ethan to know about his son, and later fate, in the form of Rayanne, had intervened. She would discuss the idea with Ethan later.
Liz saw the signs pointing toward the signing area and was surprised at how many people had already lined up. Rather than go through the crowd, she and Abby went around, down by the lake, then back up through the trees.
“Do I have leaves in my hair?” Liz asked as they broke through several bushes and came out behind the booth where she would be signing. “I don’t want to look—”
She came to a stop and stared at the stacks of boxes from her publisher. There were at least a dozen. Maybe more. Both hardcovers and paperbacks.
Liz held in a groan. Montana seemed to have gotten ahead of herself. Enthusiasm was great, but if a significant percentage of the books didn’t sell, Liz’s publisher wasn’t going to be happy.
She saw her assistant Peggy waiting by the table and hugged her. “You came.”
“How could I miss this?” Peggy asked. “The great book signing caper. This is a lot of inventory.”
“Tell me about it.”
Liz introduced Peggy and Abby.
“I was feeling guilty about wanting to look at the quilts,” Peggy conceded with a laugh, “but you’re going to be busy for a while.”
“Yes, there’s plenty of time to come back later.”
“You’re here,” Montana said, rushing up to greet her. “I think we should start a little early. The lines are so long. Hey, Abby.” She hugged Liz, then the girl and introduced herself to Peggy. “I have water and pens. We’re going to take turns holding the books open for you to speed things along.”
Liz couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the book boxes. “Don’t you think you got a little ambitious with the ordering?”
Montana laughed. “Trust me, Liz. I know what I’m doing.”
“I’ve never sold that many copies in a single signing before. Not even close.”
“Then we’re going to break a record, aren’t we?” She patted Liz’s arm, then turned to Abby. “Want to take the first shift with holding open the books? I’ll show you how.”
“Okay,” Abby agreed cheerfully.
They walked toward the booth. The people in line began to clap and call out to her. Liz eyed the crowd and felt a little better. There had to be at least sixty people waiting. If they each bought a book, maybe she wouldn’t embarrass herself with poor sales. But someone had to have a serious talk with Montana. Optimism was great, but one had to be practical, too.
* * *
“I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY,” LIZ said, nearly five hours later as she approached the end of the signing. Her right arm ached, her fingers had cramped two hundred books ago and she was exhausted.
Montana laughed. “Never doubt the power of positive thinking.”
“Or great advertising.”
They’d gone through box after box of books and the crowd had never seemed to get smaller. Liz hadn’t had the hour break in the schedule, instead she’d signed straight through, talking to fans, posing for pictures and answering questions about various story lines.
“Has it occurred to you that people love your books?” Montana asked.
“Not this much. I need to ask for more money.”
Montana laughed, then turned to the next person in line.
Liz sipped water, then threw herself into author mode, focusing on the reader. Each one mattered. She wanted to know what they thought of her stories, what moved them the most. They were the reason she wrote.
A half hour later, the line had dwindled. She could actually see the end of it, which was great because she was close to running out of books. She’d half expected Ethan to bring Tyler by but she hadn’t seen either of them. As she glanced up to scan the crowd, she noticed a tall, thin man waiting at the end of the line.
What caught her attention was his intense gaze. He stared at her with a focused expression that made her uncomfortable. After a few seconds, she looked away.
She shook off her uneasiness and smiled at the woman next in line. The signing continued. It was well after six when Montana murmured, “Here’s the last one.”
“Hello, Liz.”
She looked up and saw the thin man who had creeped her out earlier. He had medium brown hair and watery blue eyes. His skin was pale and there was something about his expression that made her uncomfortable.
“Hi,” she greeted, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “I hope you weren’t standing in line too long.”
“Not at all. I wanted to see you. To talk to you. I would have waited forever.”
Talk about icky, she thought, grateful she wasn’t alone with the guy.
“Thank you,” she said. “So, can I sign a book for you?”
“I already have all your books.” He eased closer. “I thought we could end the day together.” His voice lingered on the last word, as if making a point. “Would you like that?”
Liz glanced around for Montana but her friend had been pulled aside by one of the volunteers. No
one else seemed to be paying attention to what was happening.
Which was fine, she told herself. Every writer had a few crazy fans. The important thing was not to overreact to the situation.
“I appreciate the offer, but I have plans,” she answered smoothly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sign a book?”
Something flashed in his eyes. Anger. No, that wasn’t right. It went beyond anger.
“How about a picture?” he asked.
“Sure.”
She rose, then hesitated. Normally she walked around the booth to stand next to the fan, but this time that didn’t feel right.
“You’re going to take one of me by myself,” she said, more command than question.
“Sure.”
But instead of pulling out a camera, he grabbed her arm. The action was so unexpected, she didn’t even react. She simply stared at his hand closing over her skin.
“We’re going to be together,” he told her. “Forever.”
In the nanosecond it took the words to sink in, her brain finally reacted.
“Get the hell away from me,” she screamed as loud as she could and wrenched free of his grip.
He grabbed for her again, lunging toward her. She picked up one of her last hardcovers and struck him.
“Get away!” she yelled again, hitting his shoulder, his hands, his head. “Stop it.”
He plowed into her and knocked her down. “Shut up,” he hissed, slamming her head onto the grass. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
Suddenly there were people everywhere. Dark shapes flew at her, then the air was thick and she couldn’t breathe. The man let go of her. Coughing and gagging, she sat up, shifting so she was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to suck in air. Her throat burned, as did her eyes.
A familiar voice told her to try to relax. Ethan.
She turned to him, his outline blurry through her tears. “W-what?” she asked in a croak.
“Pepper spray,” he said, lightly touching her back. “Give it a second.”
“Pepper spray?”
“You were a casualty of your own rescue.”
He pointed and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Over a dozen old ladies were beating the man with their purses and dousing him with pepper spray. Several police officers hovered nearby, as if they couldn’t get close enough to help the guy. They didn’t look like they were trying very hard.
Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing PerfectAlmost PerfectSister of the BrideFinding Perfect Page 49
