by Winnie Reed
“It’s an innocent writer’s conference.”
“Yes, and you took an innocent weekend trip with your best girlfriend last month, and look how that turned out. Not to mention the opening of that resort.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter that I travel for work all the time and nothing normally happens,” I sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Just the same, young lady. Your sainted mother—you know, the woman you were just joking about—worries herself sick over you. You owe it to her to be careful.”
Then, to my surprise, a twinkle came to her eye. “But if you have to get in trouble, be sure to call that gorgeous detective friend of yours. I doubt Sylvia would have a problem with the two of you spending more time together.”
I blushed, even though I had no reason to. “Joe’s married to his job,” I informed her. Though in the back of my mind, all that did was remind me of him losing his wife. Poor guy. And poor girl. I guessed if my spouse was killed by a hit-and-run driver, I’d throw myself into work, too.
“Only because the right girl hasn’t come along.”
“I think you and Mom are two peas in a pod.” And that wasn’t necessarily a compliment. I hadn’t told anybody about Joe’s life, because it wasn’t my story to tell. Besides, my romance-fixated mother would probably keel over if I told her Joe wasn’t only a hot detective, but a hot detective with a tragic past.
Either that, or she’d start picking out names for our children.
“I’ll leave you ladies now,” Nell announced, swanning her way toward the door. “See you soon.”
“See you soon?” Darcy muttered once the door closed behind Mom’s best friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I gave up trying to understand most of the people in this town a long time ago,” I whispered. “Anyway, I’d better get going, too. If I’m quick enough, I might get a decent spot in line for the book signing.”
To my surprise, Darcy’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t know if I’d spend my time, if it were me.”
“I thought you were a fan! And her books sell like crazy, you just said it yourself.”
“I know. I was a fan. But it seems to me her work has gone downhill, to be honest, especially the last couple of books. I wasn’t about to say that in front of Nell. She’d still be here, arguing with me.”
“I don’t read enough of her to know either way,” I confessed, picking up a copy of the newest release. “But maybe I’ll pick this up and have her sign it and give it to Nell as a gift. We can exchange copies.”
“You’re too thoughtful.” She rang me up, since she couldn’t exactly afford to give her inventory away for free, even to a family member. And she was watching the dog for free, too.
Or, for free books. But still.
“I guess I should head out.” I blew out a sigh.
“What’s the matter? You’re dragging your feet.” Darcy’s eyes—the shade of blue I always wished mine were—narrowed. “Come on. You can’t fool your big sister.”
“I don’t know. I have a funny feeling.” I pressed a fist against my stomach. “Right here. I can’t put my finger on what it’s all about, but I can’t shake it, either.”
She tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm. I think that’s a good thing.”
“A good thing?”
“Sure. You usually waltz into situations thinking nothing could possibly go wrong. And something usually does. Now, if you’re feeling negative, that probably means everything’s gonna be just great. Maybe you swing next door and tell Mom before you drive off, just to make her feel better.”
“Hilarious,” I groaned. “Okay. I’d better go. Lola, come say bye.” I crouched, patting my thighs. “Give me a kiss.”
Lola was unimpressed, gazing up at me from the comfort of her doggie bed.
“Ouch,” I muttered, shaking my head. “You sure know how to make a girl remember her place in the world.”
Chapter Three
The conference was being held in a sprawling hotel which was also home to a casino, several restaurants, and a few stores. One of the last holdouts from the time when Paradise City was a powerhouse of gambling and the casinos were a staple of the local economy.
It was also big enough to hold hundreds and hundreds of writers, editors, agents and the lucky fans who’d managed to snag tickets to meet their favorites. By the time I arrived at the hotel, two hours before early bird registration was due to start, it was already a madhouse.
So much for the early bird getting the worm.
I wheeled my suitcase behind me, reminding myself of what Raina had explained. It’s just a matter of being friendly. This was my mantra the whole way through the cavernous lobby, whose marble and wood surfaces didn’t do a darned thing to absorb the sound of hundreds of excited convention goers. Not to mention the excitement, bells and whistles and conversation in the casino just beyond.
I should’ve packed earplugs.
“This is my fifth convention so far this year,” the woman in front of me gushed to the woman in front of her while we waited to check in at the front desk.
“Wow, five?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Doesn’t it get repetitive?”
Wrong question. The woman’s forehead creased a million times as she frowned my way. “No.” Like I’d just suggested she walk across hot coals or drown a puppy.
“Oh. Okay.” Strike one. Better to keep my mouth closed. I wasn’t even part of that conversation, but I’d jumped in like I was. Just trying to be friendly, the way I was told. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be forced.
There was a tap on my shoulder, and I was almost sure the finger that did it belonged to somebody who wanted to tell me to mind my own business. Maybe they’d been to six or seven such conferences and were ready to educate me on the ins and outs and how it most definitely did not get repetitive.
Instead, the girl was smiling. I realized then that most of the people waiting to check into the hotel before checking into the conference were female.
“I think five sounds repetitive, too,” she whispered. “But I wouldn’t have the guts to say it out loud, especially if I didn’t know who I was talking to. Unless you did know.”
“I didn’t,” I admitted, wincing. What if I’d just insulted somebody important? She might’ve been the almighty Deidre Price, for all I knew, or somebody equally as famous.
“Ah, well, I’m sure it’ll be okay.” She stuck out a hand. “Georgia Steel.”
“Emma Harmon.” I shook her hand but couldn’t help wondering. “I’m sorry, but my curiosity is killing me…”
“Yes, it’s my real name. Honest. Wanna see my driver’s license?” She was halfway toward pulling out her wallet before I burst out laughing.
“No! No, I believe you. That’s a terrific name. It belongs on the front cover of a book.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I published my first book last month.”
“Really? How cool! So is this your first conference as an author?”
She nodded, her eyes wide. Nice, soft brown eyes. I always noticed those first. Hers were eyes belonging to somebody with a warm heart. And who happened to be nervous as all get-out. “I’m worried I’ll leave here without anybody knowing my name,” she confessed.
“Do you have a table or booth reserved?”
“Sure. But that doesn’t mean anybody will come by.”
“I’ll come by. I’ll make sure people know your name.” I winked before turning toward the desk, where it was my turn to be checked in.
It hit me that I’d just promised something I had no idea how I’d live up to. Or whether it was worth living up to that promise. I hadn’t read a word this girl wrote, but I was already her hype woman.
Was that what Raina meant? I tended to take people under my wing when they needed somebody. It was true for Robbie Klein. It was true for Nate Patterson. Was Georgia Steel my new cause? I tapped my bank card against the countertop, frustrated with myself for falling into old pattern
s.
“Sorry,” the kid behind the desk grimaced, taking my frustration as a sign that I was frustrated with him. “Our system’s overburdened right now. All these check-ins at once.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” I assured him with as kind a smile as I could. “My head’s all over the place. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks.” He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, in a shirt that was too big at the collar and cuffs. This was probably a summer job. “Could you tell the rest of the people in line to give us a break?”
I had to laugh, though I was careful to keep it gentle. “I don’t know if it would do any good, I’m afraid.”
It wasn’t another few seconds before I heard the sharp whispers behind me. Right away, it was clear the people doing the whispering were in a fight. Even though I couldn’t make out the words, at least not right away, there was no ignoring the urgency.
Raina was right. I was nosy. Who wouldn’t be in that situation? I had to know what was going on back there. I strained my ears to listen, turning my head ever so slightly in the process.
“I told you to leave me alone.” That was Georgia, and she wasn’t happy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right. I’m sure you don’t.” That was a man, for sure, and he sounded bitter. Snide.
“I really don’t! And if you don’t stop this, I’m going to report you to the police. I might even get hotel security right now.”
“I’m a guest at the conference, too, honey,” the man quipped. “And all I have to say is, I wanted to chat with a new author whose face I recognized. That’s all.”
“Leave me alone.” Georgia sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “Whatever you’re thinking is wrong. You’re wrong. Let it go, okay?”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe I should talk to her, instead. I bet she’d thank me. I bet she’d—”
I didn’t give him the chance to finish talking about what she’d do, whoever it was he was talking about. “Excuse me,” I said as I turned around. “You’re being rude to this woman, and I’d be happy to ask for security to step in if she won’t do it. I’ve been listening to your whole conversation and would back her up in a heartbeat.”
He was tall, thin, with a shifty way about him. He wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t keep his eyes on me. They kept darting back and forth. “Maybe turn around and pay attention to yourself,” he spat.
Even from where I stood, I caught a whiff of his breath. It wasn’t pleasant.
“She asked you to leave her alone.” This time, I raised my voice, and several of the women also waiting in line up and down the length of the front desk turned to see what was going on. “You should do what she asks, sir.”
He was about to be outnumbered, and he saw it with those shifty, beady eyes of his. Already there were people whispering, murmuring, giving him appraising, disapproving looks while Georgia tucked light brown hair behind her ears and blushed until she looked like a tomato.
He gave up, but not before giving me probably the filthiest look anybody had ever given me in my whole life. It was the sort of look a person feels in their bones. He wanted me dead. Or at least permanently maimed.
“Are you okay?” I asked Georgia once he’d disappeared into the crowd. I saw his tan cap bobbing up and down a few times before he vanished.
She was shaky, and her eyes glistened with tears that hadn’t made it to her cheeks. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? We could still get a security guard over here—”
“No.” The tone of her voice surprised me, going from weak and trembling to strong in less than no time. “No, I’m okay. Really. He’s a bully. I’m not worried about him.”
Her face told another story. Her chin quivered, her face was still as red as ever.
“Listen. If you need anything, let me know. Okay? Even if it’s just a buddy to walk with you to the next session. I’ll give you my number.” And I did, and she programmed it into her phone and called me so I could have hers. By the time our little exchange was complete, she was smiling.
“I owe you something for saving my skin,” she breathed, bending to reach for one of her bags. More like a box on wheels with a handle attached, really. Inside were books, dozens and dozens, all with the same cover.
“Ooh,” I breathed. It was so pretty; a gorgeous couple in an embrace against a dark blue background that shone like satin. Her name was printed on the bottom.
“It’s yours,” she offered. “The least I can do after you were so nice.”
“Are you sure? You’re here to sell these, not give them away.”
“I can afford to give one away. Don’t even worry about it. I owe you more than that.”
I was just about to thank her for being so generous when a loud, high-pitched voice stopped me cold. “There she is! And you thought we’d have to look all over the place for her!”
I almost dropped the book. “No way,” I breathed, spotting a familiar duo on their way across the lobby. “No, this isn’t happening.”
“Who is that?” Georgia asked, following my gaze. “Do you need help getting rid of them?”
“If I thought it would work, I’d say yes. But there’s no getting rid of my mother’s best friends who I’m pretty sure she asked to keep an eye on me this weekend.” I glanced her way. “Long story.”
Aunt Nell waved over her head, while Trixie Graham wiggled her fingers from their place at the back of the line. They had luggage and everything.
See you soon, Nell had cooed as she left the bookstore. Now I knew why.
Chapter Four
“What the heck are you two doing here?” I asked once I’d checked in and doubled back to confront them. “Mom sent you, didn’t she? I can’t believe this!”
Trixie removed her sunglasses, letting them hang from a silver chain around her neck. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anybody wear sunglasses on a chain, but then she had a tendency to lose them. “You might be surprised, my dear Emma, to learn that not everything in the entire world revolves around your inability to stay out of trouble.”
“She means no,” Nell translated with a slight wince which I hoped was due to Trixie’s choice of words. “I’m here as a librarian, of course. I’m a literary professional.”
“And I’m a journalist, just like you,” Trixie reminded me, like I needed reminding.
“But please, don’t tell me Mom didn’t think it was cool beans for you two to be here at the same time as me. Otherwise, one or both of you would’ve mentioned it before now. Tell me I’m wrong.” I folded my arms, tapping a toe against the marble floor.
“Why isn’t this line moving?” Nell muttered, craning her neck to see around the people in front of her.
“Nope. You’re not going anywhere, anytime soon,” I replied with an over-sweet smile. “So you might as well fess up.”
“She did ask us to keep our attendance a secret, knowing you would react this way,” Trixie sniffed. “Otherwise, we’re here professionally. That’s it.”
Of course, what she said made sense. It wasn’t like they could’ve picked up tickets out of nowhere, just because I’d told my mother I was planning on attending. That didn’t mean I had to love the feeling that they’d find a way to watch me all weekend.
“Okay,” I shrugged. “I’ve gotta get my things to my room before the book signing. I guess I’ll see you there,” I added, giving Nell the stink eye.
“I can hardly wait!” she practically squealed.
Even though I was awfully annoyed, I still couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. Nell wasn’t somebody I’d easily imagine practically jumping up and down on the balls of her feet over anything. She deserved a little joy.
“You know, I bought a book to have signed for you. That’s what I get for trying to be thoughtful.” I stuck my tongue out at her as I picked up my bag, but I didn’t really mean it.
Not totally, anyway. Just partially.
Who coul
d blame me for assuming those two were in cahoots with Mom? They usually were, which was why I usually jumped to that conclusion. I’d already been burned by their nosy ways too many times. I remembered then that I had yet to thank Trixie for spreading the rumor that a mysterious ex had come back into my life.
For one thing, Deke wasn’t my ex. We were never anything. And sure, he’d come back after a month of taking care of family business overseas and I hadn’t known a thing about it. But that didn’t warrant our being the top story on the eleven o’clock news, for Pete’s sake.
Only when a handful of women with suitcases gave me a funny look did I realize I was muttering to myself. Awesome. Did the one closest to me put a little space between us, or was it just my imagination?
Boy, this was starting off well.
At least my room was nice, and more than big enough for just me. I knew a lot of people tended to double up during events like this, reaching out to friends or even perfect strangers on social media to see if anybody wanted to share room costs. I had no problem doing that sort of thing, but Haute Cuisine was paying for the conference. One of the glories of a work-related trip.
“Be sure to meet up with Brian Murphy while you’re there,” my editor, Marsha, had reminded me maybe five times via email in the days leading up to the conference. “He’s an old friend of mine. We started out together.”
I’d managed after every such reminder not to point out the presence of thousands of people, all in the same hotel at the same time. And it wasn’t as if the entire hotel was blocked off for our conference. At least, I didn’t imagine it would be. And the casino floor would still be visited by people in town for a day trip or the entire weekend, even if they were staying elsewhere.
Still, I made a mental note to look for him as I unpacked. Such luxury. I had two entire beds to myself. Maybe I’d switch off from one night to the next. Or, heck, maybe over the course of the same night. The sort of wild and crazy shenanigans I looked forward to.
And Mom thought I needed chaperones.
Even so, as I examined the standard issue bathroom—cream and white, tiny soap and other toiletries on the counter—and the room with its view of the parking lot, I couldn’t help but wish for somebody to laugh with. I heard women walking up and down the hall outside the door, giggling together and going over which sessions they planned to attend and who they hoped to meet.
