by Jessica Beck
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Paige said with a smile. “What is it you wanted to see me about?”
“We’re running out of room in our designated mystery section. May I cannibalize some of the space from the literary area?”
“That will be fine for now. I’m sure we’ll be fine-tuning things here for quite some time, so no worries about tonight, okay?”
Evidently some of my advice had boosted her confidence. Either that, or she was pretending to be calm for her lone employee’s sake.
“Yes, ma’am,” Millie said with a smile as she quickly disappeared back into the shelves.
After Emma and I finished our grand tour, we retrieved the last batch of donuts as well as the candy daggers and delivered them safely to the bookstore.
“That’s that, then,” Emma told me. “I’m taking off now, if it’s okay with you. The dishes are finished, and I’m ready for tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you at the grand opening, then,” I told her.
“You know it. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said.
After Emma was gone, I decided to slip away myself. I had time to grab another nap, and I had every intention of taking advantage of it. Doubling my duties for the day had worn me out, and if I had any hope of staying awake for the night’s festivities, I needed some sleep.
On the way home, I took a chance and gave Grace a call. “Busy tonight?” I asked her.
“I was going to do some paperwork, so literally any distraction you can offer me will work,” she said with a laugh.
“The bookstore grand opening is tonight, and I made some of the refreshments. Want to go?”
“Sold,” she said. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go.”
“See you,” I said, feeling better that I wouldn’t be going to the celebration alone.
It was going to be fun hanging out with Grace.
I only hoped that Jake was doing okay.
I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t feel like leaving a message. Maybe if I tried later I would, but for now, I didn’t want him to know that I was concerned enough to call. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in worrying about him. He was a grown man used to dealing with dangerous situations, and I had to trust that he could handle anything that came his way.
At least that’s what I tried telling myself as I grabbed a light blanket and spread out on the couch.
Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, despite the thoughts flying through my head.
Evidently I had been even more worn out than I’d realized.
Chapter 3
“Is it that time already?” I asked as I opened the door of the cottage, rubbing one eye and trying to stretch at the same time.
Grace was standing there smiling. “Sorry, did I wake you?” It was clear by her grin that she didn’t seem sorry at all.
“No, I was already up,” I said as I moved aside to let her in. Trim and as lovely as ever, Grace had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.
“Liar,” she said happily, and then she stuck her tongue out at me.
“What are you so cheerful about?” I asked as I went into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. Only a strong caffeine injection would get me going after two naps in one day.
“We’re finally getting a bookstore of our very own!” she said excitedly. “I don’t know who said it, but there’s a quote that says something like a town isn’t really a town unless it’s got its own bookstore.”
“That’s Neil Gaiman,” I said.
“Wow, I’m impressed. A literate donut maker. Who knew?”
“I happen to love his writing,” I admitted.
“How did you stumble across him?” Grace asked me.
“Someone left a copy of The Graveyard Book at the donut shop last year, and I fell in love with it,” I admitted.
“Color me impressed,” Grace said, and then she studied my attire. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
I’d changed into sweats and an old sweater of Jake’s after my shower. “Why, don’t I look stylish enough for you?”
“You look lovely,” she lied again.
“Let me get a little coffee in me, and then I’ll be ready to get dressed and go.”
“You’d better hurry,” she said. “I drove in past the bookstore, and there’s already a line forming out front.”
“That’s good news for Paige,” I said. “I just hope we made enough donuts.”
Grace laughed. “It’s not all about business, Suzanne. For once, forget about being a donut maker and let’s just try to have some fun.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises,” I said as I poured two cups of coffee and reluctantly decided to give one to Grace.
“That’s the problem with you small business owners. You can never leave the office behind.”
“You never have that dilemma, do you?” Grace worked for a large cosmetics company, and I doubted that she’d ever worked forty hours in a week in her life, let alone the sixty I used to put in on a regular basis before Jake came into my life and I’d scaled back my work schedule.
“No, ma’am. Once I’m clocked out, I don’t give it another thought. Would you like some help picking out something to wear?”
I looked at her outfit, a stylish red dress cut above the knee and tight around the waist. She looked as though she’d just stepped out of a catalogue. “Thanks, but there’s no way that I can ever compete with you.”
“Suzanne, I only wish that I had your curves.”
“You’re welcome to them,” I said with a smile. I was constantly a little rounder than I would have liked, but my figure seemed to please my husband just fine, so I’d stopped being so critical about it. Well, I was working on it, anyway, but old habits died hard.
I thought about picking out a dress myself, but honestly, I was more comfortable in jeans, and besides, no one would be able to recognize me, it would be such a rare occurrence. I compromised and picked out my nicest jeans and a top that Grace had gotten me for Christmas the year before.
“That looks wonderful,” she said as I modeled the outfit for her. “That top in particular is smashing. I approve.”
“Could it be because you bought it for me?” I asked her with a laugh.
“Hey, what can I say? I have good taste. Just look at my best friend. Now come on. Let’s go.”
I glanced back at the kitchen. “Should we get a snack before we go?” It had been a while since I’d last eaten, and I didn’t think it would be fair to snatch one of my own donuts at the grand opening.
“Tell you what. Let’s go to the Boxcar Grill after the talk. My treat.”
“Sold,” I said. “Are you driving, or am I?”
“It’s a lovely evening. Why don’t we just walk through the park? Besides, it might be tough finding a place to park if we drive.”
“I’m game if you are,” I said.
As we left the cottage and headed through the park, I could see immediately that Grace had been right. It appeared that Paige had drawn a big crowd for her grand opening.
I just hoped that it all went off without a hitch.
“Man, it’s really packed in here, isn’t it?” I asked Grace as we found a spot in back away from the temporary stage that had been set up in front.
“It’s pretty crowded. I can’t believe the fire marshal isn’t shutting us down.”
“No way that’s going to happen. He’s up front with his wife. If he was crazy enough to try to stop the talk, he’d be sleeping on the couch for the next ten years.”
The man’s wife was clutching a book fervently to her chest, and I could see that it was Brad Winslow’s latest novel. There were quite a few of them in the crowd as well,
but there were even more of Alexa Masters’s only book. I had a hunch that if Brad saw that from the stage, he was going to have a meltdown. Even Simon Gant and Bev Worthington were represented in the crowd, but in far fewer numbers. I saw at least two dozen folks that I recognized and quite a few more that I didn’t.
One of the ones I knew approached me, a cardboard box clutched to his chest as though it contained ingots of gold. “Isn’t this exciting?”
“Abner, I’m surprised to see you here,” I said. Abner Mason was a quirky fellow, and that was being kind. He was known for constantly jotting things down on napkins, old receipts, any scrap of paper he could find, and no one really knew why. Abner was a big man, a brute with heavy hands that were rough and calloused from his work on car engines.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Tonight is the night that changes my life forever!”
“How so?” The man was as animated as I’d ever seen him in my life.
“I’m getting one of these writers to endorse my book,” he said, stroking the box as though it were actually alive.
“I didn’t know you wrote a book, Abner,” I said, surprised yet again by one of my fellow townsfolk. It just proved yet again that there was more to most people than anyone ever realized.
“I know people around April Springs think I’m crazy with my constant note-taking, but I’ve been writing it all down for years to use in my book, and it’s finally finished.”
“Is it a book of sayings or something?” I asked.
“No. It’s a murder mystery,” he said. “One day I’m going to be more famous than everyone here tonight. Just you wait and see.”
“Well, good luck with that,” I said, trying to figure out some way to disengage from the man.
He did it for me though, turning and leaving me without another word.
Grace tapped me on the shoulder as I saw Abner worming his way toward the front. “What was that all about?”
“Evidently Abner wrote a book, and he’s going to try to get one of the writers here tonight to read it and endorse it,” I told her, shaking my head slightly.
“That’s not how that works,” Grace said.
“I know that, and you know it, too, but do you want to be the one who crushes his dreams?”
“No thanks; not me,” Grace said.
I continued to look around, and then I saw all three members of my book club sitting in the front row. I was happy to see that they’d all made it. I caught Jennifer’s attention, and she nudged Hazel and Elizabeth, who all waved at me happily the moment they realized I had arrived. I’d told them about the bookstore opening during our last meeting the month before, and they were each as good as their word, coming out in force to support Paige, and to meet the authors, as well, I was sure. There was no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth would try to get each email address for her massive correspondence list, since she liked to collect writers like some folks accumulated coins or stamps.
As I continued to scan the crowd, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Paige standing there with one of the men Emma and I had seen outside arguing earlier.
“Suzanne, this is John Rumsfield. He runs Starboard House Publishing.”
“Actually, I own it.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering my hand to him, which he reluctantly accepted, however briefly. It appeared that shaking hands wasn’t all that common a practice for him. I’d seen him out in front of the bookstore earlier in the day, but I wasn’t about to mention it, since he clearly hadn’t even noticed my presence.
“Have you ever thought about writing a book?” he asked me pointedly.
“Excuse me?”
“I showed him your donuts,” Paige explained. “He thought they were delightful.”
“Love the dagger, love the blood,” he said. “It would look great in print.”
“It would have to be the world’s shortest book though, wouldn’t it?” I asked him, doing my best not to smile. “I wouldn’t know where to begin writing a cookbook,” I admitted.
Grace piped in. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
John glanced at her, and then he looked back at me. “I’m not talking about doing a cookbook. I’m looking to replace one of my culinary cozy mystery series.”
I couldn’t contain my laughter at that. “Thanks for the offer, but I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“I can find someone to guide you. It’s not as hard as you might think,” he said, glancing at the empty stage.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Mysteries with recipes are hot right now,” he said. “No worries. Like I said, we’ll get someone to babysit you.”
The idea was insane by any reasonable definition of the word. I’d read more than my share of mysteries over the years, but I didn’t have a clue how one might go about actually writing one, and it was sheer hubris for anyone to suggest that I could. Was that what writers were to this man, interchangeable cogs in his publishing machine? “Thanks again, but I don’t think so.”
“Fine. Whatever. It was just a thought.” Once I dismissed the idea, he appeared to forget that I was even there. “When does this thing start?”
“Right now,” Paige said after taking a big gulp of air.
“Good luck,” I told her as I patted her shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Paige made her way to the front, and then she rapped a book on the table to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming tonight to the grand opening of The Last Page.”
There was a smattering of applause, and after it started to die down, she continued. “Our goal is not only to bring you the books you want to read but to provide, on occasion, the opportunity to meet the men and women who write them. Without further ado, I’d like to introduce tonight’s very special guests.” She nodded to Millie Winesap, who was standing by the back room that was serving as a green room for tonight’s special event.
“First, we have Simon Grant, author of Midnight Mayhem and many others. Simon has been published for over twenty years and has produced a string of fine novels we all know and love.” The older man we’d seen fighting earlier came out from the back of the store and waved to the polite smattering of applause from the crowd. He frowned for a moment as he glanced around, and I had to wonder if he’d been expecting a bit more of a fuss or perhaps a longer introduction. I’d been to a few events in the past where the person introducing the speaker went on longer than the keynote address lasted, but clearly Paige wasn’t of that ilk.
After Simon took his seat, Paige said, “Next, it is my distinct honor to introduce Bev Worthington, author of the Cooking By Moonlight cozy mystery series featuring amateur sleuth Fanny May June. The series now stands at twenty-nine books, with number thirty coming soon.” The applause was a little more enthusiastic this time. When she emerged from the back, Bev looked like everyone’s ideal grandmother, with a ready smile and a lap big enough for three small grandkids at the same time. She took her place at the table with a soft smile for Simon, and a few words were shared between them that I was too far away from the stage to catch.
“Next, we have Alexa Masters, author of The Last Death, which was just today named a New York Times and a USA Today national bestseller!” The applause this time was thunderous, and I glanced over to see a svelte and rather attractive woman in her early thirties make her way through the crowd. Her long dark hair shone as though there was a spotlight on her, and she seemed a little overwhelmed by the attention as she made her way to the stage. I’d been expecting a little resentment from the other authors already seated, but they both smiled at her warmly as she joined them.
“And finally, last but not least, New York Times bestselling author Brad Winslow, author of A Deadly Kiss, A Deadly Touch, and A Deadly Em
brace, to name but a few.”
The applause this time, though robust, didn’t match the greeting Alexa had just received, and that fact wasn’t lost on Brad Winslow. His smile was rather terse as he made his way to the front, and I noticed that each of the other authors had strained expressions on their faces as he joined them, even Alexa.
Paige took her seat in the middle of the table, and the panel began.
There were fireworks from the very first question, and at one point, I thought two of the panelists might come to blows when Brad suggested that Bev wrote cookbooks that had a little mystery in them instead of the other way around. Alexa had to put a hand on Bev’s shoulder to keep her from launching herself at the man, but Brad merely smiled at the older woman’s reaction. I noticed that Simon got a few shots in at Brad in Bev’s defense, and they finally shared a smile that made me wonder if the two older authors had gotten rather chummy on their tour.
The panel seemed to go downhill from there, and it was clear that soon enough, Paige had completely lost control of the event. Instead of stepping in to squash the authors when they started sniping at each other, she sat back and helplessly watched them increase their attacks until it seemed that they’d all lost sight of the crowd and why they were gathered there. Finally, the publisher, John Rumsfield, evidently had enough. Making his way to the front, it was obvious that he was going to shut the entire event down when Brad Winslow stood and did it for him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have some amazing news that I’ll be sharing tomorrow at a press conference at Books of Wonder and Intrigue in Charlotte during a solo personal appearance that has just been scheduled. Trust me when I tell you that it will impact the future of my career, and I urge you all to attend.”
With that, the author walked off the stage and out the front door without even a moment of hesitation. I’d glanced at John Rumsfield’s face when Brad had made his announcement, and he’d gone pale upon hearing the news. He didn’t go after his writer, though. Instead, he was frozen in his tracks by the announcement. Not so frozen was my new friend, the brand-new bookshop owner. I knew that Paige had scheduled a group signing after the panel, and she hurried after Brad Winslow, obviously trying to get him to come back in to sign books for his loyal fans.
