by Jessica Beck
We all watched out the window as he clearly refused her, and finally, she slapped his face over something he said to her! Brad shook his head, waved a hand in the air at her, and then he stormed off yet again. Paige looked embarrassed by the confrontation, but that was nothing to what she experienced when she realized that she’d had a rather large audience watch what had just happened. Doing her best to gather herself, Paige returned to the store, made her way to the dais, and then announced, “That ends our panel discussion. The authors will be available to sign their latest books, which we have on hand available for purchase. Don’t forget, they’ll sign two books you might already own for every new one you purchase here tonight. Thanks again for coming, and now let’s give our writers the hand they deserve.”
The applause was enthusiastic, and Paige nodded to Millie, who in turn signaled to a bevy of high schoolers carrying boxes of books by each author. She must have recruited some of her favorite students to help out tonight.
Grace pulled on my sleeve and asked with delight, “Can you believe that?”
“Which part, the feeding frenzy on stage or Paige’s argument with Brad Winslow?”
“Take your pick,” she said. Eyeing the line already forming up front, Grace asked me, “Are you buying a book?”
“I thought I would, but the lines are already getting kind of crazy. Even Simon has his own group of fans.”
It was true, though the older man’s line was quite a bit shorter than any of the others. Brad’s absence was conspicuous, but most of them must have migrated to Alexa’s queue, which was snaking through the store and out the back. Bev, whose line was quite a bit smaller than her younger counterpart, was making up for it by having long conversations with whoever happened to be standing in front of her. I noticed that the ladies from my book club had managed to grab spots near the front of Alexa’s line, and Elizabeth was taking a selfie with her as we watched.
“Why don’t we go get a bite to eat and come back when the lines have died down a little?” Grace suggested.
“That sounds like a plan to me,” I replied. I found Paige at the register in front. “We’ll be back in a bit. We’re ducking out to get a quick bite. Can we get you anything from the Boxcar?”
“I couldn’t eat anything if I had to,” she said. “Did you see what happened outside with Brad? Of course you did. Everyone did! I’m so humiliated.”
“Don’t be,” I replied. “After the performance Brad put on, nobody could blame you for what happened. I was surprised there wasn’t cheering involved when you slapped him. What exactly did he say to you to elicit such a strong reaction?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Paige said, her face converting into a plastic smile as a customer approached.
“I get it. If you don’t want anything from the Boxcar, at least have a donut,” I said with a grin.
“If I get a chance,” she said lamely, and then she turned to her customer.
Once we were outside, Grace asked me, “Is she all right?”
“Probably not, but give her a little time; she will be. I was a wreck when I opened Donut Hearts, and I didn’t even have to deal with anyone else’s ego but my own.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I was there, remember?” she asked with a smile.
“I do. Let’s go eat before everyone else mobs the place.”
“Sold,” Grace said as we walked the three dozen feet to the Boxcar Grill.
Chapter 4
“At least there’s not a crowd here,” Grace said as we walked into the diner to find it mostly empty.
“Not yet, anyway,” I answered as Trish approached us, her ever-present ponytail bobbing as she walked.
“I’m surprised to see you both. I figured you two would still be at the bookstore,” the diner’s owner told us.
“We were there, and we’re going back, but we wanted a bite to eat in between.” I looked around the mostly empty dining room. “Wow, that grand opening really took a bite out of your customer base, didn’t it?”
“Don’t kid yourself. As soon as things wrap up over there, I’m going to be flooded with customers. I’m glad Paige decided to open her bookstore. That building has been empty for too long.”
“Let’s just hope she can stay in business,” Grace said.
“Why would you say that? Did something happen I don’t know about?” Trish wanted to know, eager for news, since she’d been at her diner during the festivities.
“Why don’t you grab an extra sweet tea and join us?” I suggested. “We can bring you up to speed on what happened while we’re waiting for our food.”
“I don’t mind if I do,” she said. “What can I bring you two to eat?”
“I’ll have a burger and some fries to go with my sweet tea,” I said.
Grace grinned as she held up two fingers. “Make that two.”
“How about three? Would you mind if I joined you? I haven’t eaten yet myself, and I have a hunch if I don’t do it now, I’ll never get the chance,” Trish said with a smile as she headed back to the kitchen to place our orders.
“We’d love to have you join us,” I said, and Grace nodded in agreement.
Grace and I got settled in at a table near the front so Trish could watch the register, and five minutes later, the diner’s owner came to our table bearing food and drink. “Here you go, hot off the grill,” she said as she served us. “Now tell me what I’ve missed.”
Once we finished bringing Trish up to speed on what had happened, she whistled softly. “Why is it that I always seem to miss out on the fun?”
“It’s one of the perils of being married to your business,” I said. “Don’t you ever take any time off?”
“No, I’d miss it too much. I don’t know how you manage leaving the donut shop in Emma’s hands two days a week yourself.”
“I don’t know. Call me crazy, but I like spending time with my husband.” Grace had finally found someone in the police chief and I had Jake, but Trish seemed to have the worst luck when it came to the men in her life.
“Where is your hubby, by the way?” Trish asked. “I haven’t seen him around the past few days.”
“He’s in Raleigh helping out a friend,” I said.
When Trish realized that I wasn’t going to add anything more to the explanation, she asked, “I’m guessing he’s not helping him move, is he?”
“I couldn’t say,” I replied.
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Trish pushed.
“If I knew, I might tell you, but Jake says it’s all hush-hush, and I’m taking him at his word.”
“Hey Trish, are these new placemats?” Grace asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“The design is the same old one, but these particular mats have never been used before,” she said, taking the hint. “They’re nice, aren’t they?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about Jake. I just didn’t know what was going on with him.
As the three of us ate, we explored a variety of other topics, laughing and teasing each other just as we had for years.
When it was time to pay the bill, Trish refused to provide one as she said, “This one is on me, ladies. I can’t remember having so much fun.”
“Then you really should get out more,” I told her with a grin.
“Hey, I’m trying,” she replied, and then she spotted Grace sneaking into her wallet. “No tips, either, young lady. Am I making myself clear?”
Grace looked a little embarrassed about getting caught. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Trish said.
“Thanks, then.”
As we left, Trish added, “There’s just one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If something else happens over there tonight, come
here and tell me about it immediately.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, “but I have a feeling that the fireworks are all over.”
Boy, did I ever turn out to be wrong.
The lines had indeed petered out to more manageable sizes by the time we walked back into The Last Page.
I looked around quickly and saw that there was still no sign of Brad Winslow, although the other three authors were doing their best to appease those who were still waiting for signatures.
I grabbed one of Simon’s books, much to Grace’s surprise. “Really? You’re getting one of those?”
“I’m getting one of each of the three, but Simon doesn’t have a line.” Not only was it true, but the poor man kept glancing longingly at the women surrounding him. Alexa’s queue was still rather long, and the poor women in Bev’s line were being interrogated about what they loved best about her series before she’d sign a single book.
I slid the book in front of Simon, who looked a little surprised finding someone in front of him.
“I hope you enjoy this,” he said as he signed his name in swooping great letters. “Shall I personalize it for you?”
“No thanks. Just a signature is fine,” I said.
He pursed his lips for a moment before replying. “You’re not one of those collectors, are you?”
“No, I just never cared for personalized books. Do you get a lot of them?”
“You’d be surprised,” Simon said with obvious distaste. “They’re vultures, you know.”
I was surprised by the vitriol he showed toward someone who wanted to buy one of his books. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”
“You might not be aware of it, but there is a faction of folks that loves to get signatures from older authors. They stockpile the books until that inevitable day when the writer passes away, and then they flood the market with autographed books, hoping to cash in on a moment of sentimentality. I chose my words carefully when I called them vultures.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said as I took the book and headed back to get one of Alexa Masters’s pile. “Thank you for signing.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, trying to smile but having a difficult time doing it.
The poor man looked absolutely miserable, and what was worse, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to cheer him up.
There was one thing after all. “Have you tried the donuts yet?”
His face lit up for real for just a moment. “Paige is saving one for me. They look delightful. Are they as good as they look?”
“I sincerely hope so,” I said, suddenly feeling more goodwill toward the man than I had a moment earlier.
I grabbed a new book and got in Alexa Masters’s line. Despite being more popular, Alexa’s queue was moving quite briskly.
Grace was just ahead of me. “What was that all about?” she asked softly.
“I’m not quite sure,” I said.
“Writers,” she said with a smile, as though it explained the man’s odd behavior.
I decided to keep my comments to myself.
Grace got a quick signature from the rising star of literature, and then Alexa signed a copy for me as though she were on autopilot. The woman looked so disconnected from the event that I was worried about her. “Pardon me for asking, but are you okay?”
“What? I mean, pardon me?” She looked startled to get a personal question.
“I don’t mean to be so blunt, but you look a little rattled,” I said softly.
Alexa started to break down, just a little, before she reined it back in. “The truth of the matter is that it can all be a bit overwhelming. This time eighteen months ago, I submitted my manuscript to my publisher. Even in my wildest dreams, I wasn’t expecting any of this.”
“It must be like some kind of fantasy for you,” I said.
“I suppose. I never wanted to be famous, you see,” she explained. “I thought the book would come out, if I was lucky it might sell a few copies, and that would be that. I wasn’t prepared for how the people around me would react to my success.”
I actually felt bad for her. “Maybe it will get better.”
“I know I shouldn’t complain,” Alexa said, putting on a brave face, “but all I really want to do is go home, forget about this side of the business, and try to write another book.”
“It must be really difficult being so wildly popular,” Bev said a little testily from her place beside Alexa. She’d clearly been listening in on our conversation.
Alexa must have realized the way she’d sounded, because the real woman I’d just seen vanished into the façade she’d been presenting to the world earlier. As Alexa slid the book across the table, she said, “I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for giving me a try.”
I walked back to the stack of books and found Grace watching me. “How do you do it, Suzanne?”
“How do I do what?”
“While I was waiting in line, I saw five different people try to have a personal moment with her, and she brushed them all off. You say one word to her, and suddenly she’s telling you her life story.”
“I don’t know. People seem to like talking to me.”
“There’s more to it than that, and you know it,” Grace said.
“I care about their answers, I suppose. I actually listen to what they have to say,” I said. I’d been asked that question before, and I never knew how to answer it. Maybe I just had one of those faces.
Bev’s line was finally down to one, so Grace and I grabbed a book apiece and got in line. The older woman was just finishing up with the woman in front of her, and as she turned to leave, I could swear she looked relieved to get away.
Grace and I approached her together. Maybe it would shorten our time being held captive.
Bev Worthington looked delighted to see us, or so it seemed. “Ladies. There’s no reason to crowd. One at a time, please!”
“We just couldn’t decide who got to meet you first,” Grace said, covering nicely.
I knew she was being sarcastic, but evidently it was completely lost on Bev. “How delightful. You remind me of Fanny and her best friend, Giselle.”
“Who are they?” Grace asked without thinking.
Bev looked at her as though she’d just spouted high treason. “I take it you aren’t a fan.”
“No, but your books sound intriguing,” Grace said, doing her best to look interested in the cover in her hands.
“They really are. I’ve read a few myself, and they are really delightful,” I told Bev. It was true, to a certain extent, anyway. I’d read a pair of her books, and she told a good story, though I could see how some folks might think they were a little heavy on the recipes. Besides, the plots had been nearly identical. Offering recipes could be a trap. One of my favorite writers had loaded her first books with tons of recipes as well, but she’d decided to pare them down in later books, something I found much more pleasing to read. “I’m a fan of Fanny myself.”
“How very nice of you to say so,” she said with a smile, recovering her aplomb. “Let me tell you about their latest dilemma. Poor dear Fanny has really gotten herself into a fix this time. You see…”
Paige took that moment to interrupt, bless her soul, before we got the next book’s outline, which I had a suspicion would be oddly familiar, if the other two books I’d read were any indication. “I hate to break in, but we’ll be closing in five minutes, and we’d love it if you could all sign some stock for us.”
“Certainly,” Bev said. She gestured to the untouched stack of Brad Winslow books. “What are you going to do with those? It would serve him right if you sent them back.”
“I’m hoping he’ll come by and sign stock before he leaves town,” Paige said.
“Good luck with that. The
man is a beast, a true beast.”
Instead of replying, Paige turned to us. “Ladies, thanks again for coming. Millie will be glad to ring you up.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Suzanne, do you have a second?” Paige asked me as Grace and I started for the cash register.
“Of course.”
In a low voice, she said, “I just wanted to thank you for everything. Your donuts were delightful, and having you here eased my nerves more than I can say. I was pretty rattled earlier, and I don’t know what I would have done without your support.”
“I didn’t do anything. Really,” I said.
“You did more than you realize,” Paige said.
“Then I’m glad that I could help.”
Bev coughed loudly behind us. “About that stock,” she said.
“Coming,” Paige said, pasting on a brave face as she turned back to one of her attending authors.
Grace and I paid for our books and accepted the nifty little cloth bags that were being supplied free of charge announcing the store’s presence in April Springs, and we made our way home. It was late spring, but the weather still wasn’t sure how to react. It would be chilly one moment, and the next, it would feel as though summer was indeed just around the corner.
“That was fun,” Grace said as we walked along Springs Drive toward our homes. This time we’d chosen to take the road, since it had grown dark while we’d been inside the bookstore.
“And entertaining as well. I’m sorry Jake and Stephen missed it.”
