by Diane Bator
Chapter 25
Katie
“Oh, crap.” A nervous smile froze on Katie’s lips when she walked through the front door of Hilda’s house just after five thirty. In spite of Hilda’s reminder, she’d forgotten all about the writing group meeting. Was it too late to make an excuse?
“Katie, darling.” Mimsy, long white hair swept back in a glittering red comb and a red silk scarf over her shoulders, beckoned her to the far corner of the room. “You’re right on time.”
Clustered in Hilda’s tiny living room, several people called out greetings and waved. Her gaze darted around the room, hoping to see at least see one friendly face. Instead, there were too many friendly faces, mostly customers. She shut her eyes and groaned. This was the last thing she needed.
Hilda rounded the corner from the kitchen and motioned for her to take a seat. “Perfect timing. I told you my writing group meets every Thursday. I’m hosting the festivities this week since we had a problem with our usual meeting place and had to change location, I thought it would be nice to bump up the time and have tea.”
A black-haired young man followed Hilda into the living room, carrying a tray of coffee cups and cookies. His dark brown eyes grew wide like Katie was someone he didn’t expect to see. Her presence seemed to agitate him and his gaze swept the room as if seeking a handy exit.
She sympathized, wanting to escape just as badly.
“I have something for you.” A familiar silver-haired lady handed a shiny red gift bag toward Katie. She flashed a denture-filled smile. “We do this for all our new members.”
“I’m not here to join, I…”
“Oh. Hilda said you were.” She frowned then her forehead creased. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
When the woman puckered her lips, Katie’s stomach clenched and she nearly ran out screaming. The lunatic from the bus depot in Newville. At least she’d changed her appearance enough the woman probably didn’t recognize her.
“Katie. I own the bookstore.”
“Oh. That’s right. Hilda said that. Honestly, my memory these days.” She sat down. “I love what you’ve done with the place. I’m Edie. Why don’t you have a seat?”
She held her hands up. “You guys have your meeting. I’m going to grab something to eat and get out of your way.”
“That’s silly.” A large woman ignored her protests. “Come and join us. You probably recognize all of us from the store anyway.”
A cleaned-up version of Mr. Humphrey occupied the seat in front of the television. He gave her a crooked grin and motioned to the bag. “You better open that, you might need it.”
Katie couldn’t recall seeing him smile since she’d first met him. It gave her goose bumps. At least today he wasn’t wearing the same jacket with all the creepy stains. She nodded and fumbled with the shiny ribbons that held the bag’s handles together while she planned an escape route.
For an instant, she caught the terrified gaze of the young man who carried in the tray for Hilda. He twitched his cheeks like a chipmunk, unsure if he should smile. Katie half expected him to dive through the window behind him. She’d probably fly out right behind him if he did.
“Come and sit, my dear.” Mimsy patted the empty chair between her and Mr. Humphrey.
The others shuffled their chairs aside so Katie could walk through the circle then shuffled back into place to trap her in their midst. All thoughts of escape popped like soap bubbles. There was nothing to do now but sit and endure what lay ahead.
Katie sat down, aware the others watched her expectantly. Was there was some secret handshake or password she should know?
“Open the bag.” Hilda came to her rescue. “I guess we kind of took you by surprise, didn’t we?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Funny thing about that.” A man in a baby blue cardigan clenched his teeth around an old unlit pipe. His dark hair was sprinkled with grey and his voice reminded her of a pompous actor. “Our regular meeting place flooded so Hilda offered us her living room. She said you planned to join us anyway. We even changed the time so you wouldn’t miss anything.”
Katie opened the shiny bag and fished out a black coil notebook, a pack of six black and blue pens, an egg timer and a box of Earl Grey tea. “This is nice. Thanks.”
“Those are our ideas of essentials for every writer.” Mimsy puffed out her chest. “I wanted to put in a bottle of wine rather than tea to celebrate the completion of your first novel. The others thought that sent the wrong impression.”
“Yeah, right, you probably drank the wine,” Mr. Humphrey snorted. “You want to tell her why you really need that walker?”
“Henry!” She sounded indignant.
He leaned close to Katie. His breath smelled of mint mouthwash. “Mimsy celebrates every damn page.”
Katie stared at him.
Mimsy gasped and opened her mouth to object but said nothing.
“Shall we begin before we scare our newest member off completely?” Hilda sat on her blue wing chair and took charge. “When we get a new member, we introduce ourselves then the leader presents a prompt for everyone to write on for ten minutes. After that, we go around the circle and read what we wrote.”
“Or not.” Mr. Humphrey folded his arms across his barrel chest.
Hilda sighed. “Or not. You don’t have to read to the group. Some of us find it makes us better writers. It helps to give a voice to our work and makes it easier to hear if it makes sense or not. Shall we begin or do you have anything else to add, Henry?”
“I’m good.” Mr. Humphrey settled back in his chair with his usual gruff expression firmly in place.
“I’ll go first.” Mimsy leaned forward. “I am Mimsy Lexington. I have four kids and six lovely grandchildren. I’ve written about thirty romance novels and over a hundred magazine and newspaper articles. Oh, and one spy novel I’m currently working on about a woman named Asa Grey and her two sons who—”
The woman next to her cleared her throat. She kept her gaze focused on Katie. “I started writing when I was a wee thing. I gave up when I had kids but started again when my husband left ten years ago. I’ve written seven novels, published three and write columns for several newspapers.”
“Wow.” Katie caught Mr. Humphrey’s grin, which faded as quickly as it appeared.
The large woman’s child-like voice didn’t suit her bulky frame. She fidgeted like a four year old. “I’ve written a couple of articles and tons of poems but can’t seem to write a whole book.”
Hilda smiled. “With all the poetry you have, you could fill this room with books.”
The large woman folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve written since I could hold a pencil. I’ve published four novels with another on the way. I write newspaper columns, newsletters and magazine articles.”
Penny smiled from her perch in the other blue wing chair. “I’m new too. Since I write for real estate newsletters, Hilda convinced me to give this a shot. These guys are way out of my league though.”
“You’ll be fine, dear. We’re all nervous. It’s probably too much coffee, but don’t tell anyone I ever said that.” Jo from the coffee shop patted Penny’s hand then gave a little finger wave and flashed an infectious smile.
Katie laughed. “Yeah, I think between Laura, Ray and I we keep you in business.”
“Probably not far off.” She laughed. “I’m new at the writing thing too. I used to make greeting cards and wrote stories for my kids. This sounded like fun.”
“Fun?” The man beside her guffawed. “Writing isn’t meant to be fun. It’s a serious craft pursued by people who should take it to heart or go home.”
Mimsy fanned herself with the end of her scarf. “Hush, you old fuddy-duddy.”
The look he shot her nearly froze the tea in the cup Hilda handed to Katie. She caught a glimpse of the indignation on his face. Would it be wise to speak up or run like a demon for the staircase? Instead, she held her tongue and remained in her seat.
> He tapped a finger to his unlit pipe and seemed to look down on Katie. “I have written several tomes on local history as well as researched such monuments as the Grand Canyon, Machu Picchu and Stonehenge.”
Katie’s eyes widened. “You’ve been to Machu Picchu?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Studied books on it extensively.”
“I’ll bet Stonehenge is amazing.”
His gaze darted around the room. “Yes, well…”
“The Grand Canyon?” she asked.
He gave a triumphant smile and saluted her with his pipe. “Been there several times. I know the place like the back of my hand.”
Mr. Humphrey coughed into his hand. “Phony.”
Next was the woman who gave her the gift bag and sat, ankles crossed and back straight. Much calmer than when she was the crazy lady in the bus station. Was she taking meds? “We haven’t met. I’m Edie Coombs. I’ve had a couple gardening books published. Before I moved into the home, I had lovely gardens. People came for miles around to walk through them and take pictures.”
The young man who helped Hilda with coffee sat between Edie and Mr. Humphrey, his skin the same shade as the paper he doodled on. He paused and stared at Hilda like a startled mouse.
“Who? Me? Already?” His voice belied his paranoia. Probably drug induced. He blinked, pupils dilated, and his hands shook. He wore a silver hoop earring in his eyebrow. “I don’t know what to say.”
“What do you write?” Mr. Humphrey asked.
His foot tapped the floor. “Science Fiction and Fantasy.”
“How many books have you written?”
“This week? Or in total?”
Katie’s jaw dropped as the others giggled. “What?”
“Humor him.” Mr. Humphrey bowed his head in exasperation. “Let’s go with in total.”
“Twelve.” His foot bounced. “Seven have been published so far. Lyon’s Reach, Sylvania’s Curse, Malacrome, Lord Stone and Execution Day on Beta Nine. The rest I still have to decipher.”
Katie blinked. “Pardon me?”
“I wrote them when I was stoned.” His face flushed. “Now I can’t read them.”
She didn’t dare laugh in case he jumped through the window and made his escape. If she had to suffer, so did he.
Mr. Humphrey gazed at his calloused fingers and cleared his throat. “My secret is about to come out, Katie. I’m Henry. I write outdoor survival and fishing books and am currently struggling with a piece of fiction.”
Katie chuckled. “Maybe you should write a book on how to trap cats.”
Mr. Humphrey—Henry—shot her a weary look as the entire room echoed with laughter.
When Hilda motioned Katie to take a turn, she froze. What was she supposed to tell them? She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and hoped nothing stupid came out. “I’m Katie Mullins. I’m more of a reader than a writer, which I guess is why I bought Ray Colter’s bookstore. One thing I can do is host book launch parties and give you more exposure.”
“Oh, no. Not me, lady.” The young man piped up. “I got arrested for that once.”
Katie’s eyes widened. “For what?”
“Exposure.”
Henry tapped his arm. “That was indecent exposure. A far cry from public exposure.”
“It was in public.”
The other man fingered his pipe. “You’d never know the boy’s a genius, would you?”
Hilda handed everyone a yellow sheet of paper then started her egg timer. “Get used to it, Katie. They’re always like this. Let’s do some writing before things get out of control.”
Katie read the first prompt. How was she supposed to write for ten minutes about a person looking out a window? She drew a little flower then wrote "This is crazy" seventeen times before something triggered her pen to move in another direction.
Ten minutes later, they helped themselves to coffee or tea before Hilda read aloud her piece about a young widow. Her words made Katie forget where she was until someone applauded.
Mimsy, who’d lost her husband several years earlier, dabbed at her violet eyes and broke the silence. “Wow. That brought back memories. When I killed off Baron von Santé, it was devastating.”
Katie raised both eyebrows.
Henry leaned to his left, circling a finger around his ear. “See what we have to put up with? She’s a loon.”
“A very wealthy loon,” the man with the pipe reminded him. “She makes a killing on that smut. No pun intended.”
Mimsy huffed.
“I’ll go next.” Another blue-haired woman—Dottie?—started to read before anyone objected.
Katie listened as the others took turns. She had no desire to read her writing aloud. When Henry read about his misadventure with the cat, she laughed so hard she needed a tissue.
“Wow.” The young man was animated for the first time. “Did that really happen?”
“Yes,” Henry and Katie said in unison then laughed.
Penny paled. “It’s bad enough I have to hear stuff like that at home from my husband.”
“Katie?” Hilda shrugged.
Butterflies fluttered in Katie’s stomach. “I’ll pass.”
“I’ll read,” the young man said around a mouthful of shortbread cookie. Crumbs cascaded down his chest and he wiggled in his chair. He swallowed the cookie and guzzled an entire cup of tea before he read.
“Kardal trod along the rock ledge and looked up at the phallic tower on the top of the cliff. He sensed the Witch of Theodoric inside. She practiced her spells and enchantments while she waited. Her blazing ruby eyes probably watched him like a flame-tongued dragon as he climbed the mountain. If she wasn’t at the oval window in the tower, she’d see him in her crystals.
“Either way, she already knew he was there. In time, she’d show her hideous face, and he could cut her down with his broadsword. What he came upon a few minutes later was not a hideous witch. It was a maiden with seashell lips and azure eyes. Her chest heaved with fear and her shirt was torn open to reveal one luscious melon he’d love to...”
Mimsy squeaked, clutching a hand to her bosom in shock. “Oh, good heavens!”
A streak of crimson lit his cheeks while the others chuckled. “What? You give me crap if I say anything else. What am I supposed to use?”
“A thesaurus,” she snapped.
Hilda smiled. “It’s much better than last week’s unfortunate piece.”
He pouted. “What was wrong with last week’s?”
There was a round of groaning from the rest of the group.
Katie leaned toward Henry. “What am I glad I missed?”
He grabbed the young man’s notebook and rifled through to a tattered page. “Read it to yourself so the rest of us don’t have to endure it again.”
The page contained the most descriptive, lewd, disgusting scene she’d ever read. She slapped the book into the young man’s hands. “You’re sick.”
He twisted his lips into a grin. “Sick sells. It’s all in the target audience. You should read some of the sh…crap I’ve published.”
“He’s right.” Henry winked. “Look at Mimsy.”
Mimsy pressed her lips together until the lower half of her face turned white.
The meeting ended at the stroke of seven on that note.
The young man raced off on his scooter to his job on the cleanup crew at an amusement park. Jo unlocked her minivan and opened the side door while Mimsy and one of the men bickered over which seats they wanted for the ride home. The others chattered and ignored them, waiting on the sidewalk for someone to step in and referee.
Lost in her thoughts, Katie helped Hilda clean up and make a pot of spaghetti.
When they’d finished dinner and cleared away the last of the dishes, her landlady confronted her. “Will you read me what you wrote?”
“Sure.” Katie’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not very good.”
Hilda sat in her wing chair and nibbled on a cookie. “We all
have to start somewhere.”
Katie’s stomach did somersaults. She sat in the other wing chair, cleared her throat and took a deep breath before she read:
The window was frosted
I could not see out
Someone I’d trusted
Now filled me with doubt
My heart beat loudly
As to give me away
My fear swallowed proudly
Today was the day
My bags stood by waiting
I knew where they were
My time started fading
I had to be sure
Assurance appeared
Black words on white
Then I disappeared
Gone into the night
She closed the notebook and bit her lower lip.
“I think it’s lovely.” Hilda clapped her hands. “Have you always been a poet?”
“Not really.”
“Pressure does strange things to people. Why didn’t you want to read it to the group?”
“Nerves.”
Hilda smiled, the wrinkles of her cheeks gathering like two accordion sleeves. “If you say so. You have to deal with Laura and Ray all day. You have tons of nerve. It’s very good.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks burned. “Do you want anything else?”
“No. I’m good, dear. Thank you. I think I’ll watch television for a while then call it a night.” She reached for the remote control and a burst of blue-white light filled the room.
“Sounds good.” Katie sat back when the television came on.
Her mind wandered and her body grew numb. Thoughts of Maddox and Danny bounced through her head, but she drifted off and dreamed of flying on an airplane with a witch with red eyes. The witch became Donovan Wild who headed straight for her.
She jolted awake, mumbled an excuse to Hilda then climbed the stairs to her room. Why would she dream about Donovan Wild? She found his business card again and tucked it in her purse. Tomorrow she’d check out the Wild Blue Detective Agency online.
Chapter 26
Danny
The day did not go as Danny planned. He wanted to spend more time with Katie and find out more about her. That ended when she locked him out of the backroom of the bookstore while she ate lunch. Something about him made her wary. Had she figured out he was Donovan Wild? Did she think she was safe from her past?
