by Maria Geraci
“You’ll be happy to know that Will and I finally had the talk.”
Her mouth hangs open for a second, then snaps back shut. “And?”
“And he said he felt the same way. Then he kissed me.”
She squeals, which draws the attention of a few of our seated customers, as well as Paco, who looks up at me from his place behind the counter. “Was it fabulous?”
“The kiss? I mean, sure, it was great.”
“Great?” She makes a face. “Girl, I want to hear that you saw fireworks and … oh, does this mean you liked Travis’s kiss better?”
Travis Fontaine, my fake boyfriend, kissed me a couple of weeks ago. He wants us to date for real but not until I sort out my feelings for Will.
“It’s not a case of better. They were just … different.” Even though I don’t have a lot of experience in this department, both kisses were pretty good. I thought that once I kissed Will, any feelings I had for Travis would disappear, but that isn’t the case, which means I’m still confused. “Right after Will kissed me, he lied to me.”
Sarah’s eyes widen. “What about?”
I wince. “Sorry, I can’t tell you. It’s complicated.”
“It’s probably better that I don’t know, but Lucy, what are you going to do about Travis and Will?”
“I have no idea.”
She mulls this over a few seconds. “I was thinking, I know how much you hate owing Will money. That sort of thing always mucks up a relationship, so if it makes things easier, I could cover the loan. That way you’d owe me and not Will.”
When Sarah and I bought The Bistro earlier this year, I was ten thousand dollars short on my half of the down payment to qualify for the bank loan, so Will lent it to me. I’ve been trying like crazy to pay him back, but between my culinary school student loans and Paco’s vet bill when he was poisoned by a crazy killer (that’s another story), I haven’t been able to come up with the dough. Will told me he was in no hurry to get paid back. At first, I was skeptical, because how much could he save as a small-town librarian? Now that I know he’s a world-famous author who goes around donating church roofs without blinking an eye, it makes sense. But Sarah is right. I want to pay him that money back ASAP because it doesn’t feel right between us until I do.
“That’s awful sweet of you, but it’s a lot of money. I already have the benefit of a free apartment.” The Bistro’s previous owners lived above the café in a two-bedroom, one-thousand-square-foot apartment that they renovated shortly before selling to us. Since Sarah’s husband, Luke, already had a house on the beach, they had no interest in moving here, so it only made sense that I’d be the one to get the apartment.
“And I have a husband who makes a lot of money,” says Sarah. “Besides, I saved up more for this place than what I ended up using, so it’s not a problem. Just say the word.”
This is tempting. And yeah, owing Sarah is better than owing Will, especially since she and I are already business partners. Ideally, though, I wouldn’t owe anyone money. Except the bank. We’ll be paying the mortgage on this place until we’re gray.
“I don’t know how long it might take me to pay you back in full.”
“No worries,” she says. “I actually have a few ideas about that.”
Before I can ask her what those ideas might be, the door to The Bistro opens, and Betty Jean Collins walks in, followed by Brittany Kelly. Brittany is the PR person for the chamber of commerce and my former nemesis. We went to high school together, but we were never friends until recently. Sometimes she can be a royal pain in my gluteus maximus, but she has some great qualities. She’s feisty and loyal, and if you’re ever being held hostage by a madman, you can totally count on her. The only problem is she’s got a crush on Will. In her defense, she has no idea how I feel about him, which complicates things to no end.
“Well, hello, Lucy.” Betty Jean saunters to the counter with the most self-satisfied smile I’ve ever seen, which is saying a lot because she generally walks around town like she owns the place.
Betty Jean is eighty, but she’s not the kind of eighty-year-old who shows you pictures of her grandchildren and offers to make you chicken noodle soup when you get sick. She’s originally from Boston and has been married and divorced four times. There are three things Betty Jean loves most in the world: the Red Sox. Prepping for any kind of natural disaster. And younger men. She’s a prominent member of the Gray Flamingos, a local senior citizens activist group, and if she feels like she’s been slighted in any way, no one at the AARP is getting any rest until the issue has been resolved.
“Aren’t you excited about my book club meeting tomorrow night?” she asks. “I told you I’d get J.W. Quicksilver.”
I wonder just how smug Betty Jean would be if she knew that whoever she has coming to her book club meeting is nothing but a big fat impostor. I should warn her, but I can’t do that without exposing Will.
“Well—”
“Oh, c’mon, Lucy. Say it. You didn’t think I could get him here, did you?” she crows, only there’s something off about her expression. It’s like that smirk has been frozen on her face.
“Betty Jean, did you get Botox?”
She lifts her chin in the air and turns her face from side to side. “I look twenty years younger, don’t I?”
“Well … sure. Whatever you say. Um, so I take it you’ve met this J.W. in person?”
“Not yet,” admits Betty Jean. “But I’ve spoken to him over the phone.” She exchanges a sly look with Brittany.
“I’ve spoken to him too.” Brittany giggles like she and Betty Jean share a secret joke. How irritating.
“And?” I ask impatiently.
“Tonight, all will be revealed,” Betty Jean says mysteriously.
“What will be revealed?”
“The reason why J.W. Quicksilver is such a recluse. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
“Are you sure I can’t torture it out of you?” I ask, only half-joking.
“My lips are sealed. Let me just say that you won’t be disappointed.”
Her lips aren’t exactly sealed, but the Botox is making them—wait. “Why will all be revealed tonight? I thought the book club meeting was tomorrow.”
“Oh, it is,” says Brittany, “but that’s what we came to tell you. I’ve arranged for J.W. to do a reading and a private signing tonight.”
Private signing? “I don’t understand. When did all this happen?”
“After J.W. got in touch with Betty Jean, she gave me his information and I was able to put together this fabulous event at Daddy’s restaurant. It sold out in less than an hour, but that was to be expected since J.W. is a literary genius.”
“I thought you didn’t like his books.” Just the other night at my parents’ house, Brittany was dogging on the latest J.W Quicksilver novel. I think she was doing it to score points with Will, who openly disdains anything the man writes. If only Brittany knew the truth.
She flushes. “Did I say that? You must have heard wrong because I love his books! He’ll be doing a reading, and there will be hors d’oeuvres and champagne. It’s like nothing Whispering Bay has ever seen before. It’s a huge PR coup for me … I mean, for the town. Once word spreads that J.W. Quicksilver has come to Whispering Bay, then I expect other big-name authors to follow.”
“I’ve already extended an invitation to Lee Child,” says Betty Jean. “Hopefully, I’ll hear from him soon.”
“I just hope Lee Child gives us more advance notice than J.W. Quicksilver,” says Brittany. “Do you know how hard it is to plan an event like the one at Daddy’s restaurant in less than twenty-four hours? Good thing I have all those years of experience putting together sorority mixers.”
“Lee Child?” I sputter. “As in the Lee Child who writes the Jack Reacher books?”
Betty Jean looks amused. “If I can get J.W. Quicksilver, why can’t I get Lee Child?”
I take a deep breath and try to reason with her. “Betty J
ean, have you asked yourself why a highly popular reclusive author that no one has ever seen before is going to come out to the world here in Whispering Bay, Florida? Why isn’t he making his first public appearance on Good Morning America or on Oprah?”
“Honestly, Lucy, my book club has much more clout than you’re giving it credit for. Do you know that I’ve had to turn down a dozen people wanting to join just in the past few days? Besides, Oprah only picks books that no one reads on their own. J.W. doesn’t need her endorsement.”
“Plus, I’m pretty sure Oprah doesn’t have a show anymore,” adds Brittany.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I was just using that as an example.”
“Let’s not argue about how all this happened,” says Brittany. “The important thing is that J.W.’s visit will make Whispering Bay the new literary capital of the Southeast.” She reaches out and gives Betty Jean a hug. “And we owe it all to Betty Jean and her persistence!”
The only explanation I can come up with is that the Botox has seeped into Betty Jean’s brain and spilled over into Brittany’s as well.
Brittany looks at me and frowns. “What’s wrong, Lucy? You don’t look happy. Just think of what all this could potentially mean for The Bistro. All that tourist money! I’m thinking of setting up a book festival next spring. What do you think? Or maybe we should do it in the winter, when all the snowbirds are here.”
This is going too far. I don’t want to give Will away, but I can’t let the entire town make fools of themselves. “Look, there’s something important I need to tell you—”
“Is this pouty face because you think you’re going to miss out on tonight’s big event?” asks Brittany. “No way was I going to let that happen to my best friend! I was going to set aside a ticket for you, but Travis took care of it.”
I still. “What does Travis Fontaine have to do with this?”
“He’s your boyfriend, silly. Who else would you go with? I stopped by the police station to arrange security for tonight, and when he found out about the event, he immediately bought two tickets.” She blinks. “Shoot. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Maybe he wants it to be a surprise.”
Betty Jean checks her watch. “Considering it starts in four hours, he’d better unsurprise her fast.”
“What are you going to wear?” asks Brittany.
“Since I just found out about this, I have no idea.”
“It’s not fancy, but it is cocktail attire, so don’t wear your sneakers. Or any of those T-shirts with those goofy sayings.”
I glance down at my shirt, which says MUCH ADO ABOUT MUFFIN. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”
“Nothing, if you’re trying to get a date with the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but you’ve managed to snag Whispering Bay’s newest eligible bachelor. You need to wear something sexy.”
Betty Jean manages to break through the Botox to snort. “Lucy? Sexy? Let’s not ask for miracles.” She gives me a thorough look-over. “How she managed to get that hottie Travis Fontaine interested in her is beyond me.”
“I’ll tell you how Lucy snagged Travis,” says Brittany. “Not only is she pretty and smart and makes the best muffins in the world, she’s wonderfully witty. That’s how.”
Wow. “Gosh, Brittany, I’m really touched.”
“Wear a dress. Better yet, text me a picture of what you plan to wear so I can approve it.”
Right. “So, by any chance, do you know if Will got a ticket?” I ask.
Brittany beams. “As a matter of fact, I just asked him to go with me, and he said yes.”
Oh, he did, did he?
Betty Jean taps her watch. “That’s enough chitchat. We need to go make sure everything is set up perfectly for tonight. Oh, and Lucy, don’t forget you’re making the muffins for the book club meeting tomorrow night.”
Rats. I’d forgotten about that. The situation is getting stickier by the minute. First, there’s this reading tonight, then the book club meeting. Will absolutely has to tell everyone the truth. But until he does, I need to play along. “Sure, I’ll bring muffins. What kind do you want?”
“Your best, naturally. And don’t try to pawn off any of your leftovers either. They have to be fresh. We can’t have a world-renowned celebrity like J.W. Quicksilver eating day-old muffins.”
I slap my hand over my forehead like I’m about to faint. “Goodness, no. We couldn’t allow a day-old muffin to pass through J.W.’s sacred lips. The entire literary world might collapse.”
Betty Jean tries to narrow her eyes at me (at least I think that’s what she’s doing). “If it’s too much of an imposition to provide the muffins, just let me know. Heidi offered me freshly made donuts. Lots of them. I can call her if—”
“I’ll make the muffins.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. Have them at the house no later than six. And wear your work apron.”
“I thought the book club meeting started at seven.” Wait. Why would she want me to wear my apron, unless … “Betty Jean, are you expecting me to act as a server during your meeting?”
She sniffs. “You did miss the last meeting you were invited to. Consider yourself a probationary member of the club. You can serve during this meeting, and if you don’t mess anything up, you can come to the next meeting as a regular member.”
Of all the … I can practically feel the steam coming out of my ears. “I missed the last meeting because I found a dead body in the park. Remember?”
“So you say. Really, Lucy, if you don’t want to do it, just say the word and I’ll call Heidi.”
Unbelievable. I wish I could tell Betty Jean where she could stuff my muffins, but instead I force a smile. “Fresh-baked muffins at six. Me and my apron will be there.”
“I’m glad that’s settled.” She snaps her fingers at Brittany. “Let’s go.”
“Bye, Lucy!” Brittany yells on her way out. “Don’t forget, text me a picture of your outfit!”
I turn to Sarah. “Did you know about this big shindig at The Harbor House tonight?”
Sarah nods. “The customers have been talking about it. Apparently, it’s easier to get Hamilton tickets on Broadway than it is to this reading tonight.”
I bite my tongue. I wish I could tell Sarah how this big event is nothing but a ruse. I can’t put this off any longer. Will has got to set this whole thing straight. I pull off my apron. “I know I ducked out earlier, but I really have to talk to someone, and it can’t wait.”
“Will?” she asks with a knowing smile. “We’re about to close anyway. I’ll do final cleanup.”
I hug her. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Are you really going to text Brittany a picture of your outfit for her approval?” Sarah asks.
“If I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it.” It occurs to me that maybe I can have a little fun with this. Brittany wants sexy? I’ll give her sexy. “I think I have just the outfit.”
3
The Whispering Bay Public Library is located next to the police station and the municipal building adjacent to the crystal-clear blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. It’s early December, and the weather in north Florida is heavenly. Blue skies, low humidity, sixty-eight degrees. Only I can’t appreciate how beautiful it is because all I can think about is what a big mess Will has gotten himself and the rest of the town into.
Since Paco is staying in the car, I leave the windows rolled down. “No barking, understand? Unless you see a squirrel. Then you have my full permission to go crazy.” Paco pants like he agrees. I suffer from sciurophobia, so anything to take the little demons down a peg or two is fine in my book.
I go to the front desk and ask Faith, one of the librarians, if Will is in his office.
“He went home early. Lucky dog. He got a ticket to tonight’s big event at The Harbor House to see J. W. Quicksilver. Ironic, huh? Will doesn’t like any of his books, and I’d give anything to hear the man talk. And to see him.” She leans across the counter and lowers her voice.
“I wonder if he’s as sexy in real life as his books.”
Ironic is the word of the day, all right. I wonder how Faith would react if I told her that she sees J.W. Quicksilver every day at work.
It hits me then just how much Will’s life is going to change after everyone discovers who he really is. Is he going to keep his job at the library? Sure, as a city employee he has good benefits, but that hardly outweighs the advantages of being able to write full-time. I imagine he’ll probably quit his job. What if he leaves town? Will’s parents are divorced. His mom lives in Miami, and his dad is up in Chicago. He could decide to move closer to one of them. Or he could move to New York and live in a loft overlooking Central Park while he drinks lattes and writes all day. He could do anything he wants. There’s nothing keeping him here in boring old Whispering Bay.
I try to imagine what my life would be like if Will moved away. No more Friday nights sitting on the couch eating Tiny’s pizza and watching America’s Most Vicious Criminals while arguing over who did it or if the police are going after the wrong suspect. No more laughing over the table at my parents’ house during Sunday night dinners. No more listening to him rant about how all everyone wants now is the instant gratification of watching the movie over reading the book.
A world without Will feels … empty.
I say goodbye to Faith and head back outside to my car, where Paco has been waiting patiently. We drive to Will’s, but before I can knock, he opens the door. “I saw you pull up.” He looks down at Paco. “Hey, boy.”
Normally, Paco is all over Will, begging for every little scrap of attention he can get, but not today. He trots right by Will like he’s never seen him before.
Will looks hurt. “What’s up with the pooch?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s pretty good at reading people. Maybe he doesn’t trust you anymore.”
“Lucy—”
“I hear you’re going to see J.W. Quicksilver at The Harbor House tonight. Funny. I didn’t think you liked his books.” I sit down on the couch, calmly cross my arms over my chest, waiting.
