by Lynn Cahoon
About ten, she realized the writers hadn’t come back. Shutting down her laptop, she took it into the kitchen. Shauna had already cleaned up and shut everything down. She sat her computer on Shauna’s desk and checked the back door. It was locked. She hadn’t seen Uncle Pete or Shirley come in either, so they must be at Bernie’s with the writers. Bernie’s was the local watering hole where townies and college kids mixed on most nights.
Cat didn’t like drinking on nights before she had to write, and she wrote most days, so for the last couple of years, she’d been cutting back on her alcohol consumption. But with the writers for this session being couples, maybe there was the idea of date night pulled into the retreat. Either way, she felt this session was going to feel different from the last few. She couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing, but it definitely was a thing.
She turned the lights off in the kitchen, then mirrored the action with the lights in the hallway and foyer. The lights over the stairs stayed on constantly to keep guests from missing a stair on the way down for a midnight snack or bottle of water. Each guest had a key and she had her cell number on the door sign, just in case someone had left the house without their key cards. She glanced around the foyer, then made her way upstairs and settled into bed to read.
The next morning, she woke early and got downstairs to find Shauna setting up the dining room for brunch. “I don’t think your writers have much of a sweet tooth this session. A lot of the treat plates were untouched.”
“I think they were at Bernie’s last night.” Cat glanced at the cookie plate. “Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ve got everything set up for the early risers, but we may not have many of them.” She put a cover over the just-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls.
As if to prove her wrong, Brodie strode into the room. “Hey, I guess I’m the first one awake.”
“I guess so. Do you need some breakfast now, or will you wait for the group?” Shauna turned to face him.
“I’ll wait.” He smiled at Cat. “I’ve got some things to say anyway. But I’ll have one of those rolls. My mom used to make these on Christmas morning to hold us over until breakfast.”
“Most of my best memories surround food.” Shauna plated up a cinnamon roll. “The coffee’s fresh and there’s orange juice in the pitcher there.”
Cat followed her out and into the kitchen. “Brodie’s writing fantasy. That’s his big secret.”
“Well now, I would have only been more surprised if you’d said romance.” Shauna set the tray she’d brought back in from dropping off supplies back in its place on the counter. “He doesn’t look the part.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” Cat poured herself a cup of coffee. “We had a long chat last night since he came home to work while the others went out to play.”
“Did Seth catch Pete?” Shauna glanced at her watch, then poured a cup of coffee too and sat at the table.
“Not that I know of. I went to bed about ten and they hadn’t come home yet.” Cat didn’t want to think about Seth’s journal. “Today Professor Turner is talking at ten as normal. I’ve asked him to speak on writing the short story.”
“Instead of Hemingway? How on earth did you get him to agree with that?”
Cat shrugged. “He didn’t actually agree. I sent a message via e-mail. But I’ll check with him this morning when he gets here to explain it to him.”
“Sounds like a fun job. The man does love his Hemingway.” Shauna sipped her coffee. “Oh, by the way, do me a favor and pick up the phone this week.”
Typically, that was Shauna’s role since she could schedule someone a lot faster than Cat could even hope to open the software. Cat slipped into a chair by her friend. “Sure, but can I ask why?”
“I think you know.” Shauna leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table and hiding her face in her hands. “Seriously, I should know better than even to think things in my family could be normal. I was so hopeful that Jake had grown up finally. Did I tell you that when I was bartending in LA he came to stay with me for a week and stole my rent money?”
“You have to be kidding.” Now, Cat felt thankful that she didn’t have siblings.
“He showed up in town, spent one night, and when I woke the next day, he’d written me a note saying he needed to ‘borrow’ the money and I’d have it back in a week.” She rubbed her face. “He just didn’t say what week. I asked him about it when I was in New York, after he’d hit me up to be my money manager for Kevin’s inheritance. He sat there and lied, saying he’d sent me the money and I must have forgotten.”
“Harsh.”
Shauna nodded and sipped her coffee. “The guy’s a loser and now he knows where I’m living, it will take a while for him to get the message that I’m not supporting him in his wild schemes anymore.”
“Well, I’ll pick up the phone, but if I get him on the line, I’m going to speak my mind,” Cat warned her friend.
Shauna laughed and stood, taking ingredients out of the fridge to start a breakfast casserole. “I wouldn’t expect anything different.”
Cat finished her roll and refilled her coffee. She headed upstairs to work in her office for the next few hours. She’d sent a chapter to her agent last week and hoped to see a response before she got too far into this book. Especially if Alexa didn’t think she could sell it. Cat knew it wasn’t always about the quality of the writing or the story that made the difference in a possible sale. A lot of times it was about the market and what publishing houses were buying. If the idea didn’t ring for her agent, she’d put the story away and start something new. But she really, really wanted to write this story and a few more books afterward.
That’s why she loved working in series. The story was never totally complete, and the world she’d built stayed alive as long as she was writing in it. Details fell away, but she’d be walking in town or in a new part of Denver she’d never seen and think, this would be a great place for a character to live. Or work. Or have grown up. The stories were always with her.
She wondered if Seth and Uncle Pete had talked. Would Seth’s journal have insight into why Chance had disappeared in Germany, only to resurface back here, hiding in the woods under another name?
She read through her e-mails and deleted most of them. Then she checked the date on when she’d sent Alexa the chapter. Had it really only been four days? Stop watching the water boil in the pot. As she opened her Word document, a knock on her door brought her out of her musing.
Every time she’d tried to sit down and work, a distraction happened. At least it did when she let it. Expecting one of the writers, she closed the window on her computer before calling out, “Come in.”
“Don’t hate me for disturbing you.” Uncle Pete came into the room, a plate of cinnamon rolls in one hand and a carafe of coffee in the other. “I come bearing gifts.”
“I’ve already eaten one.” The smell of sugar and cinnamon and coffee filled the room. She stood and crossed the room, taking a pile of papers off the small coffee table and putting them on a side table. Then she grabbed her cup and refilled it from the carafe. “But I’ll run on the treadmill later.”
“Smart planning.” Uncle Pete handed her a napkin and held out the plate. “You pick.”
Cat didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the closest roll and took a bite before setting it on the napkin. “Shauna is a food goddess. That’s all I have to say.”
“You’re not alone in your assessment.” He nodded to the computer on the desk. “Did I interrupt your writing?”
“I was just getting started, so this is a good time.” She sipped her coffee. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to thank you for taking in Shirley this week. I know my absence will be less of an issue since she can do all that writing stuff.” He stared at her. “You two are a lot alike. You both live in your heads a lot.”
“Thanks, I think?” Cat set her cup down. “But you already thanked me for letting Shirley stay here. And besi
des, she is paying for her room. I’m sure Shauna gave her a deal on it, but she’s a paying guest, not just a drop-in, so no worries.”
“Well, there’s another favor I have to ask you.” He leaned back and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “I would ask Seth, but he’s a little out of sorts right now, trying to deal with Chance’s death.”
“Did he tell you about the body?”
Uncle Pete nodded. “I’m trying unofficial channels to see if I can get any confirmation of that, but officially? The army is standing by their statement that Chance McAllister died in Germany.”
“Okay, so how do they explain who is in your morgue?” Cat broke off a piece of the roll. She wasn’t hungry, but it was so good.
“They say the testing must have been wrong.” He sat the book on the table and tapped it. “I found this in the cabin. It’s filled with a lot of conspiracy stuff, but I wondered if you could see the man behind the words. Tell me what you think.”
“I’m not a profiler.” Cat stared at the book, part of her not wanting to touch it. The other part ached to know his story.
“You’re smart. You have good instincts about people. And I think your writing mind sees things differently. I’d ask Shirley, but then she’d fall down the rabbit hole and want to work the case with me. I’d like to keep her out of it if possible. This is supposed to be a vacation, not a consultation.” He focused on his cinnamon roll.
The room was quiet for a few minutes while they ate. Uncle Pete wiped his hands on his napkin and put the fork on the plate. He looked at the journal that Cat hadn’t touched. “Are you interested? I don’t ask you to be part of the investigation often. In fact, usually I’m trying to keep you out of these things. I need you this time.”
She sipped her coffee. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Uncle Pete rose. “Then I’ll let you get back to your writing. I’m walking Shirley to the library this morning. She’s got some research to do.”
“Ask Shauna for the extra library card we keep on hand. That way if she finds something she wants to check out, she can bring it back to the house.” Cat stood and followed him to the door. She touched his arm. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked down at her and smiled the way he always had, no matter if it was first day of school or just before the senior prom. He’d always been there for her.
“Thanks for letting me in on this investigation.” She hugged him.
He ran his hand down her hair and patted her back, just like he had so many times before. “I hope I don’t regret this.”
Chapter 9
Cat forced herself to write, to get her allotment of words done before she’d allow herself to get lost in the project Uncle Pete had given her. But the mere presence of the journal sitting on the coffee table kept distracting her from the task at hand, so by the time she was at her daily word count, it was time to go downstairs and talk to Professor Turner. She’d start reading Chance’s journal after lunch. She closed down her computer and as an afterthought, locked the journal in her desk, then locked the door to her office. Normally, it was open, but on retreat weeks, she made sure to lock it just in case a writer would try to wander in and claim her spot. She didn’t mind sharing the house, but her office was her sanctuary and off-limits.
She got downstairs just as Professor Turner was coming in the front door. She glanced at her watch. He was twenty minutes early. Just enough time for some treats in the dining room and for him to totally rearrange her living room. She hurried down the last few steps and crossed the foyer to greet him. “Professor Turner, I’m so glad to see you. It seems like we haven’t run into each other for ages. Come into the dining room and let’s get some coffee. Shauna made your favorite muffins for today.”
“Oh, my, well, isn’t that lovely.” He glanced in the direction of the living room. “Maybe I should set up first.”
She took his arm and led him to the dining room. “No need. I’ve got the chairs all arranged. All we have to do is get out the white board and move the lectern so you have somewhere to talk from. Or, you really should consider just sitting down and doing a fireside chat type of lecture. I’m sure you’d feel better not being on your feet so much.”
“Oh, I like standing and talking. It makes me feel like I’m in my classroom.” He chuckled. “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, can you, Catherine?”
You mean like getting you to call me Cat? “You are definitely not an old dog.” She nodded to a chair. “Now, you just sit there and I’ll get you your coffee. Do you want anything in it?”
“Black’s fine.” He set his briefcase on the chair next to him. “I got your message about the lecture last night and although I’d love to help . . .”
“Great! Tristin is so looking forward to it. He looked you up on the college’s website and your short story class is all he can talk about.” She rolled over his objection, setting down the cup of coffee and a plate with a muffin and two cookies on it. “I wasn’t sure if you liked chocolate chip or peanut butter, so I got you both.”
“You’re spoiling me, Catherine.” He took a bite of the muffin. “I guess I could shorten the Hemingway section just a tad. You know your guests are always welcome to come and chat with me during office hours. I’m not sure I’ve mentioned that before.”
Only every time you speak. Cat smiled. “I’ll be sure to send them your way when they have a question. Sometimes I just feel like I’m guessing on some questions. I mean, I only taught first years during the time I was at Covington. Well, and the journal students. That was always fun.”
“The journal work is very important to the status in the academic community of our English Department at Covington. You should never say ‘only.’ You were a valued member of the faculty when you taught with us. I’m surprised the dean hasn’t invited you back. At least on a temporary measure.”
Cat shrugged. The dean had offered her a creative writing class for next year’s schedule. She just hadn’t decided if she was going to take it. Teaching took up a lot of writing time and frankly, with the retreat going better than she’d imagined, she didn’t need to teach. But without a new contract, she needed to do something with her time. No use blurting all this out to Turner so he could pass her hesitancy back to the dean. “Maybe someday.”
“Professor Turner, I didn’t know you’d be here.” Brodie stood in the doorway between the dining room and the hallway. He stepped inside and held out a hand. “I took your short story class two years ago? Brodie Capone?”
“Yes, of course. You were writing those very literary shorts. I was very impressed.” Professor Turner shook his hand.
“I’m thinking about switching up to young adult fantasy for my genre.” Brodie grinned at Cat. “I’ve had some interesting discussions with the others in the group, and they all agreed I should write what I love.”
“Well, sometimes writing isn’t just about what you love, Brodie. It’s an art and you need to treat it with the respect it deserves. I wasn’t being polite when I said I loved your stories. You should try to send some to the literary journals to see if you can get published. It will do wonders for your career.” He picked up his cookies. “Sorry to hurry out, but I need to get set up for the seminar. I’ll see you inside.”
Brodie looked crestfallen. Cat put a hand on his arm. “Don’t listen to him. Journals are great for those of us who want to teach. But if you really want to write fantasy, no one should be able to stop you. Not even a well-liked professor.”
He nodded, then looked across the hall, where Professor Turner had just entered the living room. “To be honest, I didn’t really like his course.”
Cat grinned and grabbed a bottle of water. “I better get in there before he starts moving couches. See you in a few minutes?”
“Definitely. I’m bringing my computer so I can write while he talks. That way he thinks I’m paying attention.”
“A man with a plan. I like it.” Cat turned and followed Professor Turner into the
living room. She’d returned her own laptop there and after setting him up and letting him have time to go over his notes, she sat in the back of the room and checked her e-mail. Still nothing. An instant message came over her screen and she opened the bubble.
Want to do lunch at The Diner when you’re done with the seminar? Seth’s message asked.
She typed her response: Sure, but what about Shauna?
The answer came too quickly. She can cook her own lunch. I’ll tell her we’ll be out so she doesn’t overprepare.
Sounds good. Cat smiled as she typed the response. Kind of like playing hooky. She and Seth had escaped from classes a few times in high school and once when she’d been a freshman at Covington. He’d brought a picnic lunch and they’d gone to the park to sit and talk. It was the week before he’d been deployed. After he’d left, she’d gone to that park to sit and read a lot. Until they’d broken up.
As she sat, listening to Professor Turner wax poetically about Hemingway, she started planning her next month. She could have this new book finished and a proposal done. Then she’d send it to Alexa. And then she’d start on a new Tori book. If her publisher wanted it, that would get her ahead of the game. And if she sold the new book and got an extension on Tori, then she’d need the prep work to enable her to keep commitments for two series.
And if they didn’t want it? She took a deep breath. Well, she’d just cross that bridge when it happened. She finished up her planning, putting everything on her calendar. Weekly word count goals. Tentative deadlines. Retreat weeks. By the time Professor Turner asked for questions, she had planned out the rest of her year. And she’d even set aside time for date nights and girls’ time. She smiled at the finished product. The most exciting part of the plan was she didn’t have anything planned for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe she could talk to Seth today about scheduling a trip to somewhere warm and tropical. Rolling her shoulders, she closed the computer, happy with the work she got done.
“Professor Turner, thank you again for an excellent seminar.” She walked up to the lectern, where he was putting his note pages into his briefcase.
