by Laudat, Reon
After two years, the condo was still filled with most of Uncle Alex’s things, as if he were just away on an extended retreat. When Kendra mentioned moving some of the things out so she’d have more room, Aunt Jackie would change the subject.
Sometimes when Kendra would stop by unexpectedly and use her key to get in, she’d find the condo cave dark, even on sunny days. Her aunt would sit in Uncle Alex’s “man cave” with the curtains drawn, the blinds closed, and the lamps off. No book, no TV, no music, no knitting, just the full-color program from Uncle Alex’s funeral clutched in hand. What initially appeared to be a printing glitch on the smiling photo of Uncle Alex was actually lipstick, her aunt’s signature color. How Kendra’s heart would ache for her. She didn’t always know what to say or do to help. Her aunt insisted on bare knuckling her depression without drugs or therapy.
“I made it safely,” Kendra said after her aunt answered her call. “And it’s beautiful here! I wish you’d agreed to join me. You’d love it.”
“Maybe next time, sweetie.”
“So what did you do today?” she asked, caressing and sniffing the string of blooms around her neck.
“Donalisa came over earlier. She lives nearby so I gave her after-hours lessons on lace knitting.”
Great! With Kendra away, Aunt Jackie wasn’t spending all of her evenings alone, sitting in Uncle Alex’s chair. Before he died, Aunt Jackie had collected friends the way she’d collected yarn and pattern books. And she had a knack for making them all feel like favorites. But she’d cut ties with her usual group. Even the most persistent ones could not get through to her. Like some nineteenth-century English woman in widow’s weeds, she’d hidden behind head-to-toe black every day. Friends and neighbors had mentioned street encounters with Aunt Jackie when she’d refused to return their smiles and waves. The large dark sunglasses she’d taken to wearing were like a mourner’s version of those eighteen-wheeler warning signs: If you can’t see my eyes, I can’t see you.
“I really like Mrs. Findley, with her apple cheeks, infectious laugh, and seemingly endless supply of glittery statement necklaces,” Kendra said of the older lady, who had also lost her husband two years ago. She’d found comfort within The Sassy Sheep and its knitting groups.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear the same one twice,” Aunt Jackie agreed with a light chuckle.
“Her hearty, spontaneous laugh, makes me laugh.”
“Same here.”
“She seems like such a nice lady.”
“Yes, she is.”
Kendra took a beat, having exhausted all she could say about Mrs. Findley for now. “Have you heard from Vanessa lately?” she eased in, as if asking about the weather back home.
“Yes, I did. Today actually. She phoned.”
“How is she?” Kendra asked, keeping her tone neutral, fending off the prick of resentment because she’d only received postcards from Vanessa. Never mind that Kendra had yet to respond to the three text messages Vanessa had sent the week before, in which she’d griped about her long wait in “some ramshackle” small town airport while her new husband’s private plane was getting prepped for takeoff. Cry me a river, Kendra had thought at the time as she’d imagined Vanessa flicking her gel-manicured talons in impatience.
“Same as always,” Aunt Jackie replied.
“On a love high with the new husband, no doubt.” Kendra had read all about him on The Blag. Fourth husband, Ashton P. Northcross, was a much older dandy of a dude, who reminded her of Thurston Howell III from those old Gilligan’s Island reruns. “He sounds like a pleasant fellow, and he’s obviously loaded, providing her with the jet-set life to which she’s always wanted to become accustomed. Good for her. I want her to be happy.” I think, went unsaid.
“Yes, maybe this one will actually stick this time,” Aunt Jackie said. “So, think you might have a chance to scout out a yarn shop while you’re there?”
“Well, er,” Kendra sputtered. Aunt Jackie had changed the subject much too quickly. She wanted to know more about Vanessa’s call. It was a ridiculous notion, but Kendra avoided openly expressing her intense interest in Vanessa for fear of making Aunt Jackie feel slighted.
“Sweetie, you still there?”
“Yes! If there is a yarn shop here, I’ll find it.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Well, I’m not going to hold you. I know it’s late there.”
“Yes, I have to get to bed. A repairman is coming over to check the water heater first thing tomorrow morning.”
“What guy?” Kendra dropped the blooms curling around her fingers. Fixes around the home and The Sassy Sheep and hiring reputable help for them had always been Uncle Alex’s job. Her inexperienced aunt was a little too trusting of repairmen.
“Don’t worry, he’s the son of a customer I know well.”
“But—”
“And he’s licensed, bonded, and highly rated, according to that popular consumers’ database you love so much. I did due diligence this time around. Now promise me you won’t spend your trip worrying about me and phoning every day like you did when you were at the Dallas conference. I’ll be fine, you hear?”
Kendra would make no such promise.
“I mean it, Kendra. Now promise me.”
Kendra sighed. “Okay, I promise not to phone every day.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t text or email several times a day.
“I love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, too, Auntie.” After ending the call, Kendra reached for her laptop and surfed over to the Just Vanessa site and lingered for an hour before turning off the lights.
***
Kendra awakened to a stunning sunrise the following day. At the Hawaii Authors Conference, an “early bird” welcome breakfast started at 7 a.m. Good. She would pack a lot into the first day.
She entered the spacious sun-splashed ballroom filled with writers, editors, agents, and other publishing professionals. A full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the beachfront view. The sunny skies, golden sand, and sparkling aquamarine water beckoned. Organizers had scheduled the daily workshops and panel discussions to close with plenty of daylight left for sightseeing and other outdoor fun. Counting down the minutes until playtime, she scanned the room, determined to find a spot as close to the view as possible. Unlike other conferences, business or business casual dress did not rule here. The men had donned their Hawaiian shirts with bold floral prints. Kendra, along with most of the women, wore a sundress bright with tropical flowers. Colorful hibiscus or plumeria blooms replaced the usual jewelry and hair accessories. This day she wore a chili red streak in her hair to match the flower tucked behind one ear. Flip-flops, sandals, and espadrilles outnumbered sensible pumps and loafers as the footwear of choice.
Four agents and two editors sat at a table to her left. Kendra had pitched and sold several manuscripts to Beth Hartman, an editor at Glenallen & Fowler. The other, Zoe Fitzsimmons, of Broadnax-Royal, she knew only by sight and reputation. She hoped to change that during the conference and invite her to lunch. She had two manuscripts that would be perfect for Zoe’s list. After the group invited Kendra to join them, she sat, and made herself comfortable with her official conference tote at her feet. A server came over and filled a cup with steaming coffee before taking her order for a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, cinnamon toast, and a double serving of bacon. And how could she pass up such local specialties as apple banana and strawberry papaya? Could anyone love their job as much as she loved hers at that moment? Heaven!
“So, what about the latest on Penelope Wirthington?” asked Piper Hodges, the agent sitting three seats to Kendra’s right.
Wrong table. Kendra frowned.
“As in is she worth that obscene advance revealed in Publishing Grapevine?” asked agent Sheila Crowder, who had made a name for herself by signing the author who penned the Droidz in the Hood series that fueled the popping street-lit-sci-fi-mash-up trend.
Kendra believed shop t
alk was a valuable part of the conference experience. But first thing in the flipping morning, y’all? Before she’d finished her coffee or filled her growling belly? Focusing would prove difficult, but she’d try to keep up and not get lost in the beachfront view or the piles of food on the plate the server had placed before her. Yes! She rotated her plate left, said a quick grace in her head, and dug in as the discussion about Penelope, who was one of Dominic’s clients, bubbled up around her.
Penelope’s debut, The Splendid Transgressions of Alton Whitesborough, sold in a strategic one-book deal, had been a runaway hit five years ago. It had also finaled for an American Book Medallion and Rowan-Reece Prize for fiction, two of the highest honors for a novel. A pair of Academy Award winners would star in the upcoming film adaptation. Penelope’s untitled, but eagerly anticipated sophomore manuscript had spurred an enthusiastic bidding war.
“He’s an arrogant, money-grubbing snake,” Piper squawked about Dominic instead of the publishing house that had dropped the loot.
A few others chimed in.
An old proverb rushed to Kendra’s mind: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Dominic wasn’t her enemy. He could be as annoying as hell when he talked business, but she did not dislike him. In fact, she liked him. Too much. Hot rival was a more fitting way to categorize him. But she couldn’t help wanting Mr. Braggy Pants— with the implausibly high retention rate—to experience what it felt like to lose a valued client. Correction. Not just lose, but lose one to Kendra Porter. Lose someone like Brody Goodwin to Kendra Porter. She could just see the notice in Publishing Grapevine. Ha! Nevertheless, it was unwise to get drawn into Piper’s discussion. Ripping Dominic a new one in front of a bunch of colleagues was unprofessional and petty. While she’d shared her pet peeves with Dominic that day over lunch, she usually saved all business-related petty rants for confidantes such as Brittany and other close friends in the business.
Piper and two other agents at the table hardly stopped to take a breath as they gossiped about Dominic’s latest coup.
If truth be told, Kendra flip-flopped on how she felt about the super-sized, headline-making advances for brand-spanking-new authors. Some days she thought the practice was ludicrous, especially in the current publishing climate. Other times, well, she wasn’t so sure it was always such a bad thing. It depended on the circumstances and the book, she supposed. Penelope’s critically acclaimed debut had scored noteworthy sales. Her second project had been sold as a completed manuscript—not just a synopsis with sample chapters.
After a thorough examination of the contract and finding no potential trapdoors, Kendra would also advise her client to accept such a deal with life-changing cash attached. But she held her tongue.
“And for those who disagree,” Piper went on, “have you forgotten about Dominic’s uncanny knack for spreading auction fever. Not to mention his double-speak and cutthroat tendencies. He’s greedy, all about the ridiculous advance. And what is up with his wardrobe? Who does he think he is?”
“Rainbow Brite?” Sheila zinged.
“What’s wrong with his clothes?” said Zoe. “I think he’s sexy, cool, and edgy. He can pull it off. He’s handsome. And has swagger with it.”
Kendra blinked at Zoe’s bold confession and protectiveness of Dominic. Chomping on bacon, she glanced at Zoe’s bare ring finger and sized her up. Her sun-kissed skin highlighted huge blue eyes in a way that would garner appreciative double takes. And she had a fabulous figure. Had Dominic noticed? Zoe clearly had it bad for him. Perhaps she would make a suitable distraction and Dominic would give up his pursuit of Kendra. Sounded good in theory, but she felt some ambivalence about it. When Piper referred to Dominic as “the douche” for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes, Kendra’s reticence to join the debate faded.
“C’mon now, Piper, how often does ‘auction fever’ actually happen these days? And those outrageously high advances don’t come around nearly as often now that the industry is in flux. It’s the wild, wild west, if you will. Markets tightening, houses consolidating, staffs shrinking, not to mention the popularity of ebooks and self-publishing.”
“Ebooks have been lucrative for houses,” Zoe added.
“No need for Piper to stoop to name-calling, that’s all,” Kendra said, though a time or two, she’d come close to calling Piper Sandpiper because of her twittery avian-like manner. “Dominic’s competitive, but that’s not always a bad thing. Aren’t we all, when it comes to business, especially these days. We have to be.”
“I know as well as anyone how rapidly and drastically the business is changing so spare me your lecture and condescension.” Piper narrowed her beady eyes.
Kendra held up her hands in surrender. Now that she had the opportunity to luxuriate in the land of the aloha spirit, she would try to think and express only positive feelings toward others, including Piper.
“Wow, this bacon is primo!” Kendra told Piper, who had a mountain of fruit before her. “You should try it!”
“I’m pescatarian,” Piper sniffed, looking down her beak at all the pork on Kendra’s plate.
“What does being Presbyterian have to do with bacon?” Sheila asked.
“I said pescatarian.” Piper seemed to relish rolling the word off her tongue and telling everyone how she abstained from eating meat, with the exception of fish. Maybe Piper was like Ogden, Kendra’s pompous next door neighbor, who’d made a point of mentioning he was “strict pescatarian” during every conversation because he believed it sounded more “urbane than the garden variety–pun intended–vegetarian.”
Kendra ate the rest of her bacon with gusto and complimented Piper on the floral broach pinning her conference ID badge to her dress. After clearing her plate, she ordered more apple banana. She blocked out the chatter surrounding her to consider that thing between her and Dominic.
Now that Kendra had potential big business with Brody Goodwin, it was probably best to utilize a three-pronged strategy to make sure she didn’t succumb to that thing, which would only complicate matters: 1) Be friendly, but keep contact with Dominic to a minimum. 2) Talk up Zoe. 3) If he insisted on pursuing Kendra, she’d use the fake it-until-you-make-it approach with smiles and chitchat, and then quickly execute her escape.
“Hello, everyone!” Dominic boomed with a big smile when he appeared at their table.
Piper offered a tepid greeting.
Sheila, who’d joined Piper in the verbal flaying of Dominic, gathered her things and skulked away, vacating the chair to Kendra’s immediate right.
Kendra offered Dominic a cheery greeting. Zoe did the same, but with a flirty toss of her hair and straighter posture that hitched her bosom for closer inspection.
Like Zoe, Kendra was also struck by Dominic’s sheer awesomeness. Chili red chinos (that matched her streak and the bloom in her hair) and a tapered grape shirt flattered his sleekly muscular frame. The Maui sun had already deepened his natural bronzed skin, which highlighted those amazing eyes of his. He wore chunky man sandals ugly enough to look très hip. And he scored bonus points for some fine-looking toes. No creepy toes as long as fingers. Tingers.
Dominic claimed Sheila’s seat as the other people at the table went silent. “You don’t mind if I join you?” He took in the guilty, slack-jawed faces.
Kendra noted his endearing habit of needlessly adjusting the bridge of his glasses when he sat.
Piper’s sour expression revealed what her chapped lips did not.
“Your ears must’ve been burning, Dominic,” said Zoe, twinkling at him.
“Oh?” Dominic’s turned to Kendra.
“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t talking about you,” Kendra fibbed.
“Piper here brought up that Publishing Grapevine article and the Internet rumor about Penelope’s reported multi-million dollar advance for her second book,” said Zoe.
Piper’s narrow face flushed, but the scowl remained.
Uh-oh. Kendra braced for the inevitable clash. Was Zoe stirring up trouble fo
r the table’s entertainment or trying to curry favor with Dominic by exposing Piper? Maybe it was a bit of both.
“Care to confirm that figure they printed, Dominic?” Piper flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Dominic said as he gestured at a female server carrying a coffee pot. He gifted the pretty brunette with warm thanks and his trademark smile as she filled a cup for him. She flashed a look that promised a slip of paper with her seven digits would soon follow.
“I don’t know why that Publishing Grapevine reporter even bothered to attribute the amount to an ‘unnamed source,’” Piper said. “We all know who that unnamed source is.”
“You think I leaked that info?” asked Dominic, who couldn’t have sounded more insincere. “Now why on earth would I do such a thing when it would only evoke resentment?” He dumped too much cream in his coffee cup, and then stirred, creating light mocha swirls.
“I can think of a few reasons,” Piper said, “with ginormous ego topping the list. Don’t pretend you don’t just love lording such things over people.”
“Jealous much, Piper?” Zoe asked with a tsk-tsk.
Piper’s nostrils flared as she opened her mouth to round on Zoe.
“Has everybody tasted the delicious strawberry papaya?” Kendra intervened. She signaled a male server, requested more, and rhapsodized about the quality of the island fruit for a good five minutes.
Another agent requested an extra serving of the strawberry papaya, and then another made a comment about the latest ebook technology that promised to change the industry. Disastrous dispute circumvented, Kendra settled back in her chair as the conversation divided into various less polarizing topics.
“You’re fashionably late,” Kendra said to Dominic.
“I love a good story that starts in medias res,” he said.