Great! Can I come ask a question?
A minute later she was standing in his doorway. “Can love and romance be used interchangeably?”
He ran a meaty hand over his beard shaking out a few errant muffin crumbs. “Well, I’d say love is a unique chemical interaction that happens between two people. Romance is the overall gestalt.”
“Gestalt?”
“The whole enchilada: more than the sum of its parts.”
Alexa cocked her head. “So romance is the overview of two people falling in love?”
“Yes. I guess.”
She thought about Sari and Rob who’d flown back to Sedona early that morning. They were experiencing love and gave off a romantic vibe. She and Luke were not in love even though they’d had a romantic interlude. She felt sad at what might have been.
As if on cue, a text rolled in from Sari: Just landed in Phoenix. Ty 4 everything.
They both promised to be better communicators. Despite Alexa’s ongoing disorientation, she had to move forward. They’d all agreed it was best to rule out any doubt by taking DNA tests. The kits were ordered. Rob’s treat.
________
The first book signing was scheduled for the last week in July at the Barnes & Noble in Sunrise. At two o’clock on Saturday afternoon, a wiry young black man, whose nametag read Marcus: Book Events, stepped to the podium, frizzy dreadlocks tumbling over his blue button-down shirt. He tapped the mic and an electronic screech filled the alcove.
“Thanks for coming to this special event,” he said in a voice that sounded like silk. “Today we have two first-time authors to tell you what inspired them and sign copies of their books. So without further ado, I’d like to introduce Lana Cox, author of The Cat’s Meow.”
Lana took the mic and said, “Actually, um the title is The Cat’s Shadow. But thanks Mark.”
Wearing a black sleeveless shift dress with a necklace of mustardy yellow beads, Alexa realized they had indeed pulled off the impossible. Lana looked human. Around her upper arm was a tattoo of three cat butts. Her hair had been professionally styled and makeup applied with a steady hand. Alexa suspected Helen Parry had finally taken control of her niece. But peeping out from under the table were the ugly sandals and unpolished toenails.
Speaking in a high-pitched and unsteady voice, Lana began her presentation. “My cats um were the inspiration for my new book.”
She glanced around the audience, predominantly the Galloway clan, plus a smattering of friends, family members, coworkers, seniors and bored homemakers. Her Aunt Helen sat in the front row in a designer suit, perfectly coiffed as usual. Bryan leaned nonchalantly against a bookcase off to the side. Zev and his rail-thin wife, Elisha, were present, along with Phil, another senior editor. Cara appeared so eager for her turn Alexa feared that she might jump up and yank the microphone from Lana’s trembling hand. The big bad wolf had met her match: public speaking.
“Um, I was influenced by er Lilian Jackson Braun and her um-uh her wonderful cozy mysteries. As many of you um know, I have a bunch of cats, but um I can’t say how many uh because er you might think I’m one of those uh crazy cat ladies.”
The audience chuckled politely as she pointed to her tacky tattoo.
Rumors of her feline colony swept the office periodically, reports ranging from nine to two dozen. Perhaps all her hard-earned money went for kitty chow and expensive litter, leaving nothing for a wardrobe. Feeling mean-spirited, Alexa tried to focus on the talk, but found it increasingly difficult as the blustery office manager stumbled along.
“So I had this um idea about an old woman being murdered and uh the cats are the only witnesses, so you know I mean they can’t talk, only meow and, well, I don’t know, the idea just came to me, I think uh um it was in a dream or something. Does that ever happen to anybody else; uh you get an idea in the middle of the night?”
Her eyes darted around the room, up to the ceiling and down, to the left and right, as though she was on a roller coaster ride. Perhaps that’s the way she felt.
Alexa glanced over to Mrs. Parry who leaned forward anxiously, trying to get Lana to focus. Mr. Frost pushed away from the bookcase stricken with dismay. With no cue cards or notes, and oblivious to the gibberish she was spouting and all the crutch words she was using, Lana plowed on unfazed.
“I picked the um pickaxe as the murder weapon uh because in the Braun books they lived in the town of Pickaxe City. I thought it was uh-um pretty clever. Of course the cats are okay, um, er, I mean, they aren’t traumatized, well, maybe there are just a bit. I um, I don’t know. I don’t want to give the plot away or anything but the kitties lead the detective, um, Mr. Kyoto, to um the murderer. That’s all I’m er saying. Well, it’s been nice talking to you. I hope you buy my book, it’s really good. Lots of creepy fun, it’s uh um a cozy mystery, if I didn’t tell you that.”
A smattering of polite applause ensued as the audience sat dumbfounded. Dreadlocked Marcus came to the rescue.
“Thanks Ms. Cox, nice job. If anybody wants to purchase a copy of her cat mystery she’ll be over there signing them.” He pointed to a table covered with a black cloth and stacks of the paperback. “And now for Cara Gallo...” he consulted his notes. “Cara Galloway author of Love Times Three.”
As the petite brunette author stepped up to the podium, the audience erupted in raucous cheers that ricocheted throughout the store. The winning novelist looked exquisite in a tailored powder blue Victoria Beckham sheath with a twist at the shoulder that retailed for more than two thousand dollars. She’d won the grand prize, so she could easily afford it, although Alexa suspected it was the six-hundred-dollar knockoff.
Her face was so dazzlingly happy Alexa needed sunglasses to protect her eyes from the sparkle. This is what a bestselling author looked like. This is what she would look like one year from today.
Adjusting her note cards, Cara gazed at the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for coming. I’m Cara Galloway, in case you didn’t know.”
Looking at her parents, she said, “Mom and Dad, I love you so much. To my friends and fellow coworkers, I appreciate your support. Welcome to my opening. I mean my book signing.”
She smiled warmly, doe eyes scanning the crowd, making contact with everyone. “I’d like to introduce you to the rest of my posse, my sisters Felicity and Hope. Please stand up and take a bow. You are my heart and soul. Without you this book would never have been written.” As her doppelgangers stood up, all three with dark tresses and petite bodies in high-end outfits, blood rushed through Alexa’s ears.
Holyfuck!
Felicity and Hope were Cara’s sisters? They were also the randomly selected names of the fire-crotch twins in the stupid novel she’d trashed. What if it had been published? Talk about a lawsuit. Bryan Frost had been right! She felt a bloom of hives on her chest and started scratching. But she’d picked the names from thin air. She’d never heard Cara mention them before. How was that possible? Was she psychic? Telepathic?
Cara’s words shot out like machinegun fire, rat-a-tat-tat. Without a hiccup she brilliantly described how, despite numerous complications and obstacles, she and her sisters had found true love. “We all married on Christmas Eve in the most magical ceremony anybody after could ever imagine.” She beamed as the audience broke into cheers. Alexa clapped and shouted, “Way to go Cara!”
Marcus took the microphone as the cheering continued, drowning out whatever he was saying. It didn’t matter. Cara was a brilliant storyteller. Alexa gave her props for preparing ahead of time and rehearsing a flawless delivery. As the featured authors went to their respective tables to sign copies and greet well wishers, Bryan beckoned her over.
“That could be you next year. I hope you’ve been working hard. I know you can write a winner.”
She nodded. “I can. Thanks for setting me up with Zev. He’s been a great help.”
His dark eyebrows arched, creasing his forehead. “Really? More than I was?”
“No comparison.�
��
“No comparison?”
His face reflected his puzzlement as Alexa smiled coyly. “I’m glad you changed the title of Lana’s book. It’s much better.”
Mrs. Parry interrupted. She spoke to Bryan as though Alexa was a bale of hay. “Perhaps you should say a few words, thank everyone for coming while I help Lana with the books.”
As Bryan strode toward the podium, Alexa turned to Helen. “Can you spare a minute? We need to talk about what happened.”
“This isn’t the time or the place.” The chill in her voice gave Alexa pause, but she recovered quickly.
“It’s the perfect place.”
Helen folded her arms across her chest. “I told you it was a stupid idea.”
Alexa drew in a deep breath. “Your book is wonderful. The advice is solid. It’s well written. You’re a natural-born author.”
Mrs. Parry’s mouth turned down.
“When I showed it to Bryan, he thought it was worthy of publication. It was Lana who blew your cover. Remember, you put your name on the bottom of the original pages so your niece was tipped off early on. I just don’t understand why she’s picking a bone with you.”
“Trust me, there’s a good reason.”
Alexa suspected it had to do with the Ponzi scheme. Perhaps she’d lost her nest egg.
“But the two of you always seem so cozy.”
“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving.” Helen’s stoicism began dissolving as she spoke. “I don’t know why she can’t move beyond her anger. But she can’t. It’s so petty.”
Myriad questions thrummed in Alexa’s head. But she had no desire to get embroiled in their drama. She had enough of her own. “At least she looks nice today.”
Lana’s strident voice carried across the noisy room. “Helen, I need you over here!”
“I did my best.” Helen smiled ruefully. “But it was a battle.”
“You did great.”
“I’d better go before she blows a fuse.”
“But what about your book?”
“She got me this job when my life slid into the toilet. I’m certain she felt the book was a dig at the way she looks.”
“You mean the chapter What Not to Wear.”
“All of it.”
They stood without speaking as Lana called out, “Now, Aunt Helen!” Both glanced over at the two customers and Lana waving frantically.
“Listen, there are other publishers. I know an agent in New York who takes self-help books. I’ll reach out to her. Or you can publish it yourself. Everybody’s doing it. You can use Don to design the cover and format the interior. Then you open an account on KDP and upload your book. It only takes a few minutes.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I’ll proofread it for nothing. Your book could help loads of women, and one in particular. I love what you came up with for the chapter on The Domino Effect. Please don’t be discouraged.”
Driving home, Alexa replayed the scene and smiled. Helen had embraced her warmly as Lana watched in shock. They both waited for the eruption. That would come on Monday, but for the moment she felt appreciated. She visualized herself in front of a rapt audience relating her story of love lost and found. With only three chapters to write, she really could win this time.
If only she knew the answer to the million-dollar question: Did Brad Stone live or die?
CHAPTER 67
AUGUST WAS hot with oppressive humidity and afternoon thunder-storms. Day camp ended and school supplies were prominently displayed as a flurry of preparations kept Alexa and Hannah busy with trips to the mall and Target. The end-of-summer beach bashes and ongoing volleyball tournaments were held as Alexa struggled to calculate how an entire year had passed so quickly with so much unexpected excitement. It seemed like a conspiracy to prevent the completion of her novel. She was close, down to the last few important pages, excitement percolating like a fresh pot of coffee. How many false starts did she have? She’d lost count months ago, but she now had 78,089 good solid words.
Hannah’s birthday was a few days away. Last year’s party had been marred by an overflowing air conditioner and Mike Boswell knocking at the door unannounced. They kept it low key with dinner out—just Alexa, Zelda and the birthday girl who then went to Doc’s house for a small friends-only party. At Zelda’s, she waited while her elderly neighbor changed into pajamas and settled on the couch with an old Cary Grant movie.
“He was handsome, wasn’t he? I would’ve had sex with him.”
Alexa glanced sideways at Mrs. Kendrick who never stopped thinking about time and sex, sex and time. It seemed there was never enough of either. She said, “The rumors were that he preferred men.”
Zelda scrunched her face. “If I’d met him when I was younger,
I would have proven that rumor false. But once you reach seventy, it’s a downhill slide to the nursing home.”
“Not for you my friend,” said Alexa patting her hand. “I won’t let that happen.”
“I don’t always get dressed and I have visitors at night.”
“No problem. We’ll wear blinders and put cotton balls in our ears.”
“I have FOMO.”
“Say what?”
“Fear of missing out. I heard it on a show.”
“You don’t miss a trick, do you?”
“I’m on the ball—for a woman of my age.”
Alexa stood up. “Pleasant dreams.”
Zelda grinned slyly. “They always are.”
Back in her empty unit, she turned on Pandora, letting soft music fill the apartment. Luke hadn’t vanished entirely, but close enough. After their passionate post-July Fourth fireworks they seemed to drift apart. Communication was virtually non-existent, except for the occasional text. Now and then she’d spot him lugging groceries upstairs or glimpse his sporty Tesla in the guest spot. At those times she felt a profound sadness. The bright candle of their romance had burned so brightly before flickering at New Year’s Eve and with such intensity during their heady weekend away it seemed impossible it had gone out completely.
Luke had a five-year game plan which now didn’t seem to include her. He was a smart guy, astute, and also punishing. He knew Rick wanted to come for a visit so he was clearing the path. He’d rather switch then fight, or was he stepping aside, letting her make up her own mind without making her choose between them?
Alexa didn’t have a clue as she shook off the disappointment and quickly chugged out eight pages. She was on the last chapter: the final plot twist.
The day had been hot and unbearably humid. A rain squall had moved through while they ate at the Bonefish Grill, blowing palm fronds onto a few unlucky cars. In a glorious blaze of pink-orange and purple the sun had set. Now, going on ten o’clock it was pitch black. The AC chugged nonstop and Alexa worried that her bill would be astronomical. Were summers getting hotter or was this the onset of warm flushes?
Restless and disconcerted, she walked downstairs into the pool area, pulling one of the lounge chairs down from the neat stack. The pump kicked on and off. Street sounds and the steady gurgle of water joined the chirping crickets and eerie buzz of cicada bugs. She’d read once they could be heard a mile away. Blue television lights flickered behind curtains. The pool glowed aquamarine, quite lovely, as inviting as a tropical lagoon. She had brought down a cotton shawl to protect her bare skin from thirsty insects. With her knees pulled up and the phone propped up against her thighs, she was alone and yet surrounded by people as she waited for the jitters to subside so she could speak in a normal voice and not sound like a mouse on steroids.
Currents of excitement and trepidation fought for control as she steadied herself. After weeks of reflection, the decision was made. She hit speed dial, praying he’d pick up fast, before she lost her resolve or her courage faded. On the third ring her heart leapt into her throat.
His undeniably sexy voice made her body hum with pure unadulterated lust. “Hey you. What a nice surprise.”
; “How’s it going?”
He chuckled softly. “Good as gold. So tell me, is the book done?”
“Down to the final chapter.”
“Do I get the girl?”
She didn’t have the courage to correct him: did he live or die?
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Give me a hint.”
“That wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
“Oh hell, all’s fair in love.”
Nobody spoke for a minute. Then Rick asked, “Any hurricanes on the horizon?”
“Just a tropical storm off the coast.”
“So let me ask you something.”
“Ask away.” She smiled in the darkness.
“What if there was a hurricane named Wilbur on the west coast, and a hurricane named Matilda on the east coast?”
“You’re making that up.”
“Okay, bear with me for a second,” his voice dropped even lower, sending shivers up her arms. “And what if they started moving toward each other and met over Kansas?”
“Could that really happen?”
“Stick with the imagery. What if they started swirling around each other? Would he be on top, soft as a whisper, or would she be on top, riding him like a bucking bronco?”
“I think your brain needs readjusting.”
“Probably so, but would their passion spawn a tornado?”
Alexa laughed, her voice slicing the muggy air.
“You think that’s funny?”
“I do. Well, I suppose they’d be seeing eye-to-eye.”
“Very clever young lady, but I’ll tell you this: it’d be juicy and very tantalizing.”
“Hold on Mr. Lumberjack. What’s happening here?”
“This is all just hypothetical of course, but what if he could wrap his warm fluffy cloud arms around her and pull her to him until they fused into some newfangled weather phenomenon?”
“Are we having phone sex? I’m outside by the pool.”
Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2) Page 26