Stargazing (The Walker Family Book 2)

by Bernadette Marie

  The thought comforted her. She had a home. Even in L.A., where she’d grown up, they never really had a home. Her mother moved them from one friend’s apartment to another depending on their financial situation.

  Tears began to sting in her throat. She missed her mother horribly—though she really didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because she had been all Bethany had ever had in her life.

  Maybe that’s what this gloomy mood was all about. Family surrounded her, but the one person that had always been there was missing. She’d passed away before Christmas.

  She batted against the tears that threatened to fall. She couldn’t go back now. This was where she was in her life. Tomorrow she’d don the apron that said Susan Hayes Catering, with the dangling strawberries on it, and she’d smile as she served at the book club. In time she’d etch out her own place in Georgia with her family. Everything took time.

  The thought made her smile as she opened the door to her car and stepped out into the street.

  A police cruiser turned the corner and slowed as it approached her. She knew Douglas Brant was locked away and it wasn’t his cruiser pulling toward her. That didn’t stop her heart from leaping into her throat and her hands from shaking.

  The car pulled to a stop behind hers and Officer Smyth stepped out. He was smiling and it wasn’t his sleazy, pick-up-on-you smile.

  “Ms. Waterbury.”

  “Officer Smyth. What can I do for you?”

  “I was just checking up on you. I saw you drive by.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I heard Eric’s house is almost finished. I’m glad they were able to rebuild.”

  “It’ll be nice when it’s done.” She watched him take off his hat and run his hand over the rim. “Was there something else?”

  He shrugged. “It’s kinda childish really. I got word that you and Ms. Hayes were catering a lunch tomorrow for a book club.”

  “That’s right. There’s no danger to us, is there?” It was a silly sounding question, but the man who tried to kill her was a police officer. Her trust level was at an all-time low.

  “No. No,” he said shaking his head. “I’m a big fan of Kent Black’s.”

  She let her shoulders drop. “You want a book signed?”

  “It would mean the world to me.”

  “Why don’t you just stop by?” She couldn’t believe she was inviting him. Lydia was going to come unglued. The man had hit on her for years and she detested him. “I think he’s going to speak for the first hour and then mingle and sign books the rest of the time.”

  He bit down on his bottom lip with his teeth and his brows drew in. “Lydia isn’t going to like that.”

  “Don’t ask her out then. I’ll make it okay. Just come by.”

  His face softened. “I really appreciate this.”

  She actually believed he did. “No problem.”

  “You have yourself a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, placing his hat back on his head and returning to his car.

  Well, that was pleasant, she thought.

  Bethany closed her car door and headed to the house. Kent Black, the name hummed in her brain. Who’d have thought that everyone she knew was into some sci-fi writer? She certainly didn’t see that coming. What was the big deal about him?

  She shut the door and set her bag on the table in the living room.

  Susan’s copy of his book caught her attention. The hardcover was protected with a shiny dust jacket. Quantum a novel by Kent Black.

  She ran her hand over the raised front. There had to be six hundred pages in that book, she thought as she flipped the pages.

  Reading wasn’t her strongest skill, but as an actress she couldn’t admit that. As a child, she’d struggled with dyslexia, but she’d fought that battle and won. Now she just had to take her time.

  Bethany turned the book over and came face to face with Kent Black.

  Dark hair. Dark eyes. Pale complexion. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest as if he was superior, but his face didn’t convey that. He looked shy, that was it. As if the photo itself made him nervous. She couldn’t help but think he looked vaguely familiar, but she certainly hadn’t met him.

  Bethany looked at her watch. Susan and Eric were going out to his parents’ house for dinner and wedding planning. Bethany had turned down the invitation to join them. That meant she was alone all evening.

  She weighed the heavy book in her hand. Quantum a nine-hundred-pound book by Kent Black, she humored.

  Well, it was time to see what all the fuss was about.

  Chapter Four

  Bethany forced her eyes to open and they stung and burned. She rubbed them, even though her mother had taught her to never do so.

  She looked at the clock on the table next to her bed. Ten o’clock.

  The room was ablaze with sunlight and she jumped out of bed, nearly stumbling right into the wall.

  She never slept that late. She’d missed doing her yoga, which had become her savior from bad habits she’d created living in Hollywood. She was supposed to help Susan finish packing up the catering job.

  Hopping around the room, she looked for her slipper and then the other. Her hair flopped over her eyes and she scooped it back.

  Damn that Kent Black. She’d picked up that stupid book at six o’clock last night and she hadn’t fallen asleep until six in the morning. Never in her whole life had she read that much. The book was exactly five hundred and three pages long. But she’d been sucked in. She couldn’t put it down. Her arms had grown tired and she’d propped the book up. She’d moved from the couch, to the chair, to the floor, to the tub, finally ending up in bed.

  Bethany flung open her bedroom door and clomped down the stairs and into the kitchen where Susan turned with a gasp.

  “What happened to you?” Susan asked, her apron already stained and a spatula in her hand.

  “Kent Black!” She shoved her hair out of her face again.

  Susan’s eyes widened. “You have Kent Black here?”

  “What? No!”

  “Then what did he do to you?”

  “I was up all freaking night reading that stupid book of yours.”

  “That’s where it went,” Susan said as she chuckled. “I thought I’d lost my mind. It was on the table.

  “Was.” Bethany nodded. “I’ve never read that much. I had dyslexia growing up and I’m a very slow reader, but last night I couldn’t put it down. It sucked me in and…”

  Susan was laughing. “I get it. I understand.”

  “I don’t read sci-fi.”

  “Oh, no, I think you do now.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t do it again,” she said, still laughing and turning toward her pan.

  “I’ll go get ready and help you. I’m so sorry I slept so long.”

  “Take your time. Glenda is coming over to help.”

  Bethany nodded as she retraced her steps up the stairs. Glenda, Eric’s stepmother, had become their third person in the catering company. Really, she just wanted to bond with Susan and Susan was okay with that. Today it would be a blessing since Bethany obviously wasn’t much help.

  Maybe she’d give Kent Black a piece of her mind when she saw him later for keeping her up and throwing her off her game.

  Bethany raced to her room, turned on her shower, and quickly ran a brush through her tangled mess of hair. She hadn’t even put it up last night. It seriously might take an hour to get all the knots out.

  She undressed and climbed into the shower, which was nearly scalding. Letting out a muffled scream she turned the water down, but too far, as she was nearly frozen. Did she really have time for this?

  It had been a long time since she’d had such a morning, but usually it was brought on from something other than just reading.

  Finally, the water was right and she began to wash the tangles from her hair. She scrubbed and shaved and washed her hair again, because she was quite sure she’d conditione
d first and forgotten to rinse that out.

  Today was just going to be a mess, she decided. Why did people purposely stay up all night and read books? She felt hung-over. This didn’t feel much different than partaking in one of her mother’s sleeping aids. A beautiful bottle of wine would have been a lot more fun.

  Okay, that wasn’t fair. She’d enjoyed the stupid book. She’d actually fallen in love with the main character, Quinn Lamont, she imagined him on a sigh. There was no need for her to be so worked up over having read it. It didn’t mean she’d read his next one.

  In fact, she thought if this was how she felt when she was done with the book, she would make a pact with herself. She’d never read another Kent Black book again.

  Her hair felt silky. The tension in her shoulders faded away and she could breathe. That was better.

  ~*~

  Kent didn’t have that many clothes, but looking at them all strewn across the bed in his hotel room, he wondered what he was going to wear.

  He’d tried to be edgy with a hip T-shirt. After all, when he’d gone to Comic-Con, the most influential people there were only in jeans and a T-shirt. Usually a printed T-shirt. He’d gone to a few panels where the speaker wore a Captain America shirt.

  Yet, he couldn’t make himself do it. It wasn’t him.

  He’d tied on four of his six ties and yet that hadn’t appeased him either.

  How was it he suddenly didn’t know who the hell he was?

  A glance in the mirror proved to him that he’d needed that haircut yesterday. At least one part of him didn’t look as disheveled as he felt.

  He pulled off the T-shirt he’d put on and slipped into a dress shirt. It was just nerves. He got them every time before he spoke in front of people and was forced to shake hands. Really, it was a crazy world for an introvert to put himself out there like he had. But that was the norm for writers. They were comfortable in their boxers writing stories that transformed the lives of normal people. They themselves were afraid of their own shadow, yet they put themselves on secret display.

  It was part of the job, he reminded himself. He chose this path and it had filled his bank account nicely. Which had made his mother question why he’d bought his sister’s ten-year-old minivan.

  He was simple. He could admit that. There was no need for anything fancy. Usually those things just disappeared anyway. Someone stole them or they were ruined. A nice car would be no different. Seriously, who wanted a faded, gold minivan with a dent in the side door from a runaway shopping cart? No one.

  After nearly an hour, he’d settled on a dress shirt and a sport coat—no tie.

  For his own humor, he had a Superman T-shirt on under his dress shirt.

  The book club was meeting in a place called The Garden Room. When Kirk pulled up in front of the building, it certainly wasn’t what he’d expected. The outside looked like a refurbished warehouse. Sure, it was kept up, but it didn’t fit the bill of what he thought a garden room would look like. He parked across the street. There was a sandwich board out front that said Book Club, Featuring Kent Black. He took a deep breath.

  He vividly remembered the first time he read aloud something he’d written. Sophomore year in high school. He’d written a short story, which the teacher had been taken with. She’d asked him to read it in front of the class, much to his dismay. What if someone hated it?

  Well, he got hit with someone’s tuna sandwich from lunch before the class broke into hysterics.

  It didn’t stop the teacher. She had him in the teachers’ lounge reading. That led to everyone in attendance writing him letters of recommendation for a scholarship—in which he received.

  Who’d have thought they’d pay him to do this now?

  As he stepped out of his van he caught a glimpse of a woman running toward a Subaru. Nicely dressed, short dark hair, and bright red lips. She opened the hatchback and pulled out an enormous tray covered in foil and then nearly dropped it trying to close the hatch.

  “I’ll get that,” he called out as he looked both ways and sprinted across the street.

  “Thank you, I…” The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re Kent Black.”

  Now it was time to put on the charm and act as if he enjoyed the attention. “I am, and you’re going to spill your tray. Let me carry that for you. Are you here for the book signing?”

  The woman placed her hands on her chest. “I’m Lydia Morgan.”

  “Then I guess you are. Nice to meet you.”

  “You have no idea what an honor it is to have you here.”

  “I appreciate that. Where are we taking this?”

  “Just around the back. Susan, the caterer, is setting up. She’d forgotten this one tray. Her assistant is a bit late.”

  He gave her an easy chuckle, hoping to ease her a bit.

  “I’ll set this down for you and then go out and get the extra books in my car. I know you said you’d purchased some, but…” He stopped speaking when he turned the corner and saw an entire table full of books. “I guess you have enough.”

  “Most of them are pre-sold, but people have been calling all week. Don’t bring yours yet, but we might need them.”

  Happy day, he thought as he followed her toward the small kitchen.

  A woman with a long dark ponytail and a red apron arranged trays of dipped strawberries. When she caught sight of him, her eyes opened wide, just as Lydia’s had.

  “Hi.” Her mouth turned up into an enormous smile. “I’m Susan. Thank you for your help,” she said holding her hands up much like a surgeon would. “I’d shake your hand, but…”

  “We can do that later. I’m Kent.”

  “I love your books. I’m sorry to look so stupid, but I’m very excited to meet you.”

  “Thank you. This all looks wonderful.”

  “Very simple garden affair,” she said.

  “I haven’t seen a garden yet,” he admitted and that had Lydia touching his arm.

  “Come with me.”

  She led him through a room which he assumed would be used for banquets and receptions and out through another door which led to the outdoor Garden Room.

  This time his breath was taken away. “This is magnificent,” he said. “No one would ever think this was back here.”

  “Isn’t it brilliant? My mother inherited some money years ago. Add that to her alimony my father paid, which we won’t get into,” she said on a laugh. “She bought this old warehouse and turned it into a hall. This is the first function in the Garden Room, which was my design.”

  “You did this?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Bethany helped me choose what would go where. Her mother did some flower arranging and she’s very good at it.”

  “Bethany?”

  “Bethany Waterbury, perhaps you’ve heard of her.”

  It was his turn to be star struck, just by the name. “Of course I know who she is. I’m a huge fan of B-movie horror flicks. God, I’ve seen her killed in a dozen movies. She’s brilliant. And beautiful—though I make that assumption since she usually has blood covering her face.”

  Lydia laughed again and her hand came easily to his arm, again. “She is beautiful and you’ll love her.”

  “She’s coming here?” The words croaked from his throat.

  “Of course she is. She lives here now. She’s Susan’s fiancé’s other cousin. I’m one too, but not related to her,” she added with a laugh. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a lemonade. I expect guests will arrive in about fifteen minutes.”

  He nodded as she retreated back into the building.

  He pulled a chair out from the table beside him. Bethany Waterbury. She lived in Georgia and she was going to be at his book signing. What an honor.

  Just for fun, he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and went to his IMDb app. He looked her up by name and more than a hundred pictures flashed on his screen.

  The breath in his lungs caught and his hands began to shake.

&nb
sp; Redhead, glorious redhead in yellow flowered sundress.

  It had been Bethany Waterbury.

  Chapter Five

  People were already pulling into parking places on the street as Bethany pulled up in front of the building. She was already an hour late. She’d hardly helped with preparation at all. Her hands smelled of gasoline because she’d needed to fill her car or she wasn’t going to have made it.

  Finally, a parking space on the other side of the street appeared. Flipping a U-turn in the middle of the street, she pulled up to the space. Judging it with her car, she realized that the gold minivan had gone over the space by at least five inches. She couldn’t get her car in there. Someone was not getting ice in their tea today, she decided as she pulled up to the next block to find a parking space.

  She parked her car, opened the door, and climbed out as quickly as she could. Already her hair was coming loose from the ponytail and when she shut the door her apron was closed in it.

  Breathe, she reminded herself as she opened the door, then cleared it before closing it and running toward the building where guests were already streaming in.

  “Are you okay?” was the first thing Susan asked as she flew through the door. It was enough to have Bethany stop and take it in. “You’re an hour late and I thought you were right behind me. Did something happen? You didn’t get hurt did you?”

  She should have known better than to not have called. After all that crap with Douglas Brant, everyone wanted her accounted for at all times. She couldn’t blame them. The man had tried to kill Eric and she didn’t want to think of what his plans for her had been. Besides, no one knew if he was the only one in town with some crazy obsession over her.

  She willed herself to calm. Her mother would have taken a pill to calm the anxiety. Bethany wondered if they worked.

  Bethany fixed her apron. “I’m fine. I stayed up too late reading and I seem to be discombobulated this morning. I stopped for gas too. I’m going to go fix my hair and wash my hands. I’m fine though and I’ll be okay to work in about five minutes.”