by Pepper Frost
Bea paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “That unlikely writer with the crazy idea was me,” Bea said quietly. “My name is Bea. But you know me better as Betty Snickerdoodle.”
The audience began murmuring, and some were pointing at Maria. Maria looked at Bea and smiled.
“This lovely lady – the one you’ve always thought of as Betty Snickerdoodle – well, when Betty became popular, and people started to want to see her in person, Maria helped me out by portraying Betty. See, I was afraid people wouldn’t accept a crusty ex-poker player as the author of my sweet books – and by the looks on some of your faces, I was right to be afraid,” Bea cracked.
“I was also even more afraid of giving up my privacy. But I realized recently that I shouldn’t have been afraid – because first of all, I’m fearless!” Bea cackled hysterically, right into the microphone, smacking the table with delight. Some of the attendees reflexively put their hands on their ears to blunt the painful whine of feedback reverberating through the sound system.
“There’s someone in the audience I’d like you all to meet,” Bea continued. “Oliver? Where are you, Oliver? Stand up, handsome!”
Oliver stood up slowly, shrinking slightly from all the eyes now trained on him. He gave a quick, awkward wave to the crowd before sitting back down.
“I met Oliver recently. He gave me a ride in his beautiful car, and told me about how much he and his friends love Betty Snickerdoodle. He had no idea he was talking to the author herself – and I wasn’t about to reveal my secret to him. Oliver told me that he’s a Betty Bro – and that he and his friends get a lot of grief for their love of Christmas and Treacle Town. And hearing that made me think. He’s such a handsome, charming, and smart young man, working hard and building up his own business, but he says people make fun of him and the other Bros, just because they love Betty. That’s wrong, don’t you think?
“When I started writing about Treacle Town, it was all for myself. I may have a rough exterior, but in my heart, part of me always wanted to visit a kindly place like that. Writing the books let me do it. But when people started reading them, the books were theirs, too. And I think maybe I should have had more appreciation for that – and more appreciation for fans like the Betty Bros.
“If fans like Oliver are getting razzed for loving Betty, the least I can do is love them back. They’ve outed themselves as fans, so I’m outing myself as Betty. I hope you can accept that a tough old bird like me has a soft side, and an imagination – and Treacle Town is my way of expressing them. But the thing is – if you don’t accept it, well, that’s okay, too.”
Bea stood up beside the table, and took a deep breath. Placing her hand above her brows to block the glare of the stage light, she searched the room, then tilted the microphone upward so that she could speak into it while standing.
“There’s one last thing I’d like to talk about. Is Annabelle Crane here?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A rustling sound pervaded the room as everyone turned in their seats, looking for Annabelle. An attractive, fit, meticulously groomed woman of about fifty stood up from her chair in the center of the room and waved sheepishly at Bea.
“There you are, Annabelle,” Bea said. “Would you mind joining me up on stage?”
Annabelle looked dazed, then slightly terrified. She scanned the room – apparently considering escape possibilities. The rest of the audience looked at her expectantly. Seeing no way out, she adjusted the hem of her purple silk suit, nervously fluffed the back of her age-appropriate coiffure, and made her way reluctantly to the stage.
“Don’t be scared. We’re all friends here, right?” Bea smiled sweetly and patted the prim book reviewer’s arm, causing her laden charm bracelet to jingle from the sleeve of her posh jacket. “Now Annabelle, my friend, I hear you’ve been saying some pretty nasty doo-doo about me lately. But I also know you’ve said many more nice things about me in the past. Well, at least that’s what I’ve heard. To tell the truth, I don’t even read reviews,” Bea snarked, slapping her thigh lightly. “I couldn’t care less about them.” Angela was wincing in the back of the room. “Sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all you writers. You provide a service to readers, after all,” Bea added, glancing an acknowledgment in Angela’s direction.
“Anyway, back to you, Annabelle. Would you like to share a surprising fact about yourself? Something your readers would be shocked to know? You know, something that doesn’t match up with your perfect, wholesome image as a romance novel reviewer?”
Annabelle shifted her weight slightly from foot to foot, glancing around the room as she pondered the question.
“Well…I really am pretty boring and vanilla,” Annabelle said.
“Surely you have a guilty secret or two,” Bea pressed.
“Well, sometimes I like to eat carbs. Does that count? Oh, and candy, too.”
Bea leaned away from Annabelle and starred at her, her face scrunched in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s how you walk on the wild side?”
“Um…I am okay, well, no one’s supposed to know, but I’m okay with kissing on the first date. Oh, and I don’t mind a good horror movie.”
Bea tapped her foot impatiently.
“Annabelle, now like I said, we’re all friends here,” Bea chuckled. “I think I might know something about you that’s more interesting. How about something more like this? Bend down so I can whisper it in your ear.”
Annabelle leaned over toward Bea, who cupped her hands around Annabelle’s ear so that no one else could hear what she said. As Bea whispered for several moments, the entire audience could see Annabelle’s face grow redder and redder. At one point, Annabelle seemed to lose her balance, and she grabbed the side of the table for support.
“Looks like I gave you a bit of a jolt with that, huh?” Bea guffawed. “Now – just hypothetically, of course – does that give you a few ideas? We’re on pins and needles here, Miss Crane. Show us what you got!”
Annabelle’s face looked like a boiled tomato, and she was struck dumb for what felt to the audience like an hour. “I don’t like children? I mean, I like them – just not a lot,” she finally said meekly.
“Okay, well I guess that would come as a bit of a surprise from you, dear, sweet Annabelle,” Bea said, smiling as she turned back toward the audience. “It’s okay, Annabelle. I won’t make you tell your wildest stories. But, the thing is – don’t you agree – we’ve all got sides to us that others may never imagine. Maybe we don’t live up to our best image all the time. But those wild sides are part of what makes us who we are. Isn’t that right, Annabelle?” Bea teased. Annabelle’s face went purple again. Bea nodded in her direction, and Annabelle hustled back to her seat to avoid further questions.
“Just like Annabelle, Betty – well, Betty and I – we have our wild side, too. You know, now, about my poker days. But that’s not all. That book you all hated so much – that was the book that Cash stole from me and planned to publish. He didn’t know what it was – the fool was so determined to get rich quick, he didn’t bother to read it! I guess I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t meant to be a Treacle Town book, obviously. The thing is, though, I did write it. It was me. And so, it really was Betty Snickerdoodle. But that thing was never supposed to be published.
“Looking at it now, I guess it was stupid to even put something like that on paper. But I was just trying to have a little fun. I’d been writing Treacle Town for more than 20 years and felt like trying something else – something a little crazy. In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not getting any younger!” Bea snorted.
“So I thought, what could I write that would be as different as possible from Treacle Town? That’s how I got the idea to turn Treacle Town upside down. And that’s what turned into Sleigh Ride to Hell. It was just a silly joke – and just for me. Well, I was going to share it with you, Charlie,” Bea said, looking at her agent and friend. “But it was meant to be private. It wasn’t meant to hurt anybody. It
’s just fiction. You may think the same person who wrote all the good Treacle Town books couldn’t have written it, but if Cash hadn’t tried to get rich off of me, people would still believe that Betty was sweet Maria, and I wouldn’t be here trying to explain myself.
“Really, though, don’t we all have sides to ourselves that other people might not expect – or even approve of? And why shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t some young dudes love Treacle Town – and call themselves Betty Bros? Why shouldn’t an author with a sweet imagination have a little bit of a dark side, too? Why shouldn’t an author who lived a rough-and-tumble life write lovable stories about a charming and sentimental one?
“There’s something I’ve learned in my long life. We all get one go-round on this big, blue marble. It’s too short a trip to be afraid. I say you should feel free to do whatever moves you – as long as you’re not hurting anyone else, of course. That even goes for you, too, Annabelle,” she added, winking dramatically at the reviewer. Annabelle slid down into her chair, apparently trying to disappear. “Like Oscar Wilde said, be yourself – everyone else is taken.
“Time for me to say goodbye now,” Bea sighed. “This is more talking than I’ve done in 20 years! I thank you all for coming. If you decide to write about our talk today, tell people that there is a brand-new book on the way – it’s the real thing, the real, sweet, Betty thing. And I hope you’ll tell them that there was no publicity stunt, because that’s the truth. But you know what? If it weren’t for Sleigh Ride to Hell, this new book wouldn’t exist. It was only because Cash stole my joke manuscript that I got inspired to write again.”
Of course, Bea didn’t reveal that she’d actually been hoping Cash was dumb enough to publish Sleigh Ride, and that writing a new Treacle Town was part of her plan to trap him. No one had to know that her scheme to trap Cash hadn’t gone exactly as planned.
“So please tell the fans that the new book is not for sale. It’s going to be a free e-book for anyone who wants it. I think you’ll love it, but that will be for you to decide. Angela will send you a link. It’s my small thank-you to all the fans. Because I learned something else lately: If you’re lucky enough to have fans, you really can’t thank them often enough.”
Aseem turned the houselights back up. Angela climbed onto the stage to invite anyone who had questions about the new book release to stick around – she would be happy to answer them and share details. A small crowd of journalists and bloggers stayed behind and peppered Angela and Bea with queries.
Two hours later, all the questions were answered, and Bea and Angela were alone in the empty ballroom. Maria and Charlie had said their goodbyes. Aseem had loaded up the A/V equipment to return it to hotel staff, and the last of the journalists had filed out.
“I think it went well,” Angela said. “I’m pretty sure at least some of them will write something positive about it.”
“Oh, I’m positive Annabelle will!” Bea proclaimed.
“How so?”
“When I whispered in her ear, I reminded her of a secret she would like to keep – and it’s a whole lot juicier than her candy habit,” Bea snorted. “Back when she was in college, Annabelle posed for a Girls of the Seven Sisters feature in a men’s magazine!”
“What?!”
“Of course, she went by a different name then. Rebecca helped me figure it out.”
Angela cocked her head and looked at Bea with stunned admiration. “So … did you blackmail her?”
“Nah … I mean, not really. I was bluffing. I would never out someone’s brief-but-spectacular porn career,” Bea chuckled. “Actually, the shot wasn’t even that spectacular, or that pornographic. She kept her riding breeches on, and had her arms crossed in front of her boobs. Maybe the riding crop makes it a little kinky.”
“I’ve gotta see this,” Angela laughed, pulling out her phone to search for the image. “What’s her real name?”
“Desiree Jane.”
“OMG. It even sounds like a porn star name!”
Before Angela could finish typing D-E-S-I-R into her phone’s browser, it vibrated. It was Maria, calling from the road. “Hi, Mom. Thanks again for coming today. Yes, I think it went pretty well, too. Bea? Sure, she’s right here.”
“Hi, Maria!” Bea shouted into the phone. “Got some news? 20 acres? Oh yes, the structure sounds just perfect, too. You know I trust you – draw up the papers. I know we’ve got to move fast. And sorry about laying you off your acting job today, but maybe this makes up for it!”
Angela looked at Bea expectantly, but Bea didn’t budge.
“It’s a surprise,” Bea said. “And I know you’re gonna love it. Now shall we get the e-book out there? I wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting, now that we’ve promised.”
Angela opened up her laptop and tapped away at it for a few minutes. “Okay, done. Now I just need to share it on social media.” She pointed her browser at Twitter, where she spotted a brand-new hashtag trending: #BETTYRETURNS
“Bea, I think you were right about Annabelle. She’s started a new hashtag – and it’s linked to a new article she’s written about today’s press conference.”
“Good job, girlie.”
“Bea, you know I think your idea for the free book is brilliant, but there’s just one problem,” Angela said. “We’re not going to make any money on the book now.”
“Don’t be silly, Angie,” Bea said. “We’re going to sell more of everything else, I promise. And if I’m wrong, don’t you worry. I’m going to pay you for every download of that e-book, anyway.”
“Really? That’s very generous, Bea. Thank you.”
“Not that generous, really. You do most of the work around here!” Bea chortled. “Besides, you’re going to have lots more of it, too – wait until you hear what your mom’s found for us. You’re going to earn every penny of those download fees – and then some.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aseem grabbed six large, overstuffed garbage bags by their tied tops, three in each hand, and slung them over his broad shoulders. “I’ll take these on out to the recycling center, Angel,” he announced, then headed out the back door of Bea’s house to throw the bags into the back of his truck.
“He’s trying to impress you, Angie,” Bea said.
“Ha. Those bags are filled with paper fluff. I could lift ten of them at a time,” Angela scoffed. She was working on the last pile of papers in Bea’s living room, feeding them into a large shredder. “I can’t believe we’re almost through all of your piles, Bea. Your house looks twice as big,” she added, deliberately avoiding the subject of Aseem.
“I mean he’s trying to get back into your good graces. He wants you to forgive him.”
“I think I have forgiven him. Sort of. Well, mostly.”
“That’s not how you’re acting. You still seem kind of angry to me, girlie. Though I must say you look extra pretty today,” Bea added. “Mixed messages?”
“I just don’t know if I can trust him,” Angela admitted, stuffing a tattered, ancient manuscript into the teeth of the machine a little too aggressively. The shredder jammed, emitting a painful whine. “Oops. Forgot to remove staples.”
“Angie, it’s not Aseem’s fault Cash tricked him,” Bea said. “And look how much he helped us with fixing everything.”
Once he realized the damage he’d done in working for Cash, Aseem had scrambled to put things right. He wrote careful posts redirecting visitors away from the social media pages he’d created and back to Angela’s. He answered dozens of angry reader messages, apologizing sincerely and taking the blame. Once he’d alerted everyone, he disabled the pages to avoid further confusion – and handed the thousands of email sign-ups for Sleigh Ride to Hell over to Angela.
In the end, Aseem had actually helped Bea and Angela get the word out about the free book to a lot more readers. Of course, Aseem would have strived to make amends no matter who he’d hurt by helping Cash – but he tried all the harder because it was Angela. He’d never felt a
bout a girl the way he felt about his smart, sassy, earnest friend. Seeing how he’d hurt her made him realize how important she was to him – and how much he hoped he hadn’t missed his chance with her.
“I know you’re right. I mean, my brain knows, but my heart … I just can’t think about it right now.”
“Don’t let too much time go by, Angie. You might not get a second shot. Take it from an oldster,” Bea said. “You know you only get one ride on the blue marble.”
Angela looked at Bea and smiled. This kind, philosophical Bea was almost as much of a puzzle as indestructible, unperturbable Bea. Angela pushed the last of the pages into the shredder and looked around the room. “Can you believe it, Bea? What are you going to do with all this space? How will you tolerate this clutterless existence?”
“Very funny. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll have pizza boxes all over the place in a matter of weeks,” Bea said. “Now, didn’t you promise me an update on sales? It’s been a month since the press conference: how are we doing?” Of course, Bea already knew as much as she needed to know – the free giveaway had gone swimmingly – but she also knew how much Angela loved presenting her results.
Angela pulled out her large tablet and launched the presentation she’d prepared for Bea. “Well, first of all, you were right. It didn’t matter that we gave away Treacle Town ♥ Christmas to anyone who wanted it; we sold more copies than ever of all the other books. Our subscriber email list is over 900,000 now.”
“Sorry I nearly messed up all your work,” Bea said sincerely. “I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to teach Cash a lesson. But I can see now that I was using poker strategy when chess would have been better.”