The only other woman in the room faced Lexa. “I take it you two know each other.”
She glanced at the commanding yet feminine voice. Coral Winthrop? “Oh my gosh, you’re Coral Winthrop. CEO, president, owner of CCW.” She jutted out her hand. “Lexa Wilder. It’s so great to meet you. Wow.”
“Likewise.” Coral shook her hand. “Won’t you join us? Maybe we can figure out this puzzle?”
Lexa hesitated, glanced around the circle, then retrieved the invitation from the floor with a cutting glance at Jett and made her way to the only empty chair.
“I’m not a writer. I don’t do story. And I certainly wouldn’t have invited him.” She gestured toward Jett.
“Then why’d you come?” Jett regarded her with his arms crossed, his chin raised, a challenging flash in his eyes.
“A lapse of judgment on my part.” Sigh. The large man sat in the chair next to Coral. He had kind eyes with a bit of smolder beneath.
Jett took his seat. “Let’s talk. See if we can find something or someone we all have in common.”
“I’m Chuck Mays,” the large man said. “And this is Ed Marshall.”
“Nice to meet you.” She sat on the edge of the seat, lowering her backpack to the floor.
She liked the library’s warm ambience and scent of precious old books. The wood fire perfumed the atmosphere with memories and the desire for a s’more.
With an exhale, Lexa released the shock of seeing Jett. Without him, the room and the others in the circle seemed perfect. Like a warm group to hang with once in a while.
She didn’t have many friends since the divorce. Her friends had been his and, well . . .
She pointed to the Underwood typewriter cradled on Ed’s lap.
“My grandma used to have one of those,” she said.
“Only way to go.” Ed patted the side of the machine, smiling.
“Jett, how do we start this society?” Chuck said, perched forward with his arm on his thighs. “See where everyone’s from? Maybe we can figure out what we have in common.”
“Florida,” Lexa said, letting out some of her held breath, relaxing a bit in the alluring hues of the fire and the flickering electric flames of the wall sconces. The hardwoods were gleaming and the rug beneath her feet had to be at least three inches thick. She imagined it to be a carefully preserved Persian.
Chuck was from New Jersey. Everyone else, New York.
“Let’s start with the obvious,” Coral said. “You two know each other.” She indicated Jett and Lexa.
“We’re exes.”
“Ah, of course,” Chuck said. “I recognize the animosity.”
“Not on my part,” Lexa said.
“I don’t know, the dagger in your eyes when you first saw him . . .” Coral grinned.
Did she think this was funny? Lexa certainly didn’t, but she admired the woman more than she cared to be offended.
“I was just surprised to see him.” Lexa sank deeper into her soft, well-worn leather seat.
While finding Jett here was an unpleasant surprise, meeting Coral Winthrop made it worthwhile. Coral was a captain of industry. Four years ago she had taken over the archaic CCW, founded by her great-grandmother, and brought it into the twenty-first century.
Lexa could endure the next forty minutes or so for a chance to know Coral better. Maybe work up the courage to ask her advice on heading a company.
“How’d you two meet?” Coral shifted her gaze between them.
“Florida State.” Low, and in unison.
Jett took over the story. “I got accepted at NYC for grad school, where I’m now an associate professor. I asked Lexa to marry me and she said yes. And here we are.”
“Not married,” Chuck said.
“The long and short of it, yes.”
Lexa sank deeper, if possible, in her chair. It felt surreal to sit next to Jett as if he were nothing more than a casual acquaintance.
“Lexa, what do you do?” Seriously, could Coral be any more elegant and graceful, charming, and beautiful? Her features were delicate but pronounced, perfectly molded, as if God Himself took extra care to create such a stunning being.
“Executive for Zane Breas at ZB Enterprises.” She left off assistant because it made her feel like the water girl for the football team where Coral was head cheerleader.
Coral acted impressed. “One of the fastest growing restaurant businesses in the nation.”
“Too fast if you ask me, but we’re hanging in there.”
“I love ZB Burgers.” Chuck’s voice boomed. “Please tell me you’re having Zaney Days in the park this fall. I had a blast there a few years ago.”
“We are, yes.” Did she see a ghost of something in his eyes? “Best fall event in the city, according to the New York Times.”
“And it was Lexa’s brainchild.”
She turned to Jett. He remembered? Ever since his second semester of grad school he had seemed lost in another world, barely raising his head from his books.
Then his brother died and she lost him to grief. Lost him to the world of Mars and characters who lived only in his head.
“Okay, so neither of you sent the invitation.” Chuck rattled off names and places where he’d grown up.
Nothing rang a bell with the others.
Coral asked about charities. None clicked. Then she ran down a list of corporate associations. Still no hit.
Jett ran through his connections via the college. Other than the Winthrops being benefactors, there was no known connection.
Chuck had a thousand Uber passengers, but never once had he dropped one off at the Fifth Avenue Literary Society Library.
Ed lived way uptown and rarely came this far south. He was retired from the New York Times press plant and now worked as his co-op’s superintendent. His daughter was a television producer and lived on Long Island.
“What about Tenley Roth, the author?” Jett said. “Anyone know her? Her great-great-grandfather was Gordon Phipps Roth—”
“Jett’s hero,” Lexa said.
“And he visited this library with your ancestor, Coral.” He shot Lexa a look and she regretted her tone. While she hated sitting next to him, she didn’t believe he was behind this clandestine meeting.
“I’ve met her,” Coral said. “But we didn’t talk about our ancestors.”
“I don’t even know who she is.” The old man with his typewriter slumped lower and lower in his seat, hugging his machine close.
“Got me,” Chuck said.
Another round of “who knows who” and the group concluded they had no common denominator. At least not one they could compute.
“What if this is some sort of cosmic test?” Ed said. “The gods testing us?”
“To what end?” Chuck stood, stretching, pacing toward the bookshelves. “What sort of test?”
Lexa watched him and decided Chuck carried a burden he didn’t want anyone to see.
“If it’s all the same to Ed’s gods, I’d rather not be tested.” Coral brushed her hand down her arm, smoothing the wrinkles from her sleeve. “I’ve been tested enough.”
Chuck returned to his seat. “The prince? Is he the one who tested you?”