“I’m glad to see you, too, but not that glad.” Bernadette took a quick few steps away. “You’re going to get me all wet, too, and I’m in my dress-up clothes.”
I laughed. For Bernadette, anything that wasn’t yoga pants and a T-shirt was “dress-up clothes.” I felt the same way, for the most part.
I’d known whip-smart and tougher-than-she-looked Bernadette for ages. Though we lived on opposite sides of the country, we texted nearly every day and saw each other several times a year at various book festivals. The author of multiple extremely popular young-adult series, Bernadette’s most recent featured a teenaged female assassin who lived in a far-off galaxy. Ergo, the knife necklace.
“When did you get here?” she asked.
“A few hours ago. You?”
“Early this morning. I took the red-eye to Miami from SFO, then a little puddle jumper from Miami to here. I’ve already had a trolley tour of the town, a tasting at the rum distillery, and bought a beautiful painting from a pink-haired artist named Bree in some gallery down the street. This is the best day off I’ve had in ages.”
“Really?”
“Yes, are you kidding? I just handed in my latest revision, May’s finally getting the hang of potty training, Sophie started kindergarten, and we’re finally refinishing the wood floors. Everything has just been drama, drama, drama.”
I grinned. Sophie was my goddaughter, and even though we weren’t related by blood, she seemed to have taken after me. Everything with Sophie was either brilliant or a disaster.
“I love that house and both my girls to bits, but God! I’m glad to let Jen be in charge for the weekend.” Bernadette’s anesthesiologist spouse, Jen, was my dream partner. Unfailingly supportive and cheerful, Jen earned a steady income and could also cook and write emergency prescriptions. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You, too. How long has it been? Decatur Book Festival?”
“That’s it. God, that was a blast. I thought for sure we were going to get kicked out of that hotel. Anyway, what are you still doing in the pool? I know how you hate itineraries, but the meet-and-greet is in half an hour. You’re going to be late for the author bus.”
I shrugged, feeling another twinge of guilt. I never looked at festival itineraries if I didn’t have to. I enjoyed living life on the edge when I wasn’t at home, bound by my normal routine of waking-writing-eating-sleeping (or not-writing, as the case may be).
Besides, I knew if Bernadette was going to be around, I didn’t have to. She was such a take-charge kind of person, she’d tell me everything I needed to know—and what I didn’t, too.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to make it to the meet-and-greet,” I said.
“What?” Bernadette stared down at me in shock. “What do you mean? You have to go to the meet-and-greet, Jo.”
“Yeah.” I watched as the hotel’s resident cat, a gray tabby just out of kittenhood, found a small brown lizard and pounced on it, only to have it dart easily away to safety. “It’s just that Rosie said she knows an author who came here and got really inspired to write. So I’m waiting for that to kick in.”
“But there’ll be free alcohol. You and I always go to the events where they’re serving free alcohol!”
“I know. But it’s not mandatory that we attend.”
“Of course it’s not mandatory. But it’s free booze! And they flew us here first-class, didn’t they?” Bernadette had on her Mom Face—the one she always wore when Jen called to say that one of their kids was acting up. I realized I was about to be schooled. “They’re putting us up in this amazing hotel. They’re paying us a really generous stipend for what, a few hours of work? There’s a panel and signing tomorrow and then another one on Sunday. It’s hardly labor intensive. And the meet-and-greet is at some rich donor’s mansion. Don’t you want to see inside some rich donor’s super-fancy mansion? There’ll probably be some gross catered food we can make fun of. You know how much you love making fun of gross catered food.”
“Yeah. I know. It’s just that …”
“It’s just that what?”
“It’s just that Will Price is here.”
“Here?” Bernadette gasped and glanced around the hotel’s pool area in horror as if Will Price might come leaping out of the bushes at any moment.
“No, not here. I meant here on the island. He’s coming to the festival.”
Bernadette’s eyes widened. She knew how I felt about Will—and she knew why I felt that way, too. She’d been at the con where he’d said the thing that he’d said.
“No.” She shook her head in disbelief. “No way. I thought your agent checked and said he was going to be in—”
“Well, Rosie was wrong.” I stared glumly down at my margarita. The plastic cup was now empty. “I just saw him at the airport.”
“Oh, well, that doesn’t mean anything. He lives here, doesn’t he? Maybe he was—”
“No, I checked. His name’s been added to the festival website. He’s definitely going to be at all the events. And did you look in your swag bag? There’s a free copy of The Moment in it.”
“Oh, God.” Bernadette looked appropriately skeeved out. “What are you going to do?”
I pointed at the raft I was floating on. “Doing it. Going to stay right here, where it’s safe, except for when I have to do a panel or signing.” I did not add that I’d be reading The Moment to find out if Johnny ever fessed up to Melanie about offing her husband. I actually didn’t care about that. Very much.
Bernadette pressed her lips together. This was always a clear sign that she was entering full mommy mode.
“No,” she said, shaking her head until her purple bangs swayed. “No way. You are not doing this. You are not hiding from some man.”
Oh, jeez. Here came the not-so-fun part of Bernadette’s otherwise great personality. She always got this way whenever I refused to confront someone. My steak was a little too underdone, but I didn’t want to send it back? Bernadette would fuss until I did. Water glasses on the table not getting refilled quickly enough, but it was clear the waitstaff was in the weeds? Bernadette was always ready to call the manager, whereas I, who’d paid my way through college waitressing, felt that was unfair.
Now she was going full-on ballistic with my plan to avoid Will Price all weekend.
“Especially some man who dissed you!” she cried. “Not just you, but the entirety of children’s literature. You are climbing out of that water and getting dressed and coming to this meet-and-greet with me if I have to drag you out of there.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, already starting to paddle to the pool’s steps. “Fine. But I’m not going to talk to him.”
“Of course you are.” Bernadette glared as I wrapped myself in a towel. “You’re also going to look gorgeous and unobtainable and make him regret every single one of his life choices, while mentioning to everyone who’ll listen that the reason your books have been selling so successfully for so many years in so many countries is because they inspire hope while also offering comfort with their gentle life lessons and happy endings, something Will Price’s books decidedly do not do. Now go get changed before you make us late for the author bus.”