“Oh.” Garrett looked disappointed that I wasn’t more upset. He’d evidently been hoping to hear some dishy author drama. “Really? And Price apologized?”
“There was no need for him to apologize. Unlike Nicole, Will didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Didn’t do anything wrong? He said your books weren’t—” I guess Garrett was better at reading human emotion than I’d thought, since he seemed to notice my frown and abruptly reversed course. “Not that I agree with him. I think your books are great. Really great. I’ve read them all to my nieces. They can’t get enough of Kitty Katz. When’s the next one coming out, anyway?”
“I don’t have a pub date yet.”
“But even so,” Garrett went on. He never shut up, this guy. “You must have really wanted to let that guy have a piece of your mind. You know, afterward, when you heard what Price said about your books not being good enough to be worth copying. I personally can’t stand authors like that, ones who are so dismissive of children’s books and think literary novels are the only ones worth reading.”
Ha! Like Will Price’s books were literary. “If it had been me,” he blathered on, “I’d have called the bastard out—on social media, anyway—and demanded an apology.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think it was worth it.”
“Not worth it?”
“Isn’t it classier to shake it off? That’s what I always have Kitty do in my books. I like her to set a good example for readers by rising above the haters.”
I didn’t want to admit the real reason I’d never responded to what Will had said: that the Wright way was to seethe silently while inwardly plotting revenge.
Except now it looked as if I might actually have an opportunity to get it.
Only how? My mom had been the best at getting back at people. She was Sicilian, and in Sicily they—
Fortunately, that’s when Molly the librarian came racing back from the ladies’ room, her cheeks flushed.
“Oh, thank you! I feel so much better now.” She took the whiteboard from my hands and smiled brightly at Mr. Dark Magic. “Hi! You must be Garrett Newcombe. We’re so honored to have you.”
“I’m honored to be here.” Garrett smiled what I’d now begun to think of as his weasel-faced smile, even though there really wasn’t anything weasel-faced about him. I was just in a bad mood due to his reminding me that I’d still never gotten my revenge on Will Price. “So, is this it? Can we go to the hotel now? Because I for one am ready for my first official Florida Keys margarita.”
Molly looked crestfallen. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Garrett. Not quite yet. We have to wait for one more author. His flight should be in already, I don’t know what’s taking so long—”
I put on my most innocent expression. “Oh, do you mean Will Price?”
Molly brightened. “Yes! Do you know him?”
“Just a little.” I ignored Garrett, who was smirking. “He actually came through here while you were in the bathroom. Someone picked him up—a blond girl?”
Molly’s happy smile didn’t waver. “Oh, was it Chloe?”
I shrugged, trying to keep my own expression carefully neutral. “I don’t know. He didn’t introduce her. It could have been someone named Chloe.”
“Well, great then! He’s all set.” Molly reached for my carry-on. “Let’s go!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I snatched my bag back. “I can carry my own luggage, Molly. And I certainly don’t let pregnant women carry it.”
Molly laughed. “This weekend isn’t about me. It’s about celebrating all of you lovely authors. Now if you’ll follow me, your carriage awaits!”
“Well, I don’t know about you,” Garrett said to me as he trailed after Molly through the terminal’s automatic doors and out into the bright sunlight of the parking lot, “but I’m ready to be celebrated.”
“Me, too.”
Before I exited, I turned to wave to Lauren and the rest of the Will Price fangirls, who were still waiting at the baggage carousel for their luggage. “See you at the festival, ladies!”
But they didn’t hear me, because they were too busy staring down at their phones, coming up with captions for their photos with their idol.
CHAPTER FIVE
Why? Why did I start reading his stupid book?
It wasn’t my fault, though. Will’s publisher had supplied the organizers of this book festival with enough complimentary copies of The Moment to slip into every attendee’s swag bag. I’d found mine waiting on the bed when I checked into my room.
How could I resist thumbing casually through it?
Really, it was impossible not to, with its ridiculous cover showing—like all of Will’s books—an outrageously attractive pair of white people (a man and a woman, of course), almost but not quite kissing.
I didn’t want to start reading it. But I purposefully hadn’t brought any other books with me. Rosie’s words about her other author—the one who’d come to Little Bridge and written two whole chapters a day—kept haunting me. If I didn’t have anything to do, maybe I’d be tempted to write.
But then, right in my complimentary swag bag, I’d found a book by my nemesis. How could I resist?
And the Lazy Parrot Inn was the perfect setting in which to read a book about “one man’s journey to redemption.” It had been hard to tell from the photos on the website exactly what the hotel was going to be like. It had certainly looked nice (especially since I wasn’t paying for it), but people and places almost always look better online than they do in real life.
But I’d been delighted to discover upon our arrival that the Lazy Parrott was exactly as advertised. A lovely Victorian mansion with gingerbread trim, idly spinning ceiling fans, and deep, comfortable porch chairs, it screamed “relaxing oasis” in all the best ways. Brightly colored paper-umbrella-festooned drinks could be ordered from a tiki bar near the large, kidney-shaped pool in the center of the inn’s lush garden courtyard—a pool which was not only heated (not that it needed to be, given the island’s warm winter temperature), but also boasted a waterfall and an adjoining hot tub.
I knew the minute I saw it that the Lazy Parrot’s pool was where I was going to be spending all my free time during the festival. Not that my room wasn’t incredibly luxurious—room 202, a second-floor suite that looked out over the rooftops of downtown Little Bridge, all the way to the ocean, with a huge four-poster bed and its own Jacuzzi tub and kitchenette (plus a fully stocked minibar that included both peanut and plain M&M’s, my author snack of choice).
But the pool! The pool and the hot tub! I was going to be in them until my fingers and toes pruned.
And not because I was hiding from Will Price. No way. I was most definitely going to face him. Not only face him, but get revenge on him for what he’d done … or at least say something appropriately cutting to him.
Just not yet. Because I needed this break. I deserved it. I’d been working hard, not only at trying to come up with a plot for Kitty Katz #27, but at getting Dad to agree he was better off spending the winter months somewhere warm, like this place.