“No, thanks,” Alden and Roz said simultaneously, then exchanged a glance.
“Had you signed a contract with Mr. Vandershell?” Roz asked.
Craig interrupted again. “I don’t think these are the kinds of details Ms. Honeywood should be discussing with you,” he said pointedly to Alden, not Roz.
Why me? Alden was trying to shed his tabloid reputation and thought he’d been doing a pretty good job. Who was this Craig, anyway?
“It’s all right, Craig.” Enolia focused again on the reporters. “We had an agreement. Some papers were signed, but you know how the movie business is. It’s all options and pitches until someone books the caterer, signs the director and actors, and sticks them in front of the camera.”
Interesting, even if she was stingy with details. “What do you know about Wayne?” Alden asked.
“He was great at making connections, which is not one of my skills. I know that may come as a surprise,” she said, reading his expression, “but while I’m good on stage, I rarely get close to people. Wayne did.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m getting a bit tired, speaking of being on stage. It’s been a long day.”
Craig stood instantly and turned to Roz and Alden. “I’ll show you out.”
Alden ignored him and turned his winningest smile on Enolia. “Could I take a quick photo of you first for the newspaper? It would mean so much to get a photo of you here in Comet Cove. Outside of the bookstore, I mean.”
She perked up a bit. “All right. Where do you want me?”
“Your office?”
“Not today. How about here?” She pointed to a spot on the bookshelves where a lot of her titles were on display.
“Sure.” Alden and Roz stood.
“Let me help you out.” Roz pulled a real camera from her big purse, and Alden suppressed a chuckle. He didn’t need his phone after all. Roz was a good photographer in her own right, and as always, she came prepared.
She gently directed Enolia and moved around, hitting the shutter fast, getting close-up shots and wider views of the author with her shelves, the fireplace, and the art, taking advantage of the excellent light from the big windows.
Craig had whisked away the refreshments to discourage their lingering while Roz took her photos. She was done in less than ten minutes. Not overstaying their welcome was a good idea, because Alden had a feeling he’d want to talk with Enolia again and didn’t want to tick her off.
“Thanks so much for your time. I can’t wait to read the book,” Alden told her as Craig rematerialized, ready to escort them to the door.
“My pleasure,” Enolia said, giving off performer vibes again. Had they gotten the real Enolia at all today?
“Thank you,” Roz echoed, and they were out the door and heading to his snappy red car.
He took a moment to pull down the convertible’s soft-top roof so they could enjoy the pleasant evening as hints of sunset oranges and purples touched the sky. Roz pulled an elastic tie out of her bag and secured her hair once they got into the car.
Alden drove them up to the gate, which slowly slid aside. “What do you think?”
“I think I want to learn more about Wayne Vandershell. I feel like there’s a lot she didn’t tell us.”
“So do I.” Alden turned south on the beach road.
“Let’s process what we have and figure out where to go next. And I’ll ping Duke, too.”
“Oh, goody,” Alden said.
Roz laughed. “Want to get some dinner?”
“I saw you palm that half a cookie. That not enough for you?”
“Ha. I figure I’ll have it for breakfast. Those things are huge.”
“Not quite as thick as Enolia’s books, but close.” He glanced at her. “Seafood?”
“I see food. I eat it. That’s the problem.”
