The man was exceptionally tan, probably artificially so when Roz compared him with Sheryl. He had a long, slender nose and distinct cheekbones, and his perfect teeth matched the white open-collar shirt he wore under an expensive-looking umber sport coat over slouchy khakis. His posh brown leather sneakers probably cost as much as all of Roz’s shoes put together. His brown hair just brushed his shoulders, a bit wavy. He was polished in a way few locals were, but if he was famous, Roz didn’t recognize him.
“Wayne!” Sheryl called out.
The man grinned and walked over, kissing Sheryl on both cheeks. French, Hollywood, pretentious, or all three, Roz judged.
He took both of Sheryl’s hands. “You look wonderful, darling. Has she arrived yet?”
“We think she’s hiding.” Sheryl wore a bashful expression as he released her.
Wayne had turned toward Roz at the mention of “we.” “Wayne Vandershell.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. His grip was firm and deliberate as he subtly scanned her budget casual outfit of jeans and a green knit shirt. His smile never faltered. “And you are?”
“Roz Melander.” She didn’t see a need to mention her job at the paper yet. After all, theoretically, she had the day off.
“Roz. I’m delighted to meet you.”
Roz, always a little guarded around new people, found herself thawing under the warmth of his charm. Maybe his enthusiasm wasn’t an act, even if his tan was.
“Roz is a brilliant writer.” Sheryl gave him a meaningful glance, and Wayne’s eyes widened.
“Is that right?” he asked. “What do you write?”
“Scintillating summaries of city council meetings, mostly,” Roz replied. “I work for The Courier-Beacon.”
Wayne blinked. “Really? No novels or screenplays in the offing like Sheryl here?”
Roz couldn’t help chuckling. “Fiction’s not my passion.” But Sheryl? That was interesting. “You might want to talk to my colleague Alden. He’s the one with all the imaginative ideas.”
“You’ll have to introduce me.” Wayne scanned the room, then looked at Sheryl. “I need to make the rounds, my love, and have a quick smoke. And, of course, I need to talk to Enolia.” He winked. “Save me a seat.”
“Will do.” Sheryl, the steady woman of the outdoors, fluttered her eyelashes like a debutante at her first ball as Wayne scurried off.
“So, Wayne, huh?” Roz asked.
Sheryl ran her finger over the shiny cover of the book she’d been perusing earlier, tracing the outline of a sword surrounded by roses. “He’s nice. He wants to make my screenplay into a movie.”
Now Roz really was surprised. She’d edited Sheryl’s columns on occasion. Her facts were outstanding. The prose? Not so much. She must rock at dialogue. “That’s pretty amazing. Is he a director?”
“Producer. He’s putting down roots here. Listen, I’d better go get our seats.”
“No problem. Have fun,” Roz said.
She looked around, spotting dark-haired Liani Reyes, who ran Lunaria Lodge with her husband, and strawberry-blond April Reins, who owned a horse stable on the south side of town. And yes, April’s career was proof that naming was destiny. Or perhaps she adopted her moniker back when she used to do horse stunts for a traveling circus.
They were chatting with a harried-looking blond woman in her mid-thirties who held a toddler and kept half an eye on two kids in the children’s section. The little boy and girl had used a scarf to tie a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh to a chair and were subjecting the bear to an intense interrogation.
Roz snorted and walked over to say hi to the grown-ups.
After the hellos, Liani did the honors. “Roz, this is Nicole Esquivel. You may have run into her husband, Sebastian?”
She’d certainly heard of him. Sebastian was a land developer and part of the Esquivel family, which mostly kept to itself. It also controlled a lot of land here in Mosquito County and had donated a huge tract to Comet Cove that was now a wildlife refuge.
“It’s great to meet you,” Roz said. “Are you a big fan?”
“I love Enolia Honeywood’s books! Sometimes they’re all that keep me sane. Mateo!” Nicole called out. “You and Gabriela untie that bear!” She turned back to the women. “Sorry I’m so distracted. I couldn’t get a sitter, and I really wanted to be here. Though my husband should’ve picked them up by now.”
“No problem.” April seemed amused.
“And who’s this little guy?” Roz asked of the munchkin in Nicole’s arms, who drooled as he chewed on a Guardians of the Galaxy action figure.
