To:Addie
I hope it’s going well.
Toni
Out-of-office emails were not the response she expected, but Toni decided that she’d respect whatever logic Addie had in not replying. She considered texting, but she’d been the first to email after their night-that-was-not-a-date, and since she was the one who insisted that they weren’t going to date, texting too seemed like the wrong move.
Friends text, though, right?
Toni considered it. Often.Her silence is for the best.Getting attached to Addie would only complicate whatever friendship they had. If Emily sent an out-of-office, Toni wouldn’t text her unless it was urgent, and missing someone wasn’t an actual emergency.
If not for knowing that she’d see her at Cape Dove, Toni would likely be more anxious.
The next two months also passed without a single word from Addie, and Toni was both relieved that Addie wasn’t being clingy and maybe more than a little let down that Addie hadn’t even texted. Toni missed their email exchanges, but she wasn’t going to be a hypocrite and demand replies. It was odd, though. Addie had always replied promptly. Toni, admittedly, had not.
But there was neither a text nor an email from Addie.
Not when Emily sent the flowers the day Toni left LA.
Not when Toni sent flowers again on the day the cast was announced.
The announcement of the cast was exciting, and the increased buzz about the book meant thatThe Whitechapel Widowreturned to theNew York TimesandUSA Todaybestseller lists.
No texts or emails then, either.
Translation-rights sales kept pouring in, and Toni was starting to admit that maybe she really was an author—especially now that the sequel was zipping along.
Because of Addie’s influence.
Toni glanced down at the glossy ad for the show. Like the rest of the promo Toni had seen, Addie was front and center in this one. Her secretive smile vied with her loose fall of hair. The Victorianist in Toni grumbled that her loose hair was historically inaccurate for a well-respected lady. The part of Toni who mightmissAddie lately simply thought she was a vision of loveliness.
Today was not the time for that thought, though. Emily had called to ease the anxiety that was currently washing over Toni.
“I don’t understand, Em.” Toni clutched the damnable letter in her hand. “I genuinely would like to visit Cape Dove Manor, but asme…not as an author. Why can’t I skip this? Maybe I could just go up for the day.”
“First, youarethe author,” Emily said. It was like a refrain with her.
“Sure but—”
“You are the author of the bestselling book that just got selected as a book-club pick by a famous actor.” Emily sounded patient. “The bestselling book with the upcoming show. They want you there because of all of that. You dodged the proposed book launch event there, and I’ve told yourepeatedlythat this event was required.”
Honestly, Emily’s soothing tone made Toni relax enough to exhale a little, but she still objected. “I’m not good at peopling, especially on my own.”
“Many authors aren’t.” Emily sighed in that way that made Toni feel a flash of guilt. Then she added, “You’re charismatic, Toni. I’ve seen you lecture and, before that, watched you hook up at almost every bar like it’s an art.”
“Right… That’s different.” Toni stared at the foil type on the ornate invitation as she paced her living room.
The room was now the sort of space built around the idea of relaxation, stress-reduction, and comfort. Aside from the Jeep, Toni had been exceedingly frugal. She had bought a few new clothes for her increasingly frequent events, and she’d had a decorator do some magic on her home. It was also her writing office and her cave to hide away from her job.
Most of the cash she’d received went to paying off debt, paying for her mom’s care, and into a few accounts—one for parsing out now and one retirement account to pay for her own possible memory care one day. Publishing paid on a very weird schedule.The Whitechapel Widow,the North American sale, was divided into signing, delivery, hardcover print, paperback reprint. The sequel was all of that, plus a portion on synopsis. So she’d received two hundred thousand dollars for signing the contract—one hundred thousand per book—as well as delivery and print for Book One. Four hundred thousand dollars so far, not counting foreign or film rights.
And maybe that will be the end.There was no way to know. Some authors flopped after the first book.I could be one of them.
The money had paid off her mother’s debts and the year’s memory care for Lilian, with money left over for some clothes for Toni’s events and the Jeep. She felt guilty spending it, but… Emily had reminded her that there was more to come even without film and foreign rights. She still had checks for paperback and on acceptance of the second book.
And if that’s the end, it’s enough. I only wanted enough to pay off Lil’s debt.
Toni felt guilty for even considering wanting more, as if the ghost of her father was rising up to whisper to her that she ought to try to make one more good bet.
