“Fiona? Is everything okay?”
“Uncle Jon, it’s me! Amelia Mae!” she whisper-hisses. “You’re not kidnapped! Wait—you probably can’t tell me if you are. Say ‘pepperoni’ if you’re not safe, okay?”
I can’t hear him anymore, but her smile tells me that he’s all right. “Phew! I was worried you were tied to a bed and some lunatic was making you write another book.” She nods. “Yeah, I know it sounds likeMisery.That’s where I got the idea! Oh, Uncle Jon, you worry too much. It’s just a book! But seriously, where did you go, and why didn’t you tell us you were leaving? And what happened with Vik? Are you two fighting?”
The doorknob rattles, and suddenly Fiona’s standing over us. Before I can warn Amelia Mae, Fiona grabs the phone out of her hand.
“Mo-om!” she protests, but Fiona’s already lifted the phone to her head.
“Hello?” she says. Her eyes narrow. “Yes, I told her you were fine. Repeatedly. But given that I was clearly upset and couldn’t say where you were, she was bound to pick up on the fact that something was wrong. Yes, I know. Iknow.” Fiona sighs and gestures for Amelia Mae to vacate the closet. She hangs her head and complies, as doI.
Fiona’s still holding the phone to her ear when we join herin the hallway, but she’s looking at Miguel now. “Since I finally have you on the phone, do you want to tell me where you are and why you didn’t show up to the reading at Lakeside Books?” she says to Jonathan. “I’m actually with the bookseller now, trying to smooth this over. You standing him up has put them in a bad financial situation. Yes…” She flashes a closed-lip smile at Miguel. “I understand, but this is not the end of our conversation, Jon. You can’t just—” She stops abruptly and listens to whatever he’s saying. Then she hands the phone to Miguel. “It’s for you. It’s on speaker.”
Miguel’s standing at attention now. Truly, I haven’t seen him this alert since he nearly got us both flattened by a car walking across an intersection a few weeks ago. “Jonathan? This is Miguel Rivera. I was really hoping we could reschedule your event at my bookstore. Maybe we could put something on the books while I have you?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it,” says Jonathan. But he doesn’t sound sorry; he sounds grumpy. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m done doing events.”
“I understand your desire to avoid the public—believe me, I do—but you don’t strike me as someone who would promise something as big as a ticketed signing and then suddenly back out. And Fiona, as you can hear, has been far more generous about this than I would have been if I were in her shoes,” he says, staring at her. “Now, this event would make a huge difference to Lakeside. In fact, if I have to refund the tickets, I won’t be able to pay my employees next month and may end up closing the store. So, can we schedule a rain check for the end of August, maybe September at latest? I’ll take any day you’re able to come in.”
“No.”
Miguel yanks his head away from the phone like Jonathan has just reached through it and slapped him. “What? You’re kidding, right? Yousaidyou would. You offered to do this. Fiona told me that supporting small bookstores is important to you.”
“It is. Fiona, please write him a check.”
“I offered that already, Jon,” she says into the receiver.
Did she? They must have discussed that while Amelia Mae was reading tome.
“This is about more than just the money,” says Miguel. “I’ve squandered our goodwill with our customers—people are angry that there’s no rain date. Theyexpectedto meet you. And we were hoping that your coming into the store would help boost our sales by putting Lakeside on the map.”
“I’m truly sorry that your plans aren’t working out, but I’m sure this isn’t the first nor the last time life will disappoint you or your customers.” In a softer tone, he adds, “Amelia, love, are you there?”
She’s leaning against the wall and rubbing a strand of hair between her fingers, suddenly looking less like a shrunken adult and more like the child that she is. “I’m here, Uncle Jon,” she says quietly.
“I’m really sorry I worried you. No one kidnapped me, and I’m already looking forward to seeing you again soon. I’m just going to travel awhile longer before I come home. Think you can hold down the fort?”
“Sure,” says Amelia Mae in the quietest voice I’ve ever heard her use. “I was just worried because…I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re okay. But Uncle Jon?”
“Yes, kiddo?”
“Whereareyou?”
I can hear him sigh through the phone. “I’m in Copenhagen. That’s in Europe.”
Miguel’s eyes bulge, probably because that’s the city where a lot ofMissing Persontakes place, too.
“Will you do me a favor and take care of your mom until I get back?”
She nods solemnly. “Okay.”
“Thanks, love. I love you. Now, everyone, please excuse me. It’s the middle of the night here and I’m going back to bed.”
And with that, the phone goes silent.
Fiona’s face has just shifted through nearly every feeling I can identify in a matter of seconds, but Miguel’s expression is unreadable. “I’m so sorry,” she tells him. “Let me at least write you that check. You can just take it with you in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” he says, and for whatever reason, this makes her crack a tiny smile. “I can’t accept money from you when this isn’t your fault. But even if your brother himself was handing me a stack of cash, I can’t take funds for an event that never happened. I shouldn’t have counted on it in the first place, and that’s on me. Anyway, Harold and I should be going. Thanks for the wine.”
