While they lingered over the meal, Lance couldn’t shake the thought that Nana Jo’s ranch held the potential for so much more than just a haven for herself and her horses, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the future might hold for this picturesque mountain retreat.
CHAPTER 21
Poppy Rivers proved to be the best choice for the first library meet and greet. There was a line out the door of high school students, copies of her most recent novel,Faux Pas Flirt, tucked under their arms or weighing down their hands.
Sarah had scheduled the signing for three-thirty, which gave the attendees—most of them teenagers—ample time to make their way over right after dismissal from school. They arrived with big smiles and eager anticipation as they filtered through the doors to get the autograph of their favorite young adult author.
A handful of the other writers from the retreat joined the event, while most opted to stay back at the Inn to continue working on their rough drafts. There were no hard and fast rules when it came to the retreat. That was by design. Sarah wanted her guests to have the freedom to pick and choose the activities they would participate in, without the fear of missing out or feeling pressured.
“I don’t think we’ve had this many young people in the library since Clara Cardin’s book came out over five years ago. And that was only because of all the drama surrounding her andthat no-name celebrity,” Dahlia murmured to Sarah with a wave of her hand. They stood just off to the side of Poppy’s table, overseeing the flow of the line and funneling guests toward the checkout where they were encouraged to sign up for a library card if they didn’t already have one. Everything was streamlined, and so far, running smoothly.
“I really hoped Poppy would bring the teenagers in.” It was a section of the population that rarely visited the library, and Sarah knew if they could capture new readers at this age, it would impact the library’s engagement with the community. A win-win all around.
“I think it’s fair to sayyou’rethe one who brought them in. I just spoke with Mr. Jennings, the AP English teacher at the high school, and he said you reached out to advertise in the school’s bulletin. And that youalsoencouraged teachers to go light on homework tonight so more students would be able to attend.”
Both of those things were true, along with a little creative online promotion, but Sarah didn’t want to toot her own horn.
“The worst thing would be for an author to have a signing,” Sarah began, “and for no one to show up.” It wasn’t a scenario she even wanted to imagine.
“It wouldn’t be theworstthing.” Dahlia waggled her shoulders, chuckling. “But I agree, it wouldn’t be ideal. I’m going to check on Jordan at the front and see if he needs any help issuing cards since it looks like most of these kids are signing up for them. Keep up the good work over here, Hart.”
Sarah waited until her boss left before blowing out a big breath of relief. It truly had been one success after another. Last night, everyone who attended the floral arrangement workshop went home with a spectacular bouquet in their hands and a smile on their face. Breakfast that morning had been filled with lively conversations and the budding friendships that Sarah hadhoped for. Everything far exceeded her expectations and then some.
She folded her hands in front of her, taking in the scene.
Poppy was a rockstar. Every reader that stepped up to her table was greeted with genuine interest. She took several minutes with each person—one of the reasons the line remained so long—but no one appeared bothered by the wait. If anything, it only made them more eager for their turn with the writer. She took selfies, signed her name with a flourish, and personalized every conversation.
There was a stack of her novels next to her on the table, the yellow, red, and deep purple from the illustrated cover mirrored in the lovely bouquet placed on the other side. Even her skirt and fun argyle sweater pulled similar colors from the book. It all just worked.
It took an hour longer than Sarah had allotted for time, but by five-thirty, all books were signed. Now came the reading.
Initially, Sarah had panicked with each minute that passed where they were not in sync with the schedule. But no one complained, and no one appeared to leave, either. Rather, the teens used the time to peruse the bookshelves of the library, some even admitting that it was their first time ever setting foot in it. The checkout line was long, the stacks of borrowed books high. They sold a record number of tote bags bearing the library’s logo, something Sarah hadn’t anticipated but was absolutely pleased with.
When the moment finally came for Poppy to read an excerpt from her novel, Sarah raised her voice and called the crowd back to the young adult section where they had set up several rows of chairs in a semi-circle around the author. It proved to be nowhere near enough, with standing room only by the time Poppy cracked open her book and started in.
It was a coming-of-age story about two teens that met at summer camp, only to start school the following year and realize they were in one another’s grade, but not social circles. There was romance and angst and found family—all of the elements that made for an engaging and binge-worthy book.
Poppy took questions from the audience at the end of the reading. More hands shot into the air than Sarah could count. There were many budding authors in attendance, something that sparked yet another idea, one Sarah would have to explore later when she had the bandwidth and the time.
It was close to seven when the library finally shut its doors behind the last of the stragglers, one hour after their typical closing time.
“Are you exhausted?” Sarah asked Poppy as they collected her things from the table and folded the cloth that had draped over it into a neat square.
“Are you kidding me? This is the stuff that fuels me. Engaging with my readers is totally my jam.”
They made quick work of breaking down the table and stacking the chairs, putting the library back in order, the way it was prior to the event.
A half an hour later, they were back at the Inn for the group dinner where those who’d stayed back anxiously awaited news about the first signing of the retreat.
Poppy relayed the day’s events, something Sarah was thankful for. She knew if she was the one conveying the success it wouldn’t be nearly as genuine. Over a cheesy lasagna, Caesar salad, and slices of crusty garlic bread, the group communed, one conversation effortlessly flowing into the next.
When Sarah later moved around the table to collect plates for the dishwasher, she leaned toward Ralph and said, “We’ve got things all set for your signing tomorrow at ten. Are you ready for it?”
He swiped a napkin over his mouth and stretched back from the table with a grunt to look up at her. “I thought I was, but now I feel like I have to live up to Poppy’s numbers. Can’t say I’m not a little intimidated by that.”
“Success looks different for all of us,” Sarah assured. She balanced the stack of dishes in one hand and cuffed his shoulder with the other. “I’m confident you’re going to draw a crowd. Don’t you worry about that.”
It was almost nine when all of the authors had finally retreated to their rooms, many hoping to clock in more words for the day before they called it a night.
