I stood and held up a hand. She spotted me right away and headed my direction.
“I’m Meredith,” she said.
We shook hands. “Seraphina. It’s nice to meet you.”
She was dressed in a blue suit with a white blouse. I glanced at her feet. People’s shoes often told me a lot about a person. They were a no-nonsense pair of loafers, probably comfortable.
She set her leather bag on the table and left me to get a cup of coffee. While she did so, I observed her from the table. She was pleasant to the clerk but not friendly like people were in Willet Cove. After ordering a double latte, she stepped to the side. Her gaze darted around the coffee shop, seeming to take it all in. A writer always looked at the details of a place. And people. What would she see about me?
The photographs of historic Willet Cove displayed on the wall drew her attention. Her head tilted as she looked at the one of the first schoolhouse, its eleven students posing with their teacher for the camera. Recently, that same photo had intrigued Robbie. Esme told me he’d nearly driven our poor librarian to drink with his relentless research into who they were.
When her coffee was ready, she returned to me. “What a beautiful place you live in.”
“Thank you. We love it here.”
She settled across from me. “I can detect a slight southern accent. Alabama?”
“That’s right. I grew up in Mobile.”
She pulled a notebook and pen out of her leather bag, in addition to a small recording device.
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” Meredith asked. “It’s helpful for me later, when I’m writing, to revisit the interview. That way, I quote you correctly.”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Thank you. And thank you for agreeing to talk with me. Brooke tells me you’re surreptitiously private.” She switched on the recorder, then met my gaze. Her eyes were a pale blue, with short, stubby eyelashes. “I’d like to start by talking about your career.”
I drew in a breath. “Sure. Ask me anything.”
“Great. Tell me about your publishing journey. Take me back to the beginning.”
For the next twenty minutes, I told her about the years of rejection and then the happy day when I was offered a three-book deal. How proud my dad had been. How exciting it was to see my books on the shelves of our favorite bookstore in Mobile.
It was actually kind of fun to talk about myself. For her part, she listened carefully, occasionally jotting something down in her notebook.
“And now you have a Netflix adaptation. Tell me about that. I can only imagine how exciting it is.”
I nodded, smiling at the memory of the phone call from my agent telling me the news. “It still feels like a dream. I was surprised they were interested in a series set in a small town in the south about three sisters looking for love.”
“Why did that surprise you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because The Bellflower Girls is about women. And their romances. Not very vogue these days. It seems guns and cops are the only thing on television.”
“And it premieres this week.”
“Friday night. I’m taking my village with me to L.A. for the screening and party.”
“Your village?”
“My four best friends and their kids,” I said. “And of course my son will be with me.”
“Will Hunter Sloan be your date?”
The shift startled me. It was sneaky, the way she just slid right in there. Almost like stealing a base.
“He will, yes,” I said.
“Dana King’s book has been quite the sensation,” Meredith said. “Has it been hard—starting a new relationship while his ex-wife releases a tell-all?”
