Arlington would be proud. “Thanks. I’d love to come in.” She stepped inside, forcing Mitch to move out of the way. “So, you were writing?”
“I was.” He looked a little bewildered, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened.
“Excellent. I’m Harper Calhoun, by the way.” She stuck her hand out. “We haven’t formally met.”
“Right. Mitch Ripley. As I guess you know.” He shook her hand, looking surprised. Harper guessed he wasn’t used to physical contact. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee would be great.”
He headed up the steps without another word.
She followed him. The house was beautifully decorated in a sparse, Craftsman style. Lots of wood and clean lines, blues and greens and copper, stained-glass lamps, but all the modern amenities, too, of course.
The kitchen was surprisingly pretty. The appliances were retro-styled and done in a soft, buttery yellow enamel that brightened up the area and gave it real charm. She could imagine Joyce cooking away in here. It was a great space.
“I love your house,” Harper said. “Almost feels like a cabin in the woods. A really nice cabin with ocean views.”
He smiled briefly. “My wife’s influence. She was from Oregon and loved that kind of look.”
“She did a great job.”
“Thank you.” He got two mugs down from a cabinet and filled them with coffee, which emptied the pot. “How do you take yours?”
“I’m from California, so fake sugar and fake creamer, but I can drink it black in a pinch.”
“I have regular milk and regular sugar.”
“Black is fine.” She took a seat at the counter, even though he hadn’t offered. She’d only stay until the coffee was gone. Or Joyce returned. Or Mitch threw her out.
One of those was bound to happen soon.
He put a mug in front of her then leaned against the stove. “How did you come to be in Arlington’s house?”
“He left it to me in his will.” She shook her head. “Crazy, right? I never in a million years guessed he’d do something like that. He was an amazing human being. Too generous, maybe, but…” She shrugged and sipped the coffee. Even black, it was good. Obviously, not the cheap stuff.
Mitch stared off at nothing. “He was a great man and a good friend. One of the best people I’ve ever known.”
“I can’t imagine anyone else as the Doomsday Oracle. It was like you wrote that character specifically for him. He embodied that role. Really brought him to life. And when the Oracle—” She laughed. “Sorry, I just said I wasn’t going to fangirl all over you and yet here I am, talking about the books.”
“It’s okay.” His gaze moved to his cup. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, he looked sad. Maybe a little lost, too. “Arlington was perfect for that part. I didn’t write it for him, but I think, subconsciously, I envisioned him when I created that character.”
Since he’d kept the conversation about his books going, she dove in. “What are you working on now, if I’m allowed to ask?”
His head came up quickly. “I don’t like to talk about work in progress.”
“Right, sure, totally get that. And I do not want to stand in the way of Charlie Nightingale getting her new story.” Harper smiled. “I am so looking forward to her meeting with the ogre king.”
His brow furrowed. “The ogre king?”
Harper nodded. “In the book before the last one, it was revealed that the ogre king wanted to speak to Charlie, possibly about working for him.” Did he not remember his own books? “There were hints that he was going to hire Charlie to track down his long-lost daughter.”
Mitch stared at her blankly, then suddenly nodded and stopped leaning. “Right. The ogre king. His missing daughter.”
Amused, Harper had to ask, “Did you forget about that?”
He rubbed his forehead and went back to leaning. “I hate to admit it, but yes, I did. The last few years have been…difficult.”
She felt for him. “I can imagine. I know you lost your wife.”
