Crossing the street, we strolled up to The Last Word, where a few groups of readerly types were gathering, chatting about whether softcovers or hardcovers were superior and comparing their home-made bookbags.
‘She wanted the Wi-Fi again,’ explained Lara. ‘Apparently there’s been magical interference messing with the signal at Rosie’s. Then she got chatting with the B&B owner about bottom lines and processes and procedures or something. I tried to steer the conversation to fun stuff, like a fun PR campaign involving an Instagrammable flower wall, but they went straight back to KPIs. This is why we need fun people like you on the team. Hint, hint.’
I sighed.
‘I’m still thinking about it. There’s Tiff,’ I added, relieved to be able to change the subject. ‘Wait, why does she look like Cinderella?’
Tiff ordinarily dressed neatly yet stylishly. She had the same fascination with structured outfits that Mom did, and if it didn’t have darts or a cinched waist, she refused to abide it. Today, however, she was in a floaty dress with thin straps, a loose cardigan draped over her shoulders for when the evening chill set in. And with the sun drifting down over the water, that wasn’t far off.
Tiff was on the phone as usual, but rang off as she came trotting over, her kitten heels clacking.
‘Who is this stunning specimen and what did she do with my sister?’ I teased.
‘What?’ Tiff muttered, ducking my gaze. ‘I spilled tea on my shirt, so I borrowed something of Lara’s.’
‘You certainly did,’ said Lara appreciatively. ‘That dress has a new lease on life.’
‘Damien’s going to love it,’ I said carefully, trying to keep the judgement out of my voice. Tiff had a right to dress up, didn’t she?
It wasn’t like I could talk. I was torn between two brothers, and with every day that passed I was feeling more confused, and more guilty. Not to mention more worried that I was single-handedly ushering in a thunderstorm for the ages.
‘Are we going in, girls?’ Lara looped her arms through ours and walked us up the steps to The Last Word. A few readers were already gathered about, sipping on cardamom-spice hot chocolates and picking their way through the maze-like stacks. Leon had cleared away some of the more invasive piles so that there was room to hover, and had set up a few folding chairs for those that preferred to sit.
Pizza boxes from Pie in the Wall were carefully arranged over some large folio stacks, which were draped with a tablecloth to avoid the oil soaking through. Chester the bookshop cat was eyeing them hungrily.
A curly-haired man dressed in head-to-toe olive green was propping a selection of architectural photos against the backwall – there were plenty of fountains and cathedral ceilings on display. He positively vibrated with anxiety, and kept throwing nervous glances over his shoulder as he looked to see how many seats had been filled.Definitely the author, I thought to myself.
I tried to shoot him a reassuring smile, but he cringed as though I’d left a one-star review of his book in sky writing.
‘Weird dude,’ whispered Lara.
‘All authors are weird,’ whispered Tiff. ‘It’s part of the whole mystique.’
‘Hey, Molly!’ said Keiko, popping up behind me. She was radiant in an orange-and-yellow tie-dyed dress. Soraya was with her, but without Ernie in tow – he was probably being watched by Nicola, who must be flush with babysitting money this time of year.
I gave both Soraya and Keiko a hug, commenting on Soraya’s chunky beaded necklace and Keiko’s vibrant dress.
‘We did tie-dye at camp yesterday,’ she said, twirling to show it off. ‘Noah didn’t show you the shirt the kids made him? He should. He’s a vision in it. Speak of the devil.’
I turned to see Noah hovering by the bookshop door, hands thrust in his pockets and a get-me-out-of-here look on his face. Alas, he wasn’t in the tie-dye shirt that Keiko had talked up. But his plain black T-shirt and jeans did fit distractingly well.
‘Molly,’ he said. ‘I take it you hit send on the article?’
‘I mean, I hit send onsomething,’ I said, grimacing. A Pulitzer Prize-winner it was not.
Beside me, Tiff lit up with excitement. Trying to keep my expression neutral, I stepped aside to allow Leon to join our knot of booklovers. Leon looked bookishly handsome as usual, and tonight was wearing a knitted cardigan over a T-shirt with aThe Thinggraphic on it.
‘Thanks for coming,’ he said in his low voice. The greeting was directed to all of us, although I couldn’t help but notice his bespectacled gaze lingered on Tiff.
Flushing, Tiff fiddled with a shoulder strap on her dress.
‘Vero will be getting started soon,’ he added. ‘Until then, we have pizza and drinks, and you can take a seat wherever there’s room. Or lean. The book stacks are structurally sound. You can browse, also. My dream is that one day I’ll be able to see the floor.’
‘We’re going to go browse,’ Lara said, indicating Noah and me. She nudged Tiff closer to Leon. ‘You two talk among yourselves, and we’ll be back in time for the reading or the hotel reviews or whatever.’
‘We’ll be doing a readingandreviews,’ said Vero, his voice cracking slightly. He mopped his brow with a palm-tree-patterned handkerchief.
‘Leon, can I ask you something?’ asked Tiff. She pulled Leon aside, and the two of them launched into a murmured conversation.
