Page 12 of Modern Persuasion

"A full week," Christi said as she counted the days on her fingers and took a deep breath. "He's going to hit bookstores and parties every night. They're doing a huge launch party with some of the big bookstores. It will be for celebrities only. His friends want to throw a party for him. All the local news shows are interviewing him. A library asked him to run a writing workshop for teens. They are connecting it to some National Novel Writing Month event. I thought that was in November, but they said July."

I nodded. "They do smaller writing events in April and July. They call it Camp NaNoWriMo."

"How do you know?"

"I pay attention to when people are writing. We've found amazing books through participants," I said with a sheepish smile.

Christi gave me a look that I thought was annoyance. I wanted to assume that she was simply irritated that I would be on the tour she had expected to lead, but there had been tension between us before her accident. I wanted to remind her that I was just as unhappy about this as she was, but I kept my mouth shut. It would only make this tension worse.

"Right. So, he agreed to run the workshop. Five days there and travel time. From there, you're on to Chicago because he went to college there. Then you return to New York City, and I should be well enough to take over so you can go on your vacation."

I instinctually grimaced. I had been so busy mentally preparing myself for Los Angeles that I hadn't prepared myself for Chicago, the city where we had been together. I could feel, in my stomach, the flutters of all my repressed emotions. There was no way I could stop them from coming to the surface, but I had to find a way to cope.

"What am I specifically responsible for?" I asked, hoping she would help me without knowing it.

"The publicist, his name is Patrick, is taking care of almost everything. Apparently, he works with big-name authors and actors. He knows his stuff. You're a glorified and expensive babysitter. All you have to be at are the bookstore signings. Your job is dealing with the books, so treat each city like you treat New York City signings."

"What's Louisa going to do? I don't really need her help," I said, aware that even Christi thought I was the book tour guru.

Christi fiddled with the TV remote, and I wondered if something was being kept from me. "Essentially, you are there to make sure the bookstores are happy. Louisa was helping me plan the tour, so she's spoken with managers to plan these events. She's going to make sure those people feel comfortable."

I narrowed my eyes. None of this made sense. Yes, Fredrick was a celebrity, but this level of support was unprecedented. "Why isn't Louisa going instead of me?"

Christi didn't look me in the eyes as she shrugged. Whatever the real reason, I wasn't going to get it from her.

Even though we would be in town for another three days, the tour officially kicked off Monday morning. I left Christi to start packing, stopping for supplies I knew I would need for the various events. Once I got home, I opened my closet, dropped to the floor, and spent an hour crying. Returning to New York after graduation had been difficult. I had compartmentalized my emotions over leaving Fredrick but focused on my father's needs and work. After the past few days, it was getting difficult to keep all these emotions locked away. I had to remember to keep them locked away until I was alone. I would probably have plenty of moments like this for the next month.

"You are the Queen of book tours," I said to my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I cleaned up. "Get into the game. He isn't your Freddy anymore. He's Fredrick Wentworth, who has never been on a book tour and has no idea what he has agreed to do. You will make him think it's effortless and keep him calm. Now, get your head out of your ass, pack what you need, and get ready to meet his team tomorrow morning. Who cares if his publicist knows what happened eight years ago. You are both professionals."

I couldn't help but notice that even my pep-talk had a mocking undertone. It was enough to help me focus, and I pulled out clothes, toiletries, and supplies. My shoes (many swiped from Elizabeth's extensive collection) filled one bag alone. I even pulled out the fancy dress I decided to wear to the New York Public Library's $1,000 a plate fundraiser party. I made a mental note to let Patrick know this was black-tie.

I was exhausted and starving by the time I finished preparations. I was rooting through my collection of take-out menus when the outside buzzer went off.

"Hello?"

"Emma! Come for a walk with us!" Louisa said through the intercom.

I buzzed them up, forgetting that Fredrick was with them.

"We brought Patrick along so you could meet him!" Louisa said to me when all five were stuffed inside the front room.

Mary and Tommy stood off to the side, and Fredrick glared at me. Standing next to him was a rail-thin brunette man about the same height as Fredrick. He wore thick rectangular glasses and had a square jaw.

"So, you are the infamous Emma Shaw," Patrick said, extending his hand to shake mine.

"Infamous?" I asked and raised an eyebrow.

I turned to Fredrick, but he gave nothing away. His eyes were busy looking around my apartment. My wall of bookcases was filled with books and knick-knacks. There were pictures of Mary and Tommy on their wedding day, my nephews, my parent's wedding, Karen and me when I graduated high school, and my favorite pictures of my mother. Actually, there were more pictures of my mother than anyone else. Mary loved my picture collection because there was only one of Elizabeth (actually one of three of us when we were little) and many of Mary and her family. She claimed it as a win.

"Christi called you the Queen of Book Tours," Patrick said.

"Right," I said and let out a sigh. I had been nervous about why I was so infamous.

"I'm here to just help in any way I can," Patrick said with a wink.

That wasn't how Christi made it out, but we didn't need to deal with that tonight.

"As long as you have tuxes!" I said, thinking I was making a joke.