William asking her to handle the city inspector meant he thought of her as more than just a girlfriend. “A girlfriend with a future,” she said, touching the door in a possessive sort of way.
Adele took the inspector into the kitchen and I took the opportunity to look around, curious to see how William lived. The living room did nothing to change my initial impression of him as very orderly and on the austere side.
I wandered toward the bedrooms. The smallest one was completely empty of furniture. There were just three pairs of the giant red shoes. He seemed to be using the next bedroom to sleep in, which was odd since it was clearly not the master bedroom.
I understood why when I got to the master. It was his writing studio. A computer sat in the middle of a glass desk. The walls were covered with framed book covers of his books and some awards he’d gotten, along with reviews. One whole wall was a bookcase. He had an interesting combination of children’s books and reference books. There were books on the history of dentistry, ciphers and codes, and an encyclopedia of animals. He had a whole set of different kinds of dictionaries and even a whole section devoted to myths, angels and fairies. I was surprised to find a copy of
A large table sat against the wall. I was just checking out what was on it when Adele stopped in the doorway.
“Pink, you shouldn’t be in here.”
I didn’t move and she glanced around the room from her vantage point as it came out that William had never allowed her in the room. “He calls it his man cave and said it was strictly private. The door is always closed.”
“It was open this time,” I said with a shrug. “It just looks like a workroom to me.” I said, laughing at the man cave name. It was so light and bright, calling it any kind of cave seemed ridiculous.
“You’re right.” She took a tentative step into the room. I guess she went along with the in-for-a-penny-in for-a-pound approach. Once she’d stepped into the room, she must have figured why not check everything out. She went to his desk first and picked up an electronic frame and watched as it flipped through the photos.
“None of me?” she said in a disappointed voice. “He probably just doesn’t have any.” She moved over to the table and did a double take when she saw its contents.
“What’s he doing with crochet hooks and yarn?” she said, touching the selection of hooks and yarn that were scattered across the table. I looked over Adele’s shoulder as she checked out a stack of books.
“This is one of mine,” Adele said, picking up the top book and waving it about. “William asked if he could borrow it for someone at his school.” She looked at the ones underneath. They were instructional volumes and had crochet patterns in them.
“Maybe William took your suggestion and is planning to do a
Adele set the book back down and looked over the things on the table. She seemed concerned when she saw a sheet of green paper on the floor.
“I guess this must have fallen out of the book he borrowed.” She scooped it up and waved the sheet in front of me. It had a drawing of something with squares and lots of notes all over it. “It’s just the notes I made about your neighbor’s afghan. I must have used it as a bookmark.” She appeared flustered—something I’d never seen before. “Did you happen to notice where it was in the book?” When I shrugged helplessly, she took a deep breath and stuck it in the middle. “William is very into details. I don’t want him to figure someone was in here.”
She looked around the room again. “I wonder why he’s being so secretive. I could write the crochet book with him.”
I didn’t want to say that might be the exact reason he was being secretive. I knew what it was like working with Adele. She seemed deep in thought as she moved around the room. She checked out the chair and books next to it. She looked at the bookcase and examined the titles and all of a sudden she screamed. “Pink, I know why he’s being so secretive.”
She had pulled out a book and held it for me to see. It was an old book with a dark worn binding. There was no dust jacket; instead, it had paper plate on the cover. In gothic-looking type was the title—
“Don’t you get it, Pink, he’s not writing an instructional book. Vampires and crochet research. William is A. J. Kowalski.” Adele’s excitement bubbled over into her jumping up and down. “It makes sense. He wouldn’t want to write the Anthony books under his own name because then people would expect them to be kids books.” She stopped jumping and put her hand on her hip. “You know people do that. Like Nora Roberts calls herself J. D. Robb when she writes mysteries.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room and shut the door behind us. “I’m A. J. Kowalski’s girlfriend,” she said, dropping my hand and letting it sink in. “Pink, we can’t tell anybody.” She said, “wow” a bunch of times and then grabbed my arm. “I have to make him one of those vampire scarves. Thank you, Pink. If you hadn’t been so nosey, I’d never have found out.”
Adele had a way with compliments.
CHAPTER 15
WE WENT BACK TO THE BOOKSTORE. MRS. SHEDD was with a customer, and as soon as they left, her smile faded. I took the opportunity to tell her the latest developments in the Bradley Perkins situation. Mostly I wanted to tell her about the SEC people not knowing who all the investors were. I suggested she might want to let them know she belonged on the list. I couldn’t tell if she planned to or not.
The store was bustling with customers, many of whom seemed as if they needed assistance. Day off or not, I stowed my purse and went to help out. Mrs. Shedd looked over and her eyes softened and she mouthed a thank- you.
There was a lull later in the afternoon and I slipped back to the yarn department. I managed to complete one crocheted swatch. I really got the point of the swatches when I looked at the finished little piece. The ball of yarn was pretty with its shades of blue and purple, but nothing compared to how the yarn looked when it was crocheted. The swatches were going to help sell a lot of yarn—if I ever got them finished.
There was a surge of business in the late afternoon and I went back to waiting on customers. When I finally left I was determined to work on snowflakes all evening to add to the stock. I promised myself I’d only do a couple of rounds on the owl. I loved the sparkling white yarn I’d chosen to use instead of the plain white in the pattern. Our last holiday event before the launch party was coming up and we all agreed the snowflakes needed to be hung by then. I pushed away any thoughts that it might be our last bookstore holiday event altogether. It was too sad to consider.
People always thought of Southern California as being warm in the winter, and maybe compared to the Midwest it was. However, the Valley occasionally got frost in the middle of the night. It wasn’t enough to kill anything but the most fragile of flowers, but the grass and leaves on the orange trees would have bits of ice in the morning. It felt like it was going to be one of those nights when I walked outside. There was a sharpness to the cold and it cut right through my fleece hoodie. The days were almost at their shortest and it had already been dark for so long it felt very late, though it was only seven. Before I turned into my driveway, the car’s headlights washed over the tall gangly figure of Ryder. He was sitting on the curb. His face was illuminated by the bluish glow that came off his video camera as he watched something he’d taped.
I pulled in quickly and hit the brakes, making the car squeak to a stop. I cut the motor and jumped out of the car and marched toward him. Something in the way I was walking must have scared him because he stood up quickly and took a defensive pose. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I had a bit of the crazy-lady thing going by then.
“What’s up, M?” he said.
“I’ll tell you what’s up,” I said, getting so close to him, he stumbled back. “I know you are all focused on your career in journalism or reality TV or being the YouTube king and you probably think the ends justify the means and all that trash talk. But you sneak in my house one more time and throw everything around, and I’m giving you up to the cops.”
“W-what?” he stammered. “Why would I be sneaking in your house?”
