“Ready for another great idea?” Spence’s lips twitched with humor. “Run the Cobbler Crawl with me.”
The man was relentless. I responded to his winning smile with a chiding look. “For the fourth time, no, I will not.”
The Peach Coast Cobbler Crawl was an annual three-and-a-half-mile race to raise money for the local hospital. Each two-member team had to stop and eat a large, heaping spoonful of peach cobbler at the one-, two-, and three-mile points. The first team to cross the finish line together won.
“I can’t enter the Cobbler Crawl without a running partner.” Spence had been trying to convince me to form a team with him almost since the day we’d met.
I was running out of ways to say no. “Why don’t we both just give a donation and watch the event from the sidelines?”
Jo laughed. “You should do it, Marvey. You run six miles every day. Three and a half miles will feel like nothing.”
Now they were ganging up on me. “If we only had to run, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I don’t think I can run and keep down the cobbler.” I shuddered to think of the consequences.
Zelda came out of her spell, dragging her attention from my pendant. “I’m the exact opposite. I could eat the cobbler, no problem. But I couldn’t run a mile in a month of Sundays.”
Determined to change the subject, I turned to Zelda. “How many members of the Coastal Fiction Writers are published?”
“We’re a small group, but we’re growing. At the moment, there are twelve of us. Four of our members are published.”
“Five.” Jo lifted the requisite number of fingers. “I ordered books for five members. I think you’re missing Fiona.” She addressed Spence and me. “Fiona Lyle-Hayes just released her first book, In Death Do We Part. It’s a mystery, and it’s gotten great advance reviews.”
Spence sent me a look before switching his attention to our companions. I could tell he wasn’t giving up on the Cobbler Crawl. “We ran a piece about her book in the Crier.”
“Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten Fiona?” Zelda clutched her pearl necklace. Her smile seemed fake. That was curious.
“Fiona helped coordinate the signing.” Jo glanced at her employees who were setting out the books before returning her attention to Spence and me. “She’s also the writing group’s treasurer.”
“Yes, Fiona manages our money. She’s good at that.” Zelda flashed another tight smile, then looked away. Tension was rolling off her in waves. I really hoped it didn’t bubble over and ruin Jo’s event.
I glanced toward the entrance again to see more of our book club members arriving, as well as quite a few strangers—each one a potential new library cardholder. Four of the newcomers made a beeline for Jo, who identified them as the local authors who were signing today. I concentrated on the introductions, but keeping names and connections straight strained my brain. Of course, Spence knew all of them. I resolved to stick to him like gum on his shoe.
The authors dressed up their displays with promotional postcards and trinkets. Jo’s employees put the finishing touches on the arrangements, which included the bowls of the long-promised-but-seemingly-forgotten chocolate-covered pecan clusters. Jo and I had only been friends for four months, but I’d known she wouldn’t let me down. I began drifting toward the signing area—and the chocolates—when Jo’s voice stopped me.
“I wonder what’s taking Fiona so long?” Jo checked her silver-and-orange wristwatch. A frown cast a shadow over her round face. “The signing starts in ten minutes. I thought she’d have her books out long before now.”
Zelda scanned the store. “Fiona left our writers’ meeting early, saying she needed to get ready. Where is she?”
Jo jerked her head toward the back of the store, sending her ponytail swinging. “She’s been in the storage room. She wanted to examine her books and bring them out herself.”
Weird. “Why?”
Jo shrugged nonchalantly, but I saw the aggravation in her eyes. “She didn’t say, but I suspect it’s because she thought my staff and I would damage her books.”
Zelda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Fiona can be a pain in the tush. Bless her heart.”
Bless her heart. That was a Southern phrase I’d heard before. It didn’t mean anything good.
Chapter 2
While I hung out with Spence and Zelda, Jo checked on the authors who’d taken their seats on time.
Spence’s voice drew my attention from the bowls of chocolate. “Nolan, I’d wondered if you’d make it to Fiona’s first signing.”
Nolan was a few inches shorter than Spence—perhaps an even six feet—and fit. Despite his graying close-cropped brown hair and tired brown eyes, he seemed youthful. It could’ve been the casual clothes he wore: powder green jersey, dark blue jeans, and blue sneakers. That’s right, sneakers.
Southerners—and admittedly, much of the rest of the country—referred to “sneakers” as “tennis shoes,” but that felt wrong to me. Not all sneakers were tennis shoes. Some were running shoes or cross trainers. To me, it was like referring to all carbonated soft drinks as “Coke.” Yes, Georgia was home to The Coca-Cola Company, but New Yorkers called it “soda.” You could take the woman out of Brooklyn, but you couldn’t take Brooklyn out of the woman.
Spence made the introductions. “Nolan Duggan, I’d like for you to meet Marvella Harris. Nolan’s the co-owner of Lyle and Duggan CPA, along with Fiona. Marvey is the director of community engagement with the Peach Coast Library.”
Nolan regarded me with an odd combination of welcome and wariness. “I read the interview with you in the Crier. You’re from New York.” I swear it seemed like he’d said, “You’re an alien.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nolan.” I tilted my head and gave him my best nonthreatening smile. “Do you have a library card?”
Nolan gave me a blank stare. “I’ve never needed one. I’m at the bookstore all the time.” His gaze drifted to Jo and lingered before returning to me.
“Everyone needs a library card, Nolan.” I increased the wattage of my smile.
