something to his partner about making a right turn at the next street. The trouble with cell phones is you never know what somebody is doing when you reach them, or where they are. And I always seem to get Barry at the wrong place.
“What?” he said abruptly, then apologized for being short.
“Maybe this isn’t the best time,” I said.
Barry is not one to put things off, and once he realized I had called for a reason, he insisted on knowing why, even if he was on the way to a situation that was probably dangerous. I gave him the short version. “Basically, I’m calling off our weekend because I have to work.”
“What?” He choked. It wasn’t the kind of
Apparently the shoe on the other foot didn’t fit so well.
As I was leaving the bookstore cafe with a red-eye in hand, Mrs. Shedd stopped. She had her purse and was obviously on her way out. Mr. Royal was waiting outside and seemed to be waving at her to hurry up.
“That man is so impatient. I guess we have a lot of time to make up for,” she said, referring to all the years Mr. Royal had been traveling the world. She leaned close and handed me a piece of paper. “I’m sure you won’t need this-it’s only for emergencies.” I glanced down at the elaborate directions on how to reach her. “Joshua surprised me with tickets for a cruise. You know, one of those last-minute deals. We’re off to Mexico.” Her smile suddenly dimmed. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always been the responsible good soldier. But I thought it was time I did something impulsive and let someone else be the responsible one.” She nodded toward me. “I guess that’s it. Rayaad will be handling things here. And you’ve got the weekend covered.” Her expression focused. “Oh, there was just one more little snafu. The tai chi master I’d lined up canceled at the last minute.” Mrs. Shedd shook her head. “Don’t you just hate it when people are undependable?” She pointed toward the box of packets still in the event area. “Don’t worry, I already found somebody. I put a blank name tag in the box for him and relabeled the folder. You’ll do fine.” And then she was gone. So CeeCee was right. Mrs. Shedd was doing something with Mr. Royal.
Before I could finish my coffee with a shot of espresso, a black Crown Victoria stopped in the red zone in front of the bookstore. Barry got out and rushed inside.
As always when he was working, he wore a nicely fitting dark suit and a subdued tie, but whatever he’d been in the middle of had left him looking frazzled. He ran his hand through his neatly cut dark hair, and for a moment emotion cut into his expressionless cop face. He didn’t look happy.
He crossed the space between us in a few steps. His dark eyes were flaring by the time he reached me.
“Babe, you can’t just dump our plans.” He glanced around and, seeing that no one was looking, put his arms around me. Generally, when he was working, he was completely hands free. “C’mon. I won’t be in the way. How much time can it really take? You have to eat and you have to sleep and you have to get some kind of breaks. I had big plans,” he said, his voice heavy with suggestion.
His proximity was giving a lot of weight to his argument, and the thought of his plans made me a little rubbery in the knees. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with him, it was just that I now had more responsibility. For a moment I started to weaken. Was I really listening to Adele and her warning? Hadn’t Mrs. Shedd told me to have fun? What better way to have fun than to spend some quality time with Barry? But then my good sense kicked in. I had the rhinestone clipboard and the responsibility that went with it. I didn’t want to be thinking of how I could slip away every minute. I wanted my mind focused on the job at hand. And that meant no distractions. No Barry.
When he finally accepted that he couldn’t change my mind, Barry double-timed it outside, and a moment later the car pulled away. I packed up the box of presenters’ packets along with the rhinestone clipboard and headed for home. This weekend was not going to be a vacation.
CHAPTER 3
“YOU SHOULD LOOK AT THIS AS AN OPPORTUNITY,” Dinah said. “You said yourself that Mrs. Shedd is spending less and less time at the bookstore, and to back out of this weekend at the last minute-” Dinah looked me in the eye. “I’d say it’s only a matter of time until she turns over running the whole place to someone. And I’d guess you’re at the top of her list.”
My son Samuel had just dropped us at LAX, and we were walking into the terminal along with throngs of early afternoon travelers. Samuel had assured me I didn’t have to worry; he would take care of the dogs, get the mail, and water my flowers. I wasn’t worried because my older son, Peter, had assured me he would take care of the dogs, mail, and plants. Barry had promised to do the same. What can I say? I had asked all three to take care of things in my absence. Each of them was busy and not used to having a couple of dogs depending solely on him. I figured the worst that would happen was the dogs and plants would get too much care.
“You could be right. But she could turn over the bookstore to someone else. Or she and Mr. Royal could decide to shut the place down altogether,” I said as we stopped at one of the self-service kiosks and got our boarding passes before heading up the escalator to security.
The line snaked around, and as people moved forward, they were already removing their computers from their bags, kicking off shoes, and sliding off belts.
“Rats,” Dinah said, looking at the line.
“I know what you mean. It’s such a hassle going through security.”
“No,” Dinah said. “Well, yes, it is a hassle, but that isn’t what my comment was about. I saw all the laptops and realized I didn’t bring mine. You didn’t bring yours, by chance?”
Dinah reconsidered her comment almost before the last of it left her mouth as she remembered I got along with only a desktop model.
“It’ll be okay. I’m sure you can live for a weekend without checking your e-mail or going on the Internet.” We had reached the conveyer belt and were loading our shoes, purses, tote bags, scarves and sweaters into plastic trays.
Once we were through the checkpoint and had ourselves back together, Dinah followed me toward the escalators that led to a waiting area level with the tarmac.
Adele and Sheila had left early in the morning because they were driving up. I still had the rhinestone clipboard, but they had taken the box of folders for the workshop leaders along with the packets for the retreaters. One of the workshop leaders had left a box of supplies for them to bring up, too. I had already heard from Adele that they had arrived.
Dinah noticed the furrow in my brow. “You’re still worried about the weekend, aren’t you? I’m telling you, you’ll do fine.”
“I just keep thinking if this weekend goes badly, it might be the thing that pushes Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal to close down.” Dinah knew how much the job meant to me. I loved going to work and putting on the events.
After my husband, Charlie, passed away, working at the bookstore had been a whole new beginning for me. I finally had an identity. For so long I had been known only in relation to someone else. I was Samuel and Peter’s mother. I was Charlie’s wife. Or the She La La’s Liza Aronson’s daughter. At the bookstore I was just Molly.
Dinah tried to calm my concern. “It’s going to be great. I’m looking forward to working with my memoir writers. We’ll be out of the heat for a few days, and no matter what Adele says, I bet even with your responsibilities, you’ll have some time to crochet and enjoy yourself. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
Dinah’s last statement made me uneasy. It sounded like she was tempting fate. We took the escalator down and walked into the waiting area.
“But they assured me there would be no problem.” A woman’s shrill voice rose above the din of conversation, and I looked toward the commotion. She was talking to the airline employee who was checking in passengers.
“I don’t know who you talked to, but here’s our policy. We can’t guarantee anything,” the uniformed employee said in a restrained tone.
