Played by the Book (A Novel Idea Mystery 4) Read online

  “A man’s leg,” she maintained. “And I’m starting to think it was no dream.”

  Sean moaned and rubbed his forehead. “Walk me out?” he asked, standing and pushing back his chair.

  I left Mama in the kitchen and followed Sean back through the cottage. He turned to me as soon as we reached the porch. In one sudden swoop, I found myself in his arms, his lips on mine. I melted into the warmth of his embrace, cherished the feel of his lips against mine. When he came up for air, I started to say something, but he placed a finger on my lips. “It’s all going to be fine. I’m going to make sure an officer is posted outside your house again tonight. First thing in the morning, we’ll bring in Alice and Grant for questioning. We’ll get this figured out, Lila, I promise.” He kissed me again. This time even more passionately, his grip tightening around my waist. For a second, the strength of his kiss frightened me, then I relented, leaning in and surrendering myself to the comfort of his strong arms.

  *

  BACK INSIDE, I found Mama rummaging through my linen closet, knocking down a few pillow cases and mussing my orderly stacks of sheets. I moved in next to her, straightening her mess as she went along. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Does Trey need another blanket?”

  “No, sug. I’m just gettin’ my bedding ready.”

  “Decided that you’re coming back to stay here again?”

  She paused. “If it’s okay with you, that is.”

  I nodded and smiled. “Let me help you.” We carried the bedding to the living room sofa. Trey was already snoring in the recliner, wiped out from his day.

  “Will you look at that?” my mother said, staring warmly at Trey. “Why just yesterday it seems he was taking his first steps. Now he’s gone and grown into a man.”

  A little ache pulled at my heart. I stopped tucking the sheet and looked directly at her. “I feel the same way, Mama.”

  “Whoever did this to his car may have it out for you, Lila, but he almost killed our boy.” She glanced around. “Where’d Rusty go?”

  I tried to shrug off her question, but my eyes betrayed me by sliding back toward the linen closet, where I’d hidden the darn thing. Attempting to cover my ocular blunder, I dropped the sheet and went to her side. “Sean is placing an officer outside our house tonight. We’re safe; don’t worry.” I offered a little smile, but deep down I knew she was right. Our family had been targeted—nothing was more personal and urgent than that. I just didn’t know how to go about doing something about it. But I didn’t need Mama worried as much as I was. And trusty Rusty in Mama’s hands after her nightcap with Jim Beam surely wasn’t the answer!

  Chapter 18

  I took Friday off to stay home and fuss over Trey while he rested and recuperated from his accident. For a day off, it was busier than a workday. The phone rang nonstop, my fellow agents calling to check on Trey’s condition and express their concern. Then, around midmorning, Makayla sent Zach over to our house with a much-appreciated delivery of hot coffee and scones. Just as he was leaving, the glass guy showed up to install my new front window, which took the rest of the day and cost twice as much as I’d anticipated. What’s more, just before suppertime, the doorbell rang again. This time it was Flora and Vicky dropping by with carryout from the James Joyce Pub. Which was wonderful and so appreciated, since I hadn’t had a chance to cook a single thing all day.

  Despite everything going on, Saturday had finally arrived and I found myself at the Secret Garden, setting up and decorating for Damian’s dinner. As I stood, surveying all our preparations, I felt in awe of all that had been accomplished. An event of this magnitude could have never happened without team effort. Not only after Trey’s accident, but even now, my friends and fellow agents were by my side, helping me put the final touches on the dinner decorations. Over and over again, my coworkers amazed me. Not only were they the best people in the world to work with, they were truly caring friends.

  “I can’t believe how well everything has come together,” Franklin said, using a pair of tongs to gently lower a white pillar candle into a blue-tinted mason jar. Next to him, Makayla twisted a dark grapevine along the center of the table, interspersing it with galvanized containers filled with bundles of snipped lavender and fresh herbs.

  “Lovely, just lovely,” Flora complimented her.

  At the other end of the pergola, Zach and Jude were busy shuffling a tall stepladder from beam to beam, adhering strings of tiny white globe lights. They were so intensely dedicated to covering every single beam with lights that they reminded me of Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation. “You missed a spot,” I called out, pointing to a beam above Zach’s head.

  “Where? Where?” he inquired, twisting his head like an inebriated owl.

  We all laughed and continued along with our separate jobs. Once again, I had to admire how well we worked together, like the parts of a finely tuned engine, each person performing their task to make the whole event run smoothly.

  “Is everything ready for the signing, Franklin?” I asked, my head turning as Jay pushed by with a wheeled cart stacked with old doors. His tables made from farmhouse doors were the focal point of the entire setup. They set the tone and added just the right amount of rustic flare.

  “Oh yes. We’re set up by that grand magnolia tree near the gift shop entrance. Bentley is there now, making sure everything’s in tip-top shape.” He glanced down at his watch. “My goodness, it’s almost three thirty.” The garden walk was scheduled to finish around four, allowing people to make it to the Secret Garden’s gift shop and purchase their books in time for Damian’s five o’clock appearance. We’d estimated the timing would allow a couple of hours for the book signing before everyone would need to be seated for the dinner. Since dinner wasn’t going to be served until seven o’clock, Paul Cohen had arranged for drinks and appetizers to be served at the signing while patrons waited in line to meet Damian. All of which would help in the sales, too.

  Franklin excused himself. “I should head over there to see that everything is on schedule. Can you manage the rest of the decorating?”

  “Of course,” Makayla’s sweet voice chimed in. “We just have a few final touches.” She and Jay had been stealing glances at each other all afternoon, almost like schoolkids. I was finding it increasingly difficult to not spill the beans over Jay’s pending proposal. I wondered if he’d thought of a romantic way to pop the question yet. Considering he’d serenaded her with musicians and roses just to ask for a first date, his proposal would have to be over-the-top romantic.

  A while later, I stood next to Makayla at the garden gate, looking over our handiwork. “It’s absolutely stunning,” I observed, taking in the beauty of it all. A late-night thunderstorm the night before had brought relief to the unbearable mugginess of the week, lifting depleted foliage from its heat-induced slump and inspiring sleepy flower buds to burst open with color. I inhaled, filling my lungs with the post-rain freshness as I watched the crisp linen runners flap in rhythm with the humming of tree locusts. I’d never seen the Secret Garden so beautiful; it practically sparkled in the midday sun. “It’s like a magic kingdom awaiting the arrival of the prince,” I declared.

  “Speaking of the prince”—Makayla chuckled—“maybe we should walk to the gift shop and see how things are coming along with Damian’s signing.”

  “Let’s do,” I agreed, taking one final look before turning down the path and heading through the gardens toward the gift shop. Franklin had had the great idea of lining the nursery paths with tiki torches, which Jay and the other guys would light near the end of tonight’s dinner event. That way, guests could depart the dinner and follow the lit path back through the nursery and out to their cars. All in all, the whole setting was so wildly romantic that, once again, I found myself thinking about the possibilities for my own wedding—that is, if Sean ever got around to proposing. Our long talk the other night had not broached the subject of marriage, even after my admission that I’d overheard him tell Trey he intended
to propose. We’d spoken for hours, discussing the importance of our jobs, our mutual reluctance to open up, the pressures of our careers, and how we felt about, well, nearly everything. Everything, that is, except if we felt marriage was right for us two career-intensive types. I’d ended up relieved that we could talk so freely, assured of our love for each other yet unsure just where that really left us as a couple.

  “Looks like they’re right on time,” Makayla said, bringing me back to the moment. I followed her gaze and caught a glimpse of several white catering vans pulling into the service entrance.

  “I can’t believe things are actually coming together so well,” I commented. “There’s no way Franklin and I could have pulled this off without your help.”

  “Hey, let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. Or in your case, books before they’re sold. The real test of success tonight is going to be proven with book sales. I have to confess, I’ve been daydreaming about what it would be like to have my book published one day. Oh, I know it’s a long shot, but could you imagine the way it must feel to know that your words have reached people all over the world, maybe brought a moment of joy or laughter to their lives?” Her whole face lit up as she spoke. “It would be my dream come true.”

  I slowed my pace and paused, pretending to admire a border of daylilies, my lips practically twitching with anticipation. I’d been on my way to tell Makayla the good news before Trey’s accident and hadn’t had a chance to do so yet. Now seemed like the perfect time. “So, if I were to tell you an offer came in for The Barista Diaries, your life would be complete?”

  She hesitated midstep, turning to me. “What are you saying?”

  I grinned and nodded. “You have an offer from a small press, but they have great distribution, especially to libraries. And they want to know if you can write a sequel.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth as she tried to unsuccessfully contain a sudden burst of happy squeals. I noticed joyful tears forming at the edges of her eyes. “Are you serious?” she managed to ask.

  Placing my hands on her trembling shoulders, I slowly repeated the terms of the offer.

  “This is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me!” Her words came in breathless spurts as she wrapped her arms around me in a giant bear hug. “Thank you, Lila. Thank you!” She released me and gasped. “I’ve got to tell Jay! He’s going to be thrilled!” With that, she took off back down the path the way we’d come, half running, half skipping, and giggling all the way.

  My heart soared as I continued toward the gift shop. I couldn’t honestly think of anyone else who deserved happiness as much as Makayla. She was always there for everyone: her friends, her customers, and especially me. It’s wonderful when life rewards kindness and hard work with good fortune.

  Still grinning like a fool, I rounded the corner and was surprised to see an enormous crowd already gathered in front of the gift shop. Under the magnolia tree, a tent was set up with a long table prominently displaying a full-color poster of Perfect Outdoor Spaces. At the end of the table, Damian was sitting, pen in hand, flourishing his signature inside one book after another, stopping only to strike an occasional pose with an eager fan. I wasn’t sure which line was longer, the line to meet Damian or the line leading into the gift shop, where his book was available for purchase.

  A little ways down from the signing area, Franklin had set up another tent with café-style tables where guests could linger, sip wine, and sample appetizers until it was time to be seated for dinner. Just for fun, he and Addison, the nursery manager, arranged additional tables with design displays for container plantings. Everywhere I looked inside the tent, there were pots overflowing with the most vivid flower combinations: spiky pink salvia paired with rambling white petunias and trailing black sweet potato vine; fluffy pink geraniums peeking out of a sea of blue velvet petunias and purple sorbet violas; or my personal favorite, a pot stuffed full of dwarf sunflowers, yellow snapdragons, and marigolds the color of melting Dreamsicles. Each display was accompanied by a customized container recipe card, which guests could take for replicating the container design at home. I picked up a few myself, thinking how fun it would be to put together a couple of pots for my front porch.

  I mingled with a few guests as they enthusiastically perused the displays with signed books under their arms and champagne flutes in hand, snippets of their conversations ranging from gardening to food talk and almost everything in between. As people finished getting their books signed, the crowd grew and cheerfully spilled out of the tent and onto the nursery paths, where Damian’s fans anticipated dinner while admiring the rest of the nursery gardens.

  “There you are, Lila!” I turned around to find Bentley scurrying toward me, looking ever-so-professional in a crisp white suit and red patent platform heels. Her signature reading glasses dangled from a ruby-embellished chain, complimenting her shoes and, although she must have tucked it temporarily away in a safe spot, I imagined a matching purse—perhaps a rich red leather or even a deep scarlet fabric accented with rhinestones to jazz up her ensemble. “A smashing success!” she enthused. “For certain, we’ll sell out tonight.” She glanced at her watch. “Is everything set for dinner?”

  “Yes. When I left, Jay was just mounting speakers and setting up a microphone for Damian’s speech and the announcement of the van Gogh winner.” After speaking to Paul Cohen, I’d mentioned a little of Damian’s backstory to Franklin and he’d convinced the author to speak about his rocky road to success. According to Franklin, Damian had prepared a moving speech that was sure to inspire the audience. I glanced over to where he was charming one of his readers now, a young woman blushing with pleasure as he stood and placed an arm around her shoulder, posing for the camera. I silently wondered how a man like Damian had made it to his thirties without being snagged by a beautiful woman.

  “Damian may be one of our biggest successes yet,” Bentley was saying, her eyes sparkling as she watched him in action. “I plan to do whatever it takes to make sure I’ve secured his representation for many years to come. That man is going somewhere; I’m sure of it.”

  Something about the emotion in her voice caused me to do a double take. It wasn’t often that Bentley showed her softer side. Had Damian actually charmed my ever-cool boss? Was “secure his representation” some sort of Bentley code-talk for her desire to be in a relationship with the man? I volleyed my head back and forth between the two of them and shrugged. Why not? They’d make for an interesting couple, that’s for sure. “Do you need any help here?” I offered.

  She glanced at her watch. “No. Actually we’ll be finishing within the hour. Maybe you should head back and make sure everything is in order with the caterers.” She looked pointedly at me and added, “So far, everything’s gone according to plan. Let’s just make sure it continues that way.”

  So much for the softer side of Bentley, I thought, turning and heading back down the path. I didn’t let her directives dampen my spirits, though. After all, things were going well so far. All we had to do was get through the dinner and I could mark this event down as another accomplishment in my book of agent events.

  Chapter 19

  Just before seven o’clock, the first of the dinner guests started arriving to be seated. Vicky and I stood at the gate, greeting and collecting tickets while Jude, Jay, and Zach were busy escorting groups of guests to their tables. I kept my eyes peeled for Sean. He’d promised to arrive in time to eat dinner with me.

  It was easy to get caught up in the joviality of the event. Guests’ faces beamed as they entered the gate and took in the enchanting scene set for them. Whispers of astonishment, happy giggles, and throaty laughter carried over the flower-scented breeze as they settled at the tables and eagerly awaited the guest of honor.

  As soon as the tables were full, the waiting staff started making their rounds, filling water goblets and delivering the first of the dinner courses. I took my seat at the agency’s table, where the Bentley, Damian, Zach, an
d Jude were already involved in a lively discussion about the evolution of ebooks and whether or not they would eventually outsell print books. Bentley, always a champion for print books, was holding her own in the debate. I sipped at my water and listened with interest, trying to focus on the conversation and not glance at the empty seat next to me. I was just about to speak up and express my opinion on the convenience of electronic reading devices when I felt a tap on my shoulder and glanced up to find Brian and Flora. Brian rolled his neck and drew in a deep breath. “I want to apologize,” he started.

  I reached up and touched his arm. “No need, Brian. Flora explained everything and I completely understand.”

  “Still, I want to tell you how grateful we are that you … uh …” He glanced around self-consciously, realizing that Damian and the other agents were listening. “Helped us face this issue. It’s been a good thing for us.” I nodded and bit back a smile as they exchanged one of those looks shared only by couples deeply in love.

  Once again the sparkle had returned to Flora’s eyes. “It sure has,” she agreed, grazing his shoulder with her cheek. “Oh, by the way, Lila. I forgot to tell you I still have that box of photos in my car. I looked back through them like you asked, but I’m afraid nothing stood out to me.”

  I felt deflated. I’d been grasping at straws, hoping Flora might recognize one of the girls in those photos. “No, that’s okay. I’ll get them from you tonight. I should make sure they’re returned to Fannie’s house this weekend, I guess.”

  Across the way, I saw Jay and Makayla, sitting at one of the long tables, their heads bent together in conversation. Although there were other couples seated around them, they seemed to have eyes only for each other. I wondered if they were discussing Makayla’s pending book contract, or something even more important, like their own future story.