And then steaming liquid in my lap. Thankfully it had landed on my thighs and not higher up. The pain had passed after a few minutes, leaving only the discomfort of finishing the book signing event in wet pants.
“That wasyou?” I asked.
Bonnie nodded rapidly, squeezing her eyelids together and rolling her lips inward so her mouth was a tense line.
I laughed. “I do remember you. But not because I was angry—and definitely not because I was permanently scarred or anything. Believe me, everything is justfinein that area.”
And why was I so eager for her to knowthat? “I sent my security after you because I was worried about you. I knew you had to be embarrassed, and I wanted you to know it was no big deal. Plus, I wanted you to have the signed book you came for.”
“I never went back for it,” she said. Then her whole face relaxed, and she dropped her head back on her shoulders and let out a breath. “Oh my gosh, I’msorelieved. I almost didn’t take this assignment because of it.”
I laughed out loud, squinting as the sun came out from between two clouds. “Well, I’m glad you did.”
She gave me a doubtful smile.
“I’m serious. This has been good for me,” I said. And it was true. “I’m getting some fresh air, I shaved.”
Shit.I’d just admitted my decision to shave did have something to do with her after all. But I wanted to make her feel better. She was so adorably miserable over the old memory that had clearly haunted her.
Stopping, I turned back toward the house and pointed. “See that turret there?”
Bonnie turned as well, shading her eyes from the sun as she followed the trajectory of my pointer finger. “Yes. It’s beautiful. The whole house is beautiful, Jack, like something from a dream.”
A swell of pride filled my chest. This placewasmy dream house, and it was nice that she appreciated it, too. “The top window in the turret—that’s where I write,” I told her. “You asked me about it yesterday, I just thought you might like to see it.”
“Wow. It’s perfect,” she said, and I could tell she meant it. “Would you mind if I take a photo and share it with our readers?”
I looked around at the private beach shielded by a natural rock barricade from the road. “I guess that would be alright.”
Hopefully it wouldn’t lead to droves of literary tourists trespassing in order to see it in person. Bonnie drew a small digital camera from her bag and took a few shots.
“I’d love to see the view from up there in the tower,” she said. “I’ll bet it’s incredible.”
Things had been going so well today, I hated to bethat guyand shut her down. But there was no way I could let her into my office, to let her get that close to my barely-started book that was due in only a few weeks.
I shook my head and gave her what I hoped was an amiable smile. “No can do. No one goes in there but me and, on occasion, Mrs. Potts when she insists on tidying up. Sorry.”
“Sacred space?” Bonnie asked.
“Nah. Mostly, it’s just messy—not much to see, really.”
“I understand,” she said, but the disappointment was evident in her voice.
I wanted to change the subject, bring back her smile. “So, tell me about you. How’d you get into journalism?”
We started strolling down the beach again. She bent to pick up a smooth, gray stone and threw it out into the surf, where it landed with a plop.
“Well, as we ‘discussed’ yesterday…” Here she turned and shot me a droll grin. “I started out wanting to write novels.”
Regret tweaked my heart with a short, sharp cramp. “I really am sorry about what I said. It was horrible.”
“No, it’s okay. You were right, for the most part. I mean, I took both journalism and creative writing classes in college, because I figured I’d need a day job, right?”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “Writing books is no get rich quick scheme—or get richeverfor most.”
“That’s what everyone told me. So, I took a job out of school with a small newspaper upstate. I was enjoying it, moved up the ladder to a bigger paper, and then to the Daily Report. But all the while, I felt my real passion was writing fiction. Throughout those years, I kept starting novels. Sadly, I had no idea how to finish one.”
“It’s not easy. I had quite a few false-starts myself, believe me,” I said.
