Strawberry Tartlets and a Dead Starlet (24 page)

"Well, he's bringing his squash-shaped head here, and I've ordered a lot of copies for him to sign," I said, handing books to everyone. "We all should read the book so we can answer customers' questions. Who knows—maybe he writes about growing up in Danger Cove."

Burt frowned, the tan skin on his face wrinkling around his mouth and eyes. "I don't need to read the book to know it's gonna be Cal rambling on about how great he is and how everyone loves him."

"Do you know him?" Alicia asked.

"Sure do. He was a couple years ahead of me in school," Burt said. "Always thought he was a bigger deal than he was."

"Now he is a big deal," I reminded him.

Burt took the book like I was handing him a full diaper or a live grenade.

"Also, because this was a last-minute addition to his schedule, he's coming next weekend, so we don't have a lot of time to get ready." I handed a book to Alicia, who read the back-cover copy with a raised eyebrow. "I'm going to need everyone to work on Saturday. Is that okay?"

Katya nodded but kept her eyes on the first page of Cal's book. "I was already scheduled to work on Saturday, so it's fine with me. Maybe there will be other Hollywood actors here."

 "Sure, who knows?" The odds that Cal traveled with an entourage of celebrities were nearly nonexistent, but I didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm.

"I'll call the bakery and order some refreshments," Alicia said. "And we can use the front area for the reading, where the tables are. Those will be easy to move around."

"Thanks, Alicia. That's what I was thinking too. I'll order some rental chairs, and we can have Cal stand at the podium near the bookshelves," I said, starting to feel something that was at once familiar and yet had been absent from my world for two months—perhaps it was excitement. I had always loved having a large event to organize, and I did miss that part of my former job.

I took a folder out of my black leather bag and handed out stacks of flyers announcing the event. "Feel free to hand these out."

I set a stack aside to take to The Clip and Sip when I went to get my hair cut later in the morning and glanced at my watch.

"I'll go unlock the front door," I said. "I have a list of things that need to be done this week, starting with a display for Cal's book."

Burt snorted again but picked up the box of books. "I guess we should put them in the front window for maximum exposure."

"Thank you, Burt," I said.

I put a copy of the
Tales I Shouldn't Tell
into my bag to read later. When I walked through the shop, I saw my mother on the other side of the glass door.

"Good morning, Mom," I said, letting her in. "What brings you downtown so early on a Saturday?"

"Garden club meeting, of course," she said. "And I wanted to see the new layout you were talking about."

She swept into the store in a long wool coat in a stunning shade of ivory, with a cloud of Chanel perfume trailing behind her. She was tall and slender, and her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed into a French twist. Her makeup was subtle and tasteful. And that was just for a meeting of the garden club.

Despite her professed interest in the bookshop, I had my doubts. Kimberly Sinclair wasn't much of a reader, and the only thing she and my grandmother had had in common was their love for me.

My mother looked around the store, and I could see the disapproval lurking below the surface. "It looks better," she said. "Is there any way to, you know, maybe lessen the clutter?"

"That's not clutter, Mom. It's books," I said.

"Of course, but maybe you could have fewer on display?"

"No. It's a bookstore. The books stay."

She sighed and forced a smile. "Of course, dear. It's your store."

That's right
, I thought but smiled back.

My mother picked up a book from the box Burt had left in the front window where he was starting to clean out the last display.

"Cal Montague wrote a book?" she asked. Her voice implied that she didn't know he could write his name. "I think I might have to actually read this."

"You should read it," I said. I couldn't remember her reading anything longer than an in-depth article on interior design in one of her fashion magazines. "And then bring it back here next weekend, and you can have him sign it."

Mom's eyes widened. "Cal Montague is coming back to Danger Cove?"

"He is, on next Saturday. Please tell your friends," I said and rang up my mother's purchase.

"Well, that is certainly news," she said. "The Garden Club is going to want to hear about this."

The last part of her statement seemed to be her talking to herself. I handed her a stack of flyers anyway. "Here, take these."

She put them in her bag with the book and then smiled at me. "Do you have time for coffee?"

I shook my head. "I don't. I have a haircut, and then I'm working until closing," I said. "I can get away for lunch, if you're free."

"I'll be by around noon," she said. "It's so nice having you back home."

She reached out and smoothed my hair with a smile that meant she was thinking of my dad. I had inherited his dark hair and brown eyes. Twenty years and she was still not over his sudden loss. I never knew if my presence helped or hurt her in that regard.

"You should grow your hair long again," she said, tilting her head. "You look so pretty with long hair."

With her left-handed compliment, my well of sympathy started to dry up a little.

"I like it short," I said.

"Maybe just a little longer," she said. "I hear a long bob is coming back in style."

My chin-length bob was very chic, according to the expensive stylist, to whom I used to pay a lot of money for the world's most simple haircut. And it was easy. Wash, brush, and go. No muss, no fuss.

I made a show of looking at my watch. "Oh, wow, I should get over to The Clip and Sip. Have fun at your garden meeting," I said, then grabbed my bag, waved to Burt, and left the store before my head exploded.

It was taking some adjustment coming home to Danger Cove. Part of the problem was that it hadn't really been my choice. I'd had a perfect life in Seattle. I had a great job at HunTech, which was the technology start-up my boyfriend, Hunter, had founded. We'd had a fun social life, and things had been going so well.

And then my grandmother had died, and Hunter had emailed me to say he wasn't going to go to the funeral with me, and by the way, he thought we should take a break from being exclusive.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd broken up with me by email, or more likely, that he'd actually used this particular email chain to break up with me—but I hadn't handled it well. And unfortunately, in my haste to reply, I hadn't noticed that my email program had automatically filled in HunTechAll instead of Hunter, and the righteously angry response had gone out to the entire company. And then it had gone viral.

I'd been unemployed by sundown. Also, single. Obviously.

It had been a dark time.

Frankly, finding out that I was also the sole heir to my grandmother's estate didn't make me feel one bit better. I loved her so much, and now I was living in her house and running her business. I could understand how my mother never moved on, seeing a small version of her dead husband across the dinner table every night. Being around Grandma Ruth's things was both comforting and a constant reminder of my loss.

I was a good 15 minutes early for my haircut at The Clip and Sip. It was a little early in the day to enjoy the complimentary wine and liqueurs, so I settled in with a coffee and my new book while I waited for Cassidi Conti to finish with her earlier appointment.

Cassidi was one of the newer additions to Danger Cove. The town hadn't changed that much since I'd gone off to college. It was still the same charming coastal town that I loved. Cassidi, a sunny, blonde Texas transplant, had recently taken over The Clip and Sip salon and was bringing a fresh sense of style to my hometown.

It was nice being back in Danger Cove. I'd been gone for a little more than a decade, though I visited two or three times a year. I just wasn't yet sold on the fact that I was back here on a permanent basis.

When I'd lost my boyfriend and my job, I knew that my cute one-bedroom loft in downtown Seattle would soon be out of my budget. My grandmother's bequest solved those problems—well, not the boyfriend one. But still, a solution had fallen into my lap, and I hadn't had much choice but to return to Danger Cove. It wasn't where I thought I'd be at this point in my life, but I was determined to make the best of it. Having a fresh start was what I needed.

And I was pretty close to believing my internal pep talk. I'd even convinced myself to come up with the author events. If nothing else, it was definitely keeping me busy.

It was a fairly quiet morning at The Clip and Sip, so I jumped into Cal Montague's book, starting with the dedication—a vague appreciation of his family's support through the years. I was just starting the lengthy acknowledgments, when I noticed the stout, older woman next to me craning her head to look at the cover. When she realized I caught her, she gave me a knowing stare.

"That's Cal Montague."

I nodded and held up the book. "Yes, his autobiography. He's coming next Saturday to sign his book at Dangerous Reads."

Before she could object, I shoved a flyer into her hands and introduced myself.

"Oh, yes, Meri Sinclair. I knew your grandma, may she rest in peace. I'm Donna Bocca," she said, shaking my hand with a bone-crushing grip. "So you're running the bookshop now? Why on earth did you invite Cal Montague back to Danger Cove?"

Donna took the book from my hand without asking and studied the cover with a frown that emphasized her faint mustache.

"Well, it's his hometown," I said. "Do you know him?"

She smirked, and her wide nostrils flared. "Years ago, sure. And I know his ex-wife."

Gia Di Mitri, a young and flashy stylist, teetered over to us on stiletto heels that made me nervous just watching her. She took the book out of Donna's hands with a curious look. "Who's
this
?"

"Cal Montague," I said. "He's an actor. Grew up here in Danger Cove."

I stuffed a flyer into Gia's hand, too, just for good measure.

"An actor, huh?" Gia said, tossing her hair as she flipped to the back cover.

"He used to be married to Pippa Montague," Donna said with a knowing nod at Gia before she ripped the book away from the stylist. "And I have to tell you, Pippa Montague is not going to be happy about this."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Oh, honey. Their divorce was legendary back in the day. It was all anyone talked about for months," Donna said, handing me the book. "This could get interesting. I may have to come by the bookstore and check it out."

 "It's been a long time since the divorce, right? I'm sure things have settled down," I said, handing Gia a stack of the flyers. "The reading will be fun. Can I leave these here for your clients?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, putting the papers on the counter near the cash register. "Sounds like fun. Especially if Pippa Montague comes."

"What do you mean?"

Donna and Gia exchanged a glance, and the stylist tilted her head a little. "Pippa's a little, I don't know, uptight?"

"Angry. Bitter. Snooty," Donna said, helping round out the description of Cal's ex-wife. "And let's just say that Cal isn't the only overly dramatic one in that family. You're too young to remember the drama. But it was a big deal when Cal married Pippa. She was just out of high school, and he was off working in movies. Then they moved off to New York City for a time, but she hated it there. He got a part in Hollywood, so they moved there, and oh, she really hated that."

Gia plopped down on a padded ottoman like it was story time at the library. "What happened next?"

Donna leaned forward, happy to have an audience. "When their son was born, they moved back to Danger Cove and bought a house in Craggy Hills Estates. But Cal was rarely there—always flying off to Los Angeles or New York or London."

"Is that why they divorced?" I asked.

Donna shrugged. "I heard it was because Cal was quite the ladies' man. But you know, that's just gossip. Pippa made out like a bandit in the divorce though. Which was only right, after a decade of putting up with Cal."

I was beginning to think that Cal's book might be more interesting than I originally estimated, and it sounded like it was of particular interest to the local community.

"Well, I'm just so excited that we'll get to hear him read portions of it at Dangerous Reads, six o'clock on Saturday." I gave them my best public relations professional smile, and they each tucked a flyer into their pockets.

"Meri, I'm all ready for you," Cassidi said, walking to the front of the salon and greeting me with a warm, lopsided smile. "Your mom says you're growing your hair out."

Of course she did. I stuffed Cal's book into my bag and headed back to the shampoo center. "No, I am not. In fact, take another inch off."

 

 

A NOVEL DEATH

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