Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
She did not let a single inflection touch her voice. “I haven’t looked yet. I was waiting to hear how it went with Alice.” Then she tapped her head. “But I’ll certainly look through all the potential names on my list.”
Fernsby, whom she’d almost forgotten, studied her as if he could hear her molars grinding.
Then the doors opened. The line behind them suddenly moved. It was a crush, and only Troy’s hand on her arm kept her on her feet. With the surge of the crowd, they were carried into the bookstore as if they rode the crest of a wave.
It would have been frightening if not for Troy’s steadying hand and Fernsby on her other side keeping her upright between them. The bookstore certainly wasn’t large enough to handle the entire mob, what with tables stacked with books sitting on either side of the front door, filled bookshelves rising up the walls, and the checkout counter off to the right. At the back of the store, two rolling shelves had been pushed out of the way to make room for Mathilda Sullivan.
Michaela was close to losing her breath. The author had always seemed larger than life. But she was almost petite, at least from what Michaela could see behind the table, her hair an elegant swirl of silvery curls. Stands filled with several of her hardcover books surrounded her. The throng pushed Michaela forward down the central aisle that had been cleared to reach the table. A superfan, she’d loved all of Mathilda Sullivan’s books. She’d joined the author’s newsletter and followed her on Amazon and Goodreads, eagerly awaiting each new release.
Now she was here, right before Mathilda. On her left, Fernsby said, “You may go first, my dear.”
Michaela eyed him as if he’d lost his mind. “But you’ve been in line all afternoon.”
“As I said, I was saving that place for you.” Then he gave her a little shove. “Go talk to her.”
She whispered, “Thank you.”
Mathilda Sullivan had a beautiful smile and spoke with the refined tones of the late Queen of England. “Hello, my dear. I would love to sign your book if you would like.”
Michaela realized she’d been clutching the book to her chest like she’d never let it go.
The assistants outside had given everyone sticky notes to write their names on so that Mathilda would know how to spell each one.
Michaela had never considered herself starstruck, especially since she represented celebrities as well as billionaires. But Mathilda Sullivan made her feel like a spellbound teenager, and her voice came out as an embarrassing squeak at first. “Thank you so much for signing it for me.”
She slid the book across the table, opened to the title page with her sticky note on it. And then she couldn’t help gushing, “I want to thank you for what you do. When times were tough, I could turn to one of your books and feel good for a while. Justice is always served, and they were exactly what I needed to escape from real life sometimes. I started reading them as a teenager, and they’ve always made me feel better.”
Mathilda reached out to touch her hand. “Thank you so much for telling me that, my dear. Every writer wants to know that what they’ve written has touched people.” She picked up her pen and signed with a flourish.
Michaela had to gasp. “That’s the same pen Camilla Fernsby always uses.”
Mathilda laughed, a sparkling sound in the crowded bookstore. “It’s our favorite writing implement.”
As she handed back the book, Mathilda put her hand over Michaela’s. “I can’t tell you how special you’ve made this book signing for me. Thank you so much.”
Michaela could have talked with her all night, but there were at least five hundred people waiting behind her. Michaela couldn’t help but move out of the way, saying again, “Thank you.”
It was one of the most wonderful moments of her life.
And it almost made her forget that Troy wanted her to set him up on a date with someone else.
The woman had practically gushed over Mathilda Sullivan and completely charmed the best-selling author. But Michaela had also charmed him. Troy couldn’t help wondering what those tough times were. He couldn’t help wishing he’d been there to ease whatever she’d been going through. Watching her with Mathilda had given him a glimpse of the vulnerable woman she was at times.
Then Michaela stepped back from the table and almost into his arms. Her face was flushed, her pupils dilated; maybe it was the high of meeting her idol.
He would have asked her about the teenage years Mathilda Sullivan’s books had helped with, but Fernsby was stepping up to the author’s table.
Troy’s jaw was close to dropping at the look on Fernsby’s face. Why, the man was flustered. When he spoke to Mathilda Sullivan, he actually stammered. Fernsby stammered.