Book Fair and Foul (Ashton Corners Book Club) (3 page)

Lizzie stood and stretched. “I’ll gather up all the dirty dishes, since they don’t have to be washed,” she added with a grin, “and the rest of you can resume inventorying.”

“Inventorying? Huh. Well, you see what working in a bookstore will do for you?” Bob joked, pulling a garbage bag off one of the shelves in back. “It’ll help expand your vocabulary.”

Lizzie laughed. “That may be, Bob, but I know one thing that works even better. Reading. I’ve got my eye on the latest Cookbook Nook mystery,
Inherit the Word
, by Daryl Wood Gerber, and I’ll be taking her home with me today.”

Her “to be read” pile was getting much too low these days.

Now what?

HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN
—LOUISE PENNY

T
he following Thursday, Lizzie tapped the steering wheel of her Mazda 3 as she waited for the traffic light to change. An instrumental version of a song by Christina Aguilera that was popular in the mid-nineties played on the radio and she realized she was humming along. She’d recently watched the DVD of
Burlesque
for about the fifth time, loving the music and her once-favorite singer. She slowed to make a right onto Tay Street. Molly had given her a quick call a couple of hours earlier but had to leave a message since Lizzie was in a meeting with the teaching staff at the Ashton Corners Elementary School, where she was a reading specialist. A phone call, Lizzie noted. No texting yet.

Her message had been brief. The Farrows had arrived and now Lizzie was headed to the Quilt Patch Bed and Breakfast to help welcome them, as Molly had asked. She’d spent the previous evening reading the bios of all four authors who had been invited to the mystery fair, wanting to sound knowledgeable when she talked to them. As she remembered, Margaret Farrow wrote several romance series over the years but switched to her pen name, Caroline Cummings, for her mysteries. Lizzie had noted that the Southern Caterer Mysteries were popular enough to have won a couple of Silver Teaspoon Awards for Best Novel over the years at the CozyCon conference.

Also arriving in town today, A.J. Pruitt had a prolific career writing police procedurals, as Bob so often told anyone who would listen. Lizzie wondered if he realized they weren’t the edgy Dirty Harry type he so enjoyed, but rather were heavier on the humor and the puzzle to qualify as a cozy. Probably not.

Lorelie Oliver, another Southerner with a belle protagonist, this one the Southern Fashionista series, seemed to attend every conference going on; and Gigi Briggs was a travel agent by day with the third book in her series, the Big Top Mysteries, featuring a circus trapeze artist, just out. An interesting mix, for sure.

Lizzie parked on the street in front of the B and B and noticed an older, silver-haired man standing on the large wraparound porch smoking a cigar. He watched as she approached the stairs and then stuck out his hand as she drew level to him.

“Carter Farrow, ma’am, at your service. I’m assuming you are the Lizzie Turner we keep hearing so much about.” His smile was warm and friendly.

Lizzie shook his hand. “That depends on what you hear. If it’s good, then that’s me.”

Carter guffawed. “I think this will be a very delightful weekend indeed.” He gave her a wink, and Lizzie thought his hand was aiming at her backside as she hurried past into the hall.

Patsy Kindall, owner of the Quilt Patch, stepped out of the kitchen and greeted her. “Hey, Lizzie. They’re in the front room enjoying a sherry, if you’d like to join them.”

“Thanks, Patsy. How are things?”

“Getting busy. I don’t want to complain as we’re getting into the low season, but I’ll be hopping all weekend.” She sighed as she pulled back a stray lock of light brown hair that had fallen across her cheek. Her smile looked forced as she added, “Now that Sarah has moved away, I’m going to have to hire someone, I think.”

“How is Sarah? Enjoying her new job?” Lizzie knew that Patsy missed her daughter for many reasons, among them the invaluable help she provided at the B and B.

The phone rang before Patsy had a chance to answer. She waved Lizzie into the room to the right and scurried back down the hall.

“Lizzie, I’m so glad you’re here,” Molly said, rising to greet her. She hooked an arm around Lizzie’s waist and introduced her to Margaret Farrow.

“I’m very pleased to meet you and we’re grateful you could work our new fair into your schedule,” Lizzie said.

Margaret was just what Lizzie had expected. In fact, she looked surprisingly like the photo on the jacket cover of her book. Her dark brown hair, showing no hints of graying even though she was well into middle age, had been swept up in a French roll, the top obviously backcombed, and a fringe of wavy bangs. She wore a powder blue knee-length dress in a jersey material that clung to her lean body.

“I’m the one who’s just tickled pink to have been sought out like this. Y’all know how to make a struggling writer feel special.” Margaret punctuated the sentence with a giggle, which seemed to surprise her. “And, I prefer to be called Caroline while I’m here, please. It helps me stay in character.”

The front screen door slammed and Carter Farrow brushed past Lizzie, although Lizzie noted there was lots of space in the room. “I’ve already met this charming young lady outside. Can I pour you some sherry?” He looked at Lizzie. She noticed he held a glass of something else in his left hand. Obviously not a sherry drinker.

“No, not right now. I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Carter answered.

Embarrassed, Lizzie glanced over at Caroline in time to see the look of disgust on her face. It quickly changed into a benign smile as Carter settled himself on a Queen Anne chair at the far side of the room.

Caroline cleared her throat. “I wonder what time A.J. will be joining us. When we left the conference in Atlanta last Sunday, he said he was planning a long drive and stopovers on his way here. It seems he used to live in the area and wants to try to track down some old friends.”

“Why, I did not know that,” Molly said. “I hope he will be able to find them, although not much changes around these parts. Where are you from, Caroline?”

“Why, I’m a Louisiana girl, through and through.”

“Hence the Southern belle part of your series,” Lizzie threw in.

Caroline gave her a genuine smile this time. “How lovely that you know it. Of course, I’m writing about what I know, as they say. I’ve been considered quite the chef in my time.”

Molly nodded. “I’m sure.”

“It’s a winning combination,” Caroline continued, almost as if Molly hadn’t spoken. “My latest book won a Silver Teaspoon earlier this year, you know.”

“Yes,” Lizzie assured her. “I did know that. For Best Contemporary Novel, wasn’t it? And your romance novels are also award winners, aren’t they?”

Caroline was positively beaming by this time. “You are so right, my dear. I’m so happy you’re a fan of my work.”

Not what I’d said. Uh-oh. Better change the subject
. “How long have you known A.J. Pruitt?”

“Oh, the better part of twenty years, I’d say. You know, when I started out writing, we were an awfully small, tightly knit group. Now look at all the authors who turn up for CozyCon. They had so many, to hear the organizers tell it, that some didn’t even get on panels. I think there were some who were mighty upset by that. Of course, I also go to the National Romantic Writers annual conference, as myself, and have won two Heart and Dagger Awards over the years.”

“My goodness, you certainly keep yourselves busy with all these conferences and festivals and such,” Molly enthused. “How did the one in Atlanta turn out?”

“It’s always such a popular event with readers. They’re sold out for weeks in advance. And it’s well worth an author’s time attending. The book sales are phenomenal.”

Patsy entered with a tray of thimble cookies and shortbread. “I thought you’d like some sweets with your sherry. Now, did you want me to make those dinner reservations for you and Mr. Farrow at the Black Tomato tonight?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes, please do. For six o’clock.”

They all looked toward the front door as heavy footsteps crossed the porch and the door buzzer rang. Patsy scurried from the room.

“Oh my, that’s A.J.’s voice,” Caroline said. “A.J., dear . . . we’re in here,” she called out.

Molly and Lizzie exchanged glances.

A few minutes and some muffled words later, the doorframe filled with a large male, salt-and-pepper hair on the long side, round face with a very pleasant smile on it. He looked to be big-boned rather than fat, Lizzie realized. And she would never have taken him to be the sixty-six years attributed to him in his biography.

He went over to Caroline and engulfed her in a bear hug. He next turned to Molly, who introduced herself and Lizzie.

“Why, I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Mathews, and you, too, Ms. Turner.” He gripped their hands in his large bear paws.

“It’s Lizzie, please,” she said when she’d found her voice.

“And I am A.J.” He looked to Molly.

“Molly will do me just fine.”

His smile showed real warmth and humor. “I hope I arrived at a good moment. I’ve been driving all around the countryside and didn’t have any idea as to how long it would take to arrive here.” He plunked himself down on the settee next to Caroline.

“Have you and Carter had an enjoyable few days since I last saw you?” he asked her.

“Of course. It’s such a rarity for us to just take some time and see the sights. My writing schedule is so busy and I find there’s one deadline after the other. I keep telling poor Carter that he should just go on a holiday on his own. But the poor dear says he’d be lost without me.”

She glanced over at Carter.

“Huh,” was all he said. He topped off his glass and helped himself to a couple of shortbread then took a seat at the far end of the room. He turned to A.J. “How’s that car of yours for touring?”

“Loving it. It just purrs along. Worth every single penny.” A.J. looked over at Molly and Lizzie and explained. “I just made the biggest splurge in my life and bought myself a 1971 911 T Targa Porsche in mint condition. Makes me feel like a million bucks when I drive it.”

Lizzie smiled politely, not having a clue as to anything he’d said other than Porsche.

“Oh, men and their cars,” Molly interjected. “My dear departed husband, Claydon, had himself a 1956 Corvette that he just babied like he was a proud papa.”

Carter whistled. “I feel really out of place in this company, me and my 2008 Chrysler Sebring. But it does us just fine, doesn’t it, sugar cakes?” All eyes turned to Caroline, whom Lizzie rightly assumed must be sugar cakes. She shrugged but there was a sour look on her face.

“I’m really not all that much into cars, as you know, Carter. As long as it gets me from signing to signing.”

“Huh,” Carter said again.

“So what does Caroline Cummings have on the go at the moment?” Lizzie asked, hoping to relieve the increasing tension in the room. She couldn’t quite figure out what brought it on . . . cars, books or men.

Obviously the right topic, Lizzie thought as Caroline’s face lit up.

“Why, I’m on the eighth Southern Caterer mystery, which will be coming out next June. Which reminds me, I really must get back to my editor on that. I’ve asked that the publication date be pushed up at least a month so it’s available for the CozyCon conference at the beginning of June. Have you ever been to it, either of you?”

Both Lizzie and Molly shook their heads.

“Well, if you’re going to be in the business of cozies, you really must attend.” She looked directly at Molly as she said this.

Molly smiled sweetly. “That is good advice. However, my bookstore is not a specialty shop. There are so many different types of books and conferences, I could spend all my time attending them and none running the shop.”

Lizzie swallowed a smile. The thought of Molly spending all her time at A Novel Plot just didn’t fly. She relied on Stephanie and the others stopping by whenever they were needed but not necessarily every day. However, Lizzie had to admit that Molly did have her fingers on the pulse of the store and knew everything about it.

“Well, yes,” said Caroline, leaning over to pat Molly on the hand. “It’s much like what I face as a writer. I have to be on top of all my series, writing all the time to meet deadlines, and yet, I also have to get out there and meet my public. The fans demand it of an author and there’s all that promotion that needs to take place, too.”

Caroline glanced at her watch. “My goodness, look at that. It’s four thirty already and I just have to go and have a short nap before getting ready to go out. It’s part of my regimen and what gives me the energy to attend to everything.”

“When is Lorelie expected?” A.J. asked as he reached over for a cookie.

Caroline’s smile slid into a scowl. “Soon enough, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll just excuse me. It was charming meeting you both. I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

“Yes, you surely will,” Molly answered. “I have left my phone number in your rooms, along with directions to my house, where I will be hosting the welcoming dinner. Now, if you have any questions, just give me a call.”

Carter sauntered slowly out of the room behind Caroline. When they were out of earshot, A.J. said, “You’re in for a real show tomorrow night, let me assure you. The two divas around one table? Priceless.” He left them with a big wink.