Death by Vanilla Latte Page 3

  Since Dad wasn’t going to read the novels tonight, Rita decided to skip reading from her own work, which was a good thing, in my opinion. Her heart was in the right place, but she struggled mightily when it came to putting words on the page. I’d heard enough of it to know, and I would feel bad for her if someone in the audience were to start booing. I had a feeling Albert wouldn’t hesitate to embarrass her if he got the chance.

  Dad began answering questions like “Where do you get your ideas?” and “How long does it take you to write a book?” I’d heard all the answers before, and quickly grew bored. Dad did a good job of answering without rolling his eyes or getting annoyed by hearing the same thing over and over. He was far better at this than I’d ever be.

  It didn’t take long before I started to get anxious. I shifted in place at least a dozen times in less than a minute, and the constant creaking of my chair caused a few annoyed eyes to turn my way. I stood and ducked out of the room with muttered apologies. I desperately needed fresh air.

  The night had grown chilly, and I hugged my arms around my chest as I left the church. I was trying hard to take Will’s advice and enjoy myself, but so far, I’d barely gotten a chance to speak to Dad. I was afraid that he’d be mobbed this entire visit, leaving me to watch him from afar. It actually made me a little sad to think I might not get to sit down and have a real conversation with him without someone else—likely Rita—hovering around.

  “You look cold.”

  I jumped as Rick put his arm around me.

  “I’m fine.” I stepped away, pulling from his grip with a shudder. “Shouldn’t you be inside?” I asked. It came out a bit more accusatory than I’d intended, but I wasn’t sorry for it. I didn’t like people touching me uninvited, especially when it was someone I didn’t like all that much.

  “I saw you leave and thought I’d come check on you. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, looking toward the church door and hoping someone else would step outside. The door remained stubbornly closed. “I needed some fresh air. I’m going back in now.”

  “Wait a few moments, would you?” Rick stepped in front of me, keeping me from the door. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute, if that’s okay?”

  It wasn’t, but I decided to play nice. “Okay,” I said. “I have a minute or two.”

  “Good.” Rick’s smile was so slimy, it made my stomach churn. “You know, I’ve always known you’d grow up to be pretty. You were good-looking back when you were this high.” He held a hand up to his waist.

  “Excuse me?” I took a step back from him, surprised by his directness.

  He didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable he was making me. “You were definitely always a very pretty girl, if not a little nosy for your own good. If I’d been your age, then well . . .” He shrugged and then laughed it off as if it were all a big joke. “It’s just nice to see you’ve done well for yourself.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hesitantly, still not sure I wanted to know where this was going.

  Rick took a step toward me, glancing toward the church doors as he did. “You know, if you have a novel you’d like me to look at, I’d be happy to take a gander. I’m staying at a local B and B and figure you could, I don’t know, stop by and drop it off in person.” His eyes moved from my face, down my body. “See where it goes.”

  His gaze was like a million spiders crawling over me. “Sorry,” I said, taking another step back from him. “I don’t write.”

  Rick reached out and put a hand on my arm. “I’m sure you have something I could look at.” He practically cooed the words. “I’d really like to see it.”

  The church doors blessedly opened then. Rick’s hand jerked back like he’d been burned. His ever-present scowl returned as Dad led a procession of authors out the doors, a Bobby Drake hat pulled rakishly down over one eye. He hesitated a moment before moving down the stairs. At least a dozen of the prospective authors following saw Rick and immediately started his way, waving their manuscripts at him.

  “Not interested!” Rick barked. “Cameron! Let’s go. Now!” He spun and went straight for his car, not looking back at the mob, who were pleading with him to take at least one quick look.

  “What was that about?” Dad asked, coming to my side.

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Rick. What were you two talking about?”

  I bit my lower lip. I didn’t want to ruin their working relationship, but honestly, the guy gave me the creeps. “He wanted to know if I had a novel for him to read,” I said, slowly, trying to figure out how to work into it. “And he suggested I come to where he’s staying to show it to him.”

  My dad looked at me, a frown creasing his features as he realized what I really meant. “He did what?”

  “I’m sure it was nothing,” I said, knowing it was the exact opposite. “He’s always made me uncomfortable ever since I was a kid. I was probably reading too much into it.” Though I knew I wasn’t. He’d been pretty darned clear.

  Dad frowned, gazing toward where Rick had gone. He had a contemplative look on his face, one that was slowly turning to anger.

  “Thank you so much for coming!” Rita said, coming our way. She was flush with excitement.

  “No problem.” Dad plastered on a smile as he turned to her. “I’m glad you had me.” He leaned over to me and whispered, “Don’t worry about Rick. I’ll smooth things over.” And then he went to join Rita, leaving me to wonder if I’d done the right thing, or if somehow this was all going to blow up in my face.

  3

  Needless to say, I didn’t sleep all that well that night. I kept thinking about how Rick had touched me, of the things he’d said. I’d never liked the guy before, but never once did I think of him as someone who was interested me in that way. I mean, I knew him from before I was a teenager. I kept hoping I’d taken his words the wrong way, yet no matter how I looked at it, I kept coming to the same conclusion.

  When I got up in the morning, I was tired, and not looking forward to going in to work. I wasn’t due to open, thankfully, but I’d told Vicki I’d come in bright and early so I could help my dad start to set up for the book signing that weekend. Apparently, there were displays, and the books were going to go on sale before the event so anyone interested in one could buy it ahead of time to speed up the lines.

  I dreaded having to see Rick, so imagine my pleasure when I entered Death by Coffee and he wasn’t there. Dad was upstairs with Vicki, pointing toward the corner where we kept the couch and chairs for people so they could sit and read. After a brief hesitation, I joined them.

  “If we set up there, I’ll be out of the way,” Dad said as he picked up Trouble, who was winding in and out of his legs. The cat immediately started purring.

  “I can always move some shelves,” Vicki countered. “Put you right up front and in the middle so no one misses you.”

  “Then I’d just be in the way of your normal shoppers. The corner is fine. I could do the reading downstairs so you don’t have to move any chairs.”

  “If you say so.” Vicki turned to me and hit me with her thousand-watt smile. “Isn’t this fantastic?”

  I lowered my voice so only Vicki could hear and said, “Wait until I invite your parents to town without your knowledge.” I followed it up with a playful wink.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, but continued to smile. “Now, that isn’t very nice.” She motioned toward the corner. “What do you think? Should we set him up there? Or should we move the shelves around and put him front and center. You’re the deciding vote.”

  I eyed the bookshelves. They weren’t heavy themselves, but that was a lot of books to relocate. And once the signing was done, we’d have to move them all back again. My back ached just thinking about it.

  “I think the corner works fine. You can still see him from the door and it would allow our normal shoppers to still look for what they want.”

  Vicki tapped her chin with a perfect nail and the
n nodded. “All right, corner it is. Let me go back and check on the signs. I’ll have Lena hang them up around town so people know where to find you.” She gave my dad a quick hug. “I’m so glad you decided to do this here.”

  “I couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else.”

  Vicki spun on her heel and went to the back, where we normally kept our stock, but which had now become a storage space for everything we needed for Dad’s signing.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said as soon as she was gone. “I didn’t know Rick would do that.” He stroked Trouble, who had his eyes closed, clearly enjoying the attention.

  “Actually, I should be the one to apologize.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh?”

  “Rita can come on strong.” And that was putting it mildly. “I should have warned you about her the moment I saw you.”

  “No, she was fine.” Dad smiled. “Actually, it was kind of nice to have someone who seems genuine in her enthusiasm about my books. There were people there who only wanted me to take a look at their manuscripts, but who didn’t know much of anything about me other than that I am a writer. Maybe I’m getting conceited in my old age, but I didn’t like it.”

  “At least you sicced them on Rick,” I said, not without a little malice.

  “Yeah.” Dad’s face darkened, which hadn’t been my intent when I’d mentioned his agent.

  I glanced around the room. “Where is he, by the way? I figured he’d want to be here to tell you how to set everything up. He was always a control freak about things like this.”

  “I don’t know,” Dad said. “And really, I don’t care. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  I started to ask him what he meant, but he waved me off.

  “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Works for me.” The less we talked about Rick, the better, in my opinion. I really hoped he’d decided to fly back to New York. It would make Dad’s visit so much more pleasant.

  Dad set Trouble down, much to the cat’s chagrin, and we spent the next twenty minutes discussing the best way to set up the corner for him. Dad wanted to make it as small and unobtrusive as possible, whereas Vicki insisted on making him as visible as she could. If she could get away with flashing lights and arrows pointing at the top of his head, I’m sure she would have done it.

  I was fine with something in the middle. Dad was something of a celebrity, albeit a small one. He was no Brad Pitt or even Stephen King, but he was a far stretch more well-known than anyone in Pine Hills. People would want to know where to find him, and honestly, he deserved the attention. He was a good man who’d worked hard for what he’d accomplished. He should enjoy it.

  The door opened while we were moving the couch to the back of the room, and Cameron came in, looking harried. His eyes fell on my dad, and he practically ran over a customer to get to us.

  “Have you seen Mr. Wiseman?” he asked, panting the words like he’d run all the way there.

  “Not since last night,” Dad said. I nodded in agreement.

  Cameron ran his fingers through his hair. “This can’t be good.” He looked around the store like he thought Rick might be hiding behind one of the bookshelves.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, figuring it was the polite thing to do, though I was hoping Rick was long gone.

  “I haven’t been able to reach him all day.” Cameron made it sound like not talking to Rick was a tragedy. “In fact, I haven’t heard from him since I left him last night. He was pretty angry and would barely talk to me. I’m afraid he blames me for everything.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Dad said. “If anything, he’s angry at me. I’m the one who told everyone to bother him with their novels, and . . .” He trailed off with a frown and shook his head.

  “I can’t lose this job.” Cameron practically whined it. “I always pick him up in the morning and if he didn’t need a ride, he would have called me. I waited thirty minutes outside that place where he’s staying and he never showed.”

  “Maybe he slept in,” I said.

  Cameron gave me a flat look. “He never sleeps in. Mr. Wiseman is a very precise man, which is why I’m so worried. If he blames me for last night, he might find someone to replace me.”

  “Did you go in and ask for him?” I asked.

  “Well, no.” Cameron flushed. “He doesn’t like it when I pry.”

  Of course he didn’t. Rick had probably spent all night making his precious vanilla latte on his own special machine and had lost track of time. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he were to walk in at any moment, screaming at Cameron for not waiting for another hour for him to decide to mosey on out the door.

  “Let me try to call him,” Dad offered. “Give me one moment.” He stepped aside, taking his cell out of his pocket.

  Cameron started pacing, eyes constantly going to the front door every time it opened, and sometimes when it didn’t. I was worried he was going to pace a hole in the floor, so I moved to block his path, putting on my warmest, friendliest smile. I might not like Rick, but Cameron seemed like a decent guy.

  “How long have you worked for Ri—uh, Mr. Wiseman?” I already knew the answer from my conversation with Dad yesterday, but it seemed like the polite thing to ask.

  “A little over a year,” Cameron said. He looked ready to pop now that he wasn’t pacing.

  “Did you always want to be an assistant to an agent?”

  Cameron gave me one of those “seriously?” looks. “I went to college for literary theory. Didn’t know what to do with it once I got out, so I figured I might try my hand at agenting the next big novel. I like books and it seemed like a good job. I had to start somewhere, so I thought I’d intern with the Wiseman Agency to learn the ropes.”

  I caught something in his voice. “It wasn’t what you expected?”

  “Not exactly.” He sighed. “I thought I’d read contracts, help with rights and whatnot. Instead, all he has me do is fetch his coffee and run errands. I get to answer e-mails now and again, but that’s about it. I don’t think he sees me as anything more than his personal gofer.”

  “So, why not quit? I’m sure you could intern somewhere else.”

  Cameron shrugged. “There’s no guarantee anyone else would take me on. I am learning some things from watching him, at least.” He frowned. “Though now that this has happened, I’m not so sure I’ll have a job anymore.” He groaned. “What am I going to do?”

  “I’m sure it will work out.” I patted him on the arm, and he gave me a strained smile.

  I felt bad for Cameron. Working for Rick Wiseman had to be terrible. I could barely stand to be in the same room as the man, let alone having to get him his coffee day in and day out. I would have either quit or killed the man after a few weeks of him bossing me around.

  Cameron perked up as Dad returned.

  “Any luck?” I asked.

  “Didn’t answer,” he said. He looked down at his phone like it was somehow the reason why Rick wasn’t answering his calls. “I tried three times. I even went as far as to call his office phone, figuring he would have it forwarded, but he still didn’t answer.”

  “So, it’s not just me.” Cameron sounded relieved; then his eyes widened. “What if something happened to him?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said.

  My words didn’t soothe Cameron one bit. He snatched up his own phone, dialed, and then slammed it to his ear hard enough that it had to hurt. He walked to the middle of the room to pace between the stacks, chewing on his thumbnail while he listened to the phone ring.

  “Maybe I should go over there and make sure nothing happened to him,” Dad said, frowning after Cameron.

  “I could do it.” The offer came out of nowhere. I wasn’t even sure why I’d offered, considering my feelings for the man in question. It just sort of popped out of my mouth.

  “You don’t need to do that,” Dad said. “He’s probably just sulking.�
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  “It’s no bother. We aren’t all that busy, and besides, Vicki and Lena have things under control here.” They were both standing downstairs behind the counter, talking. Vicki was holding up flyers, more than likely telling Lena where to hang them up later.

  Dad gave me a skeptical look. “After last night, are you sure you should?”

  “I’ll be fine. He said he was staying at a bed-and-breakfast, right?”

  “Yeah,” Dad said. “I think it’s called Ted and . . .” He frowned.

  “Bettfast,” I supplied. “I know the owners. If Rick doesn’t answer, I can have them check on him for me.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Dad looked worried. “If something’s wrong with him, I should be there.”

  “You have stuff to do here,” I reminded him. “I can be there and back in no time. You’re probably right and he’s just sulking.”

  Dad sighed. “If you’re sure . . .”

  “I am.”

  I so wasn’t.

  The door opened, and for a moment, I was certain Rick had finally arrived. Instead, Rita’s voice floated across the room, sickeningly sweet. “Is he here?” Her eyes fell on where Dad and I stood, and she started our way.

  “I’d best get going,” I said, not wanting to get trapped in a conversation with her, especially since it would likely involve her drooling all over my dad.

  “Be careful, Buttercup.” Dad kissed the top of my head like he always used to do when I was little. He sounded genuinely worried about me.

  “I will.” I headed downstairs, passing Rita by, who didn’t even acknowledge me on her way upstairs, and went to the counter. “I’ll be back soon,” I told Vicki. “I need to check on something.”

  “Okay.” She held out some flyers. “Would you mind hanging some of these up while you’re out?”

  “Sure.” If Rick refused to see me, then I could at least accomplish something useful on my trip.

  I grabbed the flyers, went to the back to grab my purse, and then I was on my way.