Page 27 of Christmas By The Book

I stepped back behind the table, where an older woman was going through the books. All at once, she grabbed one from the bestseller pile, and whipped it out.

“Is this you?” she demanded, stabbing her finger at the cover model on the page.

I stared at it for a moment. Damn, yeah, I could remember doing that shoot. I had been covered in tattoos, and grown out my facial hair a little for it at the request of the photographer, but there was no denying it was me.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, dropping my voice slightly. I didn’t know how Jorja would take finding out about my work as a model on top of everything else. I didn’t want her to feel like I had been keeping anything from her, but at the same time, I knew it was bound to feel like a betrayal.

“Whoa,” the woman muttered, staring down at the book and then back up at me. “You’re a model?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get your autograph?” she asked. “I’ll take this book. If you sign it.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

But, as I spoke, a bulb went off in my mind.

“Actually, I’m not signing anything now,” I replied, pulling my hand away from the book. “But I’m planning a fundraising dinner tonight, if you’d like to meet me there instead.”

I knew it was a long shot. Hell, I doubted it was even going to work, but I had to throw something out there, something to try and help Jorja in the face of everything she was going through. I couldn’t imagine how difficult this was for her, and if I could use my tiny hint of celebrity for something good, then that would count for something, right?

The woman eyed me for a long moment, trying to figure out if she believed me. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had just laughed in my face and told me that I must have thought a lot of myself to believe that she would be willing to hand over any money to see me again.

“You’re a model, right?” she repeated.

I nodded. It was true—just about. It might not have been my main profession, but it was part of what I did for a living, at least back on the West Coast.

“I think I can make it, then,” she replied, her eyes flashing with interest.

“If you have any friends who’d like to attend, we only have a few seats to spare,” I told her. “But they’re limited. If you want a place there, you’ll have to act quickly.”

She grinned. I knew how important it was to make an event sound like the most exclusive, most exciting thing in the world, and I could tell she was already buying it. I mean, not that there was a lot of competition for big events in Mastin Falls, but still.

“I’ll see if I can find anyone else who’s interested in coming,” she replied, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Where can I find the information about it?”

“It’ll be posted on the social media for the store later today,” I told her, gesturing behind me to the Bookshelf.

“Good,” she muttered, and she pulled out her phone, tapping at the screen rapidly. “I’ll see if there’s anyone else who’d be interested.”

She wandered away from the stalls, and I watched as she went, feeling a tinge of hope in the base of my spine. I glanced around, and, inside, I could see Jorja, still hunched over, trying to pull herself together in the face of everything that had just happened. I pushed the door open, and she glanced up when she heard me coming in.

“Oh, hi,” she muttered, wiping away her tears quickly. I wished she didn’t feel like she had to hide that part of herself from me, but it was clearly a learned habit, putting aside those heavy emotions so other people didn’t have to deal with them.

“You okay?” I asked her.

She nodded, then shook her head. “No, not really,” she admitted. “I just thought... oh, I thought that maybe people were actually going to turn up to this thing, you know? I thought the community was going to turn out for me. Or for my grandmother. But I...” She glanced outside again, shoulders slumping. “I guess I was naïve.”

“Hey,” I murmured, catching her head in mine. “I... I think I have an idea. An idea to make this all work.”

She lifted her head and stared at me for a moment, incredulity written all over her face.

“You do?” she replied softly. She wanted to believe me, of course she did, but after everything she had been through, I couldn’t blame her for thinking that it might just be another in a long line of let-downs.

“Yeah, I do,” I replied. “If we can book out a restaurant for tonight...”

She furrowed her brow. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, shaking my head. “I’ll get it all set up. That Italian place should do. Just meet me there, okay? Later this evening?”