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Mrs. Johnson starts laughing. “Oh Zoey, you can talk about smelling the books. You won’t hurt that old man’s feelings. He lost his sense of smell, not his sense of humor.”
I let out a laugh and end up smiling. “Thanks, Mrs. Johnson.”
She wishes me good luck before wandering off to say hello to her friends. I’m suddenly reminded that not all the townspeople feed off the curses and Durand hatred. Some just generally enjoy living here.
At some point in my life, I did too.
I’m early to the event. October is busy placing the cupcakes on a glass cake tier, setting up the sweets table and trying to fend off her cousin Benny from eating everything.
Empty, fold-out chairs face the podium. I greet a few attendees as they enter, then do my best to avoid Effie Brambilla. Every time she locks eyes with me, I duck behind a different merch display. Right now, I’m huddled near a shelf of Gryffindor snow globes.
My strategy has worked thus far, but more people start to fill the bookstore—and I really shouldn’t hide from everyone.
“Zoey.”
I jump at Angela Brambilla’s voice and sudden appearance right beside me. Jesus Christ. She finds me pretending to be interested in a superhero-themed cookbook. “There you are…did I scare you?”
“Uh…sort of…” I close the cookbook. “What’s up?” Be casual. Cool.
She skirts over my awkwardness with a breeze. Definitely a Brambilla. “I have a question about your book. Who’s the protagonist?”
“Um…” I rest an elbow on the shelf with the snow globe. “You know, that part is still in the brainstorming session.”
She squints. “The protagonist?” Before I can get another word in, her face lights up. “That’s perfect! Because I was thinking I could really be the star of the book—”
“Colt!” I suddenly spot my brother towards the back of the store. He’s lingering next to a life-size cut out of the Mandalorian. My first instinct was to send out an audible SOS by yelling his name—great.
The chairs are now half-occupied, and the attendees can see part of my body through the shelves. I know this because I can see them. I’m not that big of an idiot.
And everyone is looking at me.
Ignoring the heat of their gazes, I wave my brother over. What is Colt doing here? It’s late at night. I’d think he’s supposed to be in the lighthouse. Especially since he hasn’t left since the Lock Ceremony.
He doesn’t move. Not even as I exude total desperation.
“Sorry, Angela.” I’m about to excuse myself when she gasps at her cellphone.
“There are photos of her.” She swipes through the pics. “Oh my God…”
“Who?” I hold my breath. It can’t be Augustine Anders, can it? Angela doesn’t even known about our search.
“Who?” Angela lifts her gaze. “Don’t you know what’s going on today?”
Is this a trick question? I answer with some confidence, “My book event.”
“In the world, Zoey.” She makes a disgruntled face. “Lily Calloway and Loren Hale are having a vow renewal ceremony. Celebrity Crush is posting pics of her dress. It’s only been trending on Twitter all day.”
I don’t live under a rock. I did hear that arguably the most famous couple in the world would be renewing their vows, all after the FanCon tour abruptly ended. Their children are closer to our age, but the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts became famous decades ago after a huge scandal with Lily Calloway. They aren’t actors or anything.
Just really rich people.
The kind of wealth that doesn’t even exist in Mistpoint Harbor.
“I’ve been preparing for my event, not scrolling through Twitter,” I lie to Angela, but I do love that she’s more interested in celebrities than Mistpoint gossip. While she’s distracted, I slide past Angela and approach my brother in the stuffy back corner.
More hidden behind the podium and impatient attendees.
Colt is swigging from a flask. His body still gaunt. Hair unkempt. “Congrats, sis. What an accomplishment.” With the flask in hand, he points towards the banner, barely visible from here. “I can’t believe we’re going to have an author in the family.”
“I sense the sarcasm,” I say dryly.
“You think?” He swigs again.
He knows my book is fake.
Parry must’ve told him, and I open my mouth to respond, only for my phone to buzz. My backpack-purse stands out amongst my plaid skirt and blazer, so I left it in the Jeep.
My phone is in my bra. Buzzing.
Colt sees the blinking light in my blouse, then rolls his eyes. “You answering that?”
“I wasn’t going to.” But it won’t stop buzzing. I curse under my breath and dig into my blouse. Colt is neither amused nor salty. He seems curious at the mystery caller.
I tuck my phone closer to my chest as I peek at the texts.
Georgia: We really need you back this weekend.
Georgia: Spring Break rush is coming, then it’ll be wedding season. We’re fully booked the next two months.
