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Chapter 33
“Well, here we are!” Alison said a touch too cheerfully as she pulled her car into a parallel parking spot along Valentine Bay’s main street.
Caroline, her agent, took one last, long drag on her cigarette before putting it out in the center console ashtray. She patted her elegant chignon as she let her gaze linger languidly on the view of downtown visible from the front window. It wasn’t like it was necessary; even after an entire day of traveling, not one strand of Caroline’s hair was out of place. It wouldn’t dare.
Alison had always been a little intimidated by her agent. Her elegant manner, her dry wit, her way of expressing volumes with one raised eyebrow. Caroline was a firestorm of barely-contained energy in the form of a sardonic, restrained fifty-year-old woman.
She was, by no coincidence, the most powerful theatrical agent in New York, and Alison was unleashing her on the streets…well, street of Valentine Bay.
“Charming,” Caroline remarked dryly, in that way she had that left Alison unsure if she was conveying sincerity or sarcasm.
Alison hopped out of the car, as well, and the two women walked into the bar and grill. As they took their seats, Alison opened her menu been said, “I hope you’re hungry. The food’s really good here.”
“Darling, if they can mix me a decent dry martini, that’s all I really care about.”
“Well… I don’t know about that, but I’m pretty sure that they can pop the top on a decent bottle of beer.”
Caroline sighed, the picture of long-suffering. “As I suspected.”
The waitress came up to their table, pad and pencil in hand. “Hi, there! I’m Beth, and I’ll be serving you this afternoon. And what can I get for you today?”
Caroline looked up at her. “Martini?”
Beth shook her head. “No, sorry. We don’t do mixed drinks. But we’ve got a great selection of local microbrews, if you’re interested.”
Alison didn’t think Caroline would be interested in a million years, but to her surprise, Caroline replied, “When in Rome, I suppose. Yes, dear, that will be fine. Bring me whatever you recommend.”
“Make that two,” Alison added, stunned.
The side of Caroline’s mouth twitched in the smallest ghost of a smile, which was her equivalent of a broad grin. “You see, Alison? You’re not the only one who can adapt.”
“Apparently. I’m impressed.”
“The question is, can you adapt back?”
Alison chuckled. She should’ve known that the whole exchange was leading up to an object lesson. “I think the real question is, do I want to?”
Caroline raised her eyebrow. “Indeed.”
Beth returned and set two frosty steins in front of them, filled with rich, dark ale. Alison raised hers with a wink. “Cheers, Caroline.”
They finished their drinks, the topic of conversation turning to lighter topics, small talk and catching up on mutual acquaintances.
When their mugs had been drained, Alison tucked a collection of bills on the table, over Caroline’s protests. “Caroline, please. You’re my guest.”
Caroline smiled in her understated way. “A self-invited one.”
Alison shook her head as they stepped back out into the muted sunlight. “Not at all. I’m shocked, obviously, that you’d hop on a plane to come out and check up on me. But honored.”
Caroline looked up and down the street. “So, how does this place compare to New York in the single most critical way?”
Alison tilted her head to the side. “What way’s that?”
“Shopping.”
“I have just the place.”
Caroline headed toward the car but Alison stopped her. “No, we don’t need to drive. It’s only a few storefronts down.”
