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Nope, she hadn’t added wrong. The day before had been the highest Saturday sales in months. Not surprising to see a rise in sales during tourist season, but these numbers were incredible.
Melissa really could hold down the fort. Which was good because Carly’s life was about to get a little busier, and knowing she could trust the young girl was a big relief.
Not only had the store done record sales, but everything was restocked and clean. Melissa had even repositioned the sales merchandise to be front and center when visitors entered the store. Carly had always been hesitant about displaying sale items that way for fear they would cannibalize new product sales, but it had worked in reducing the extra old stock.
She counted the float for the day just as her phone chimed with a new text message. Picking it up, she expected to see her morning text from Oliver, but Sebastian had beat him to it. Carly’s disappointment only reconfirmed her feelings for both men.
Thanks again for inviting me yesterday. I had a great time.
Carly put the phone down without answering. She’d struggled to have a fun time with the awkward tension between the two men and the conflict she was facing. On one hand, she had Sebastian, a man who was clearly attracted to her and would act on it if Carly opened that door, and on the other hand, she had Oliver, a man who sent her mixed signals and was afraid to open himself up to a new relationship. Unfortunately, she had to follow her heart, not theirs, and hers was always firmly with Oliver.
Her phone chimed again and this time it was him.
Was thinking we need to get started on the float this weekend. Hope you have a full crew.
Once again, not a declaration-of-love text, but he was right. They did need to get started on her design if she hoped to have the float ready for the parade in three weeks.
Assembling a team now.
She texted back, just as one said team member walked through the door.
“We need to get this author to agree to a signing,” Rachel said, clutching her copy ofLove at Seaas though she was afraid someone would steal it from her.
“God morning to you too,” Carly said with a tight laugh. “Do you go anywhere without that book?” She was only half kidding. Her friend really was obsessed. It wasn’t healthy.
“I’ve read it twice already. I can’t believe I have to wait so long for the next one.” She pulled out a stool at the counter and sat. “But maybe we wouldn’t have to wait so long if we could convince the author to give us exclusive ARCs,” she said, her eyes widening. “But to do that, we’d need to know who she is.”
“I told you, she—orhe—is a recluse. They refuse to do any appearances or interviews or appear at any signings or book club chats.”
Rachel huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. These are bestselling novels. The publisher should force her, him, whomever it is, to do promotion.”
Carly shrugged. “I guess the publisher is happy that the books are selling so well and the mystery of the author’s identity only adds to the hype.”
Rachel eyed her from behind green-rimmed cat-eye glasses that Carly knew were nonprescription. She owned a similar pair. “Doyouknow who it is?”
“Nope,” Carly said, reaching into the box behind the counter and stacking more copies near the register. By noon, they’d all be gone. It was still baffling to her how quickly they flew off the shelf.
“Oh, come on. You mean to tell me the publisher hasn’t given you any clues?”
“None. The books arrive from the press just like all the others. I stock them. They sell.”
Rachel’s lips pursed. “And you’re not at all curious about who it could be?”
“I respect the author’s right to anonymity. I get it. I’ve seen the way authors can be tortured on social media. For as many fans as they have, there are just as many critics. And even the fans can get crazy. I saw one author having to defend her release schedule because four books a year wasn’t fast enough for her avid fan base.” Carly shook her head. As a lifetime reader, she’d never fully understood the world of publishing, but she sympathized with authors with impossible deadlines and reader expectations.
Y.C. Salwert was right to keep their identity a secret, for no other reason than to avoid being stalked by Rachel.
“It has to be someone local, though...”
Rachel was obviously not giving up. She tapped her long, manicured fingers against the counter, thinking. “Do you know anyone in town who writes other types of books or articles on the subject?”
“Besides you?” Carly asked with a raised eyebrow.
Rachel scoffed. “I wish I could write this well, and believe me, if I was Y.C. Salwert, I’d be screaming it from the top deck of my luxury yacht. Come on, think. Who could it be? You went to school here—was there anyone in your English class with exceptional writing talent?”
“Not that I can remember. Other than this Y.C. Salwert, the only other local star is Francine Cumins, who writes the children’s books.”
“Could be her, I guess.” Rachel bit an acrylic thumbnail. “And it would make sense that she wouldn’t want anyone knowing her identity. These romances aren’t exactly PG... Maybe she’s worried about her fan base...”
