smoothly until then.
In the small bookstore that is hosting Robert McClore for the evening, there is a palpable frisson that traverses the room as the author appears, walking slowly toward the podium. He thanks the special-events organizer at the bookstore for introducing him, clears his throat, and starts to read.
Kit, seated between Edie and Charlie, smiles. God, he’s good, she thinks to herself. His voice is low and mellifluous, as he reads slowly, bringing the characters to life, pausing from time to time and looking up from the pages to catch the eye of someone in the audience, a couple of times Kit’s, and she is surprised that her heart leaps a little.
But he is an attractive man, she thinks. He is so much older than her and yet he is someone she would have noticed on the street, even if she had not known who he was. She sneaks a glance to the side, and sees Tracy, rapt, and the other women in the audience, strangers to her, watching him with half-smiles on their faces.
They all want to know him, she thinks. And I do! With that, she closes her eyes, the better to lose herself in his soft, seductive voice.
“I know that you’re a big Democratic Party supporter”—Tracy sits forward earnestly in her chair—“and in fact you were one of the main reasons Bob Riverside is now in office, so I was surprised when you made Troy Jenkins, the Democratic congress-man in A Life Not Taken , the villain. Particularly when the book you wrote immediately prior to that, Safe House , demonized the Democratic mayor. Can you tell us a bit about your choice of politics for your characters, and how that may conflict with your own personal beliefs?”
Robert smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Good question, and although I tend to avoid talking politics at my book readings—I apologize in advance to any Republicans sitting in the audience—it raises an interesting point about how much of yourself and your own beliefs you should put into your writing.”
As he talks, Kit looks at Tracy in surprise. Kit hasn’t read A Life Not Taken , hadn’t read any of Robert McClore’s books before working for him, and still has not managed his entire collection. She had no idea Tracy knew his books so well, but look at her! Listen to her! She’s not just listening to Robert McClore, she’s having a discussion with him, asking him more questions and he is clearly appreciative.
Kit turns to see Charlie looking at her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “Who knew?” she appears to be saying, and Kit shrugs. How odd, she thinks, that Tracy never said anything before.
The line of people waiting for their books to be signed snakes back through the bookstore. In a small town such as Highfield, with an event as exciting as a Robert McClore reading, many people have turned out, some who have not seen one another for years, and there is a buzz of excited chatter as people run into old neighbors, old friends, people they haven’t realized they missed until they see them tonight.
And many who have known Robert. Not friends, but people who have been on the periphery of his life, people who have turned up to reestablish a connection with him, all of whom want to talk to him, to explain how they know him, or knew him, how their grandson once mowed his lawn, or they met him thirty years ago at a party.
Robert is gracious with everyone. He greets each of them warmly and effusively, as if they are guests in his home, and Kit, standing on the sidelines with Tracy, Charlie and Edie, is impressed.
“Why doesn’t he do this more often?” Charlie asks. “I’d always heard he was a recluse, but look at him! He’s chatting to everyone! He’s not the slightest bit how I’d expected.”
“But I told you he was charming,” Kit says. “Although you’re right. I’d also thought he was overwhelmed by large crowds. What do you think, Edie? You’re the one who knows him best.”
“You do?” Tracy looks at her keenly. “How?”
“I
In the small bookstore that is hosting Robert McClore for the evening, there is a palpable frisson that traverses the room as the author appears, walking slowly toward the podium. He thanks the special-events organizer at the bookstore for introducing him, clears his throat, and starts to read.
Kit, seated between Edie and Charlie, smiles. God, he’s good, she thinks to herself. His voice is low and mellifluous, as he reads slowly, bringing the characters to life, pausing from time to time and looking up from the pages to catch the eye of someone in the audience, a couple of times Kit’s, and she is surprised that her heart leaps a little.
But he is an attractive man, she thinks. He is so much older than her and yet he is someone she would have noticed on the street, even if she had not known who he was. She sneaks a glance to the side, and sees Tracy, rapt, and the other women in the audience, strangers to her, watching him with half-smiles on their faces.
They all want to know him, she thinks. And I do! With that, she closes her eyes, the better to lose herself in his soft, seductive voice.
“I know that you’re a big Democratic Party supporter”—Tracy sits forward earnestly in her chair—“and in fact you were one of the main reasons Bob Riverside is now in office, so I was surprised when you made Troy Jenkins, the Democratic congress-man in A Life Not Taken , the villain. Particularly when the book you wrote immediately prior to that, Safe House , demonized the Democratic mayor. Can you tell us a bit about your choice of politics for your characters, and how that may conflict with your own personal beliefs?”
Robert smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Good question, and although I tend to avoid talking politics at my book readings—I apologize in advance to any Republicans sitting in the audience—it raises an interesting point about how much of yourself and your own beliefs you should put into your writing.”
As he talks, Kit looks at Tracy in surprise. Kit hasn’t read A Life Not Taken , hadn’t read any of Robert McClore’s books before working for him, and still has not managed his entire collection. She had no idea Tracy knew his books so well, but look at her! Listen to her! She’s not just listening to Robert McClore, she’s having a discussion with him, asking him more questions and he is clearly appreciative.
Kit turns to see Charlie looking at her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “Who knew?” she appears to be saying, and Kit shrugs. How odd, she thinks, that Tracy never said anything before.
The line of people waiting for their books to be signed snakes back through the bookstore. In a small town such as Highfield, with an event as exciting as a Robert McClore reading, many people have turned out, some who have not seen one another for years, and there is a buzz of excited chatter as people run into old neighbors, old friends, people they haven’t realized they missed until they see them tonight.
And many who have known Robert. Not friends, but people who have been on the periphery of his life, people who have turned up to reestablish a connection with him, all of whom want to talk to him, to explain how they know him, or knew him, how their grandson once mowed his lawn, or they met him thirty years ago at a party.
Robert is gracious with everyone. He greets each of them warmly and effusively, as if they are guests in his home, and Kit, standing on the sidelines with Tracy, Charlie and Edie, is impressed.
“Why doesn’t he do this more often?” Charlie asks. “I’d always heard he was a recluse, but look at him! He’s chatting to everyone! He’s not the slightest bit how I’d expected.”
“But I told you he was charming,” Kit says. “Although you’re right. I’d also thought he was overwhelmed by large crowds. What do you think, Edie? You’re the one who knows him best.”
“You do?” Tracy looks at her keenly. “How?”
“I
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