under the pen name of Vanessa Scarlett. Vanessa has written what I think will be the breakout 'chick-lit' novel of the year, Girl Meets Fifth Avenue . I couldn't put it down, Vanessa. It was simply the best book I have read in a long time!" They exchanged glances as if they had a secret no one else knew. As much as Martha seemed to slough me off as a bug on her windshield, she seemed to idolize Vanessa.
"If you are a fan of vampire fiction," Martha said, " then we have Mr. Damien Perez, author of the Camazotz Chronicles , a gripping set of books about Mexican vampires." Ruby Green sat up in her folding chair and flashed what I would have to call an attempt at a seductive smile at Damien Perez, the man in the black turtleneck.
"Next to Señor Perez, ladies and gentlemen, we have our very favorite diet buster Pattie Jackson, the owner of PattieCake's Bakery. She will be discussing her cookbook and how she makes all of those delicious baked goods. She also brought us some samples of her exquisite work for you to enjoy tonight." The crowd oohed and clapped.
Martha's gaze shifted to me. "If all of that wasn't enough, we also have blog writer Becky Livingston to talk to us about helpful hints in the home." She turned back to the gathered group. "Let's have a big hand for all of our authors!"
The crowd clapped as Pattie whispered into my ear, "Doesn't that old cow know your name, yet, Betsy?"
"Guess not," I whispered back, smiling at my aunt, who was trying to get the crowd into a standing ovation. Nothing like having relatives in the audience.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Oscar Larry, who sat at the other end of the table, was the first presenter of the evening. I knew we were in trouble when he started setting up a laptop and projector to show some of his research. He also passed out little coasters with the name of his store in San Antonio, "Sky Lights – the ultimate resource for your extraterrestrial needs."
"Even though we think of UFOs as something from second-rate creature features on the midnight movies, they are real, mysterious objects that have been observed in our skies since the earliest days of our recorded history," he intoned. "Tonight I am so pleased to get to share with you all of my scientific observations and extensive resources on the subject."
Did that mean what I thought it meant? Did Martha tell any of the other authors there would be a time limit on their presentations? I guess she never actually gave me a limit, just a suggestion there would be no time for me. This could be a long night. I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and started texting my dad. If I was going to run late, I needed to let him know. Judging by the median age of our audience, running late may not work too well with them, either. We definitely had some eight o'clock bedtime folks here.
My phone lit up with an incoming text. I had turned off the sound so no one listening to Oscar Larry's droning on would realize I was involved in a conversation elsewhere. I expected it to be a text from my father griping at me for extending his babysitting time, but instead it was from Leo Fitzpatrick in Dallas:
Betsy. Tried to call you, but you weren't home. Have you come to a decision?
Oh boy. I did have some thoughts on the matter, but I didn't know if you could get in trouble with the phone company for texting four-letter words. This was it. I could ask him about the woman who answered the phone, but if I did, what would he think of me? It wasn't like we were living in the same town or anything, and it wasn't like we were serious enough to warrant not seeing other people. But still, I felt cheated on somehow.
I had not been involved with a man in quite a while, and I needed to feel safe in my first jump into the dating pool. I had already lived with a guy who had betrayed my trust, and even though I felt I was past all that, I still had these little nagging doubts in the back of my head that I really wasn't good enough. Look at tonight
"If you are a fan of vampire fiction," Martha said, " then we have Mr. Damien Perez, author of the Camazotz Chronicles , a gripping set of books about Mexican vampires." Ruby Green sat up in her folding chair and flashed what I would have to call an attempt at a seductive smile at Damien Perez, the man in the black turtleneck.
"Next to Señor Perez, ladies and gentlemen, we have our very favorite diet buster Pattie Jackson, the owner of PattieCake's Bakery. She will be discussing her cookbook and how she makes all of those delicious baked goods. She also brought us some samples of her exquisite work for you to enjoy tonight." The crowd oohed and clapped.
Martha's gaze shifted to me. "If all of that wasn't enough, we also have blog writer Becky Livingston to talk to us about helpful hints in the home." She turned back to the gathered group. "Let's have a big hand for all of our authors!"
The crowd clapped as Pattie whispered into my ear, "Doesn't that old cow know your name, yet, Betsy?"
"Guess not," I whispered back, smiling at my aunt, who was trying to get the crowd into a standing ovation. Nothing like having relatives in the audience.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Oscar Larry, who sat at the other end of the table, was the first presenter of the evening. I knew we were in trouble when he started setting up a laptop and projector to show some of his research. He also passed out little coasters with the name of his store in San Antonio, "Sky Lights – the ultimate resource for your extraterrestrial needs."
"Even though we think of UFOs as something from second-rate creature features on the midnight movies, they are real, mysterious objects that have been observed in our skies since the earliest days of our recorded history," he intoned. "Tonight I am so pleased to get to share with you all of my scientific observations and extensive resources on the subject."
Did that mean what I thought it meant? Did Martha tell any of the other authors there would be a time limit on their presentations? I guess she never actually gave me a limit, just a suggestion there would be no time for me. This could be a long night. I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and started texting my dad. If I was going to run late, I needed to let him know. Judging by the median age of our audience, running late may not work too well with them, either. We definitely had some eight o'clock bedtime folks here.
My phone lit up with an incoming text. I had turned off the sound so no one listening to Oscar Larry's droning on would realize I was involved in a conversation elsewhere. I expected it to be a text from my father griping at me for extending his babysitting time, but instead it was from Leo Fitzpatrick in Dallas:
Betsy. Tried to call you, but you weren't home. Have you come to a decision?
Oh boy. I did have some thoughts on the matter, but I didn't know if you could get in trouble with the phone company for texting four-letter words. This was it. I could ask him about the woman who answered the phone, but if I did, what would he think of me? It wasn't like we were living in the same town or anything, and it wasn't like we were serious enough to warrant not seeing other people. But still, I felt cheated on somehow.
I had not been involved with a man in quite a while, and I needed to feel safe in my first jump into the dating pool. I had already lived with a guy who had betrayed my trust, and even though I felt I was past all that, I still had these little nagging doubts in the back of my head that I really wasn't good enough. Look at tonight
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