Chapter 2: The After-Party

Lola Cassidy’s feet hurt. She had chosen to wear high heels, in deference to the occasion and, if she were honest, because they made her feel sexy. No one would ever get her to admit to that bit of lunacy, though, which was why she had chosen to remain seated behind the table where the book signings had been taking place. She could hide her stockinged feet, sans shoes, under the tablecloth that stopped barely an inch from the floor. Thank goodness the organizers of this shindig had had the foresight to be extravagant in their decorations.

Silver Lake’s annual Arts Awards Ceremony had been a resounding success as usual, with bloggers being the featured artists. The Blogbusters portion of the event had been a hit, After the very formal ceremony, full of speeches that ran the gamut from stuffy to sensational, there had been breakout sessions where folks could visit the booths or, in the case of writers, the tables set up for them to autograph and sell their work. That had been the longest part of the day, and now they had all happily proceeded to the banquet room of the town hall for food and drinks and dancing.

It had been five years since she had moved to this sleepy little town, though ‘sleepy’ was no longer the best word to describe it. It had grown from a comfortable, boutique-style town to an assured, happening larger town itching to call itself a metropolis. With a new gated community and two higher-end suburban enclaves going up to the south and east of it, the town chose to grow to meet the needs of the hip new people who were now moving to live within its limits. She herself would be moving into one of those neighborhoods soon.

Lola’s blog, where she published her stories, serial-style -- in the manner of Charles Dickens -- was one of the most popular fiction writing blogs out there. It was still amazing to her, three years in, how many fans she had amassed in that time. And she was glad she had followed through on her plan to sell the stories as full-length novels when they were complete. She had a ready-made reader base, fans who all miraculously bought everything she wrote, whether they’d read it previously or not, as well. She was pretty busy with her blog, her writing, and answering all the fan mail she received daily from all over the world.

“Lola, aren’t you coming to eat?”

Ben Rickles, the town’s premier gardener and landscape artist, paused by the table and smiled down at her. He was a charming widower, a little older than her, with a large following of his own. Ben gave classes in horticulture at his garden center, and he and his two sons were responsible for many of the beautiful landscapes and outdoor living spaces in town and in the new communities on its outskirts.

“I am,” she answered him with a wry smile, “as soon I can feel my feet again.”

“Ah!” His gray eyes twinkled. “You forgot the emergency sandals, did you?”

“I sure did, Ben,” she admitted with a rueful smile. “I’ll be right in.”

“I’ll save you some of the quiche I made,” he said with a conspiratorial wink.

Lola laughed. Ben’s quiches were notorious for their spiciness. She was sure he wouldn’t have to work too hard to save her any, since not too many folk liked that much of a kick in their quiche.

“Thanks, Ben.”

She watched him step away, nodding to a fan who greeted him. She loved how comfortable she felt as a member of this community. It was what she needed right now, especially with no family close by and no desire to move closer to them. There was something to be said for striking out on her own, even if it had taken her almost thirty years to do it. The sense of freedom was immense and it wasn’t something she would willingly give up.

She looked toward the door as it opened and watched as a group of people walked in, among them a tall, strikingly handsome man whose eyes immediately caught and held hers. She looked away, unwilling to engage with anyone else. Clearly it was time to move. Pulling her shoes closer with her left foot, she watched the stranger walk over to where she sat and she recalled having seen him earlier at the signing. He had had the required three books for her to sign, and though nothing about what he had said to her had been especially noteworthy, she was still struck by the fact of his presence in her line.

She had never known men to be especially interested in the romances she wrote, even the ones with a healthy dose of suspense. Yet this guy was clearly a diehard fan. She wondered if he was the man who left comments on every installment of her stories on her blog. It was certainly possible. But if he were, why was he here again?

“Ah, getting ready to go in for a meal?” he asked, coming to stand before her again as she leaned down to put on her shoes.

She fought not to roll her eyes at him. What made him think she wanted to talk to him again? Did she look like she needed a companion or something? She didn’t have a problem being friendly with her fans at signings, but she wasn't interested in going beyond that. And this guy’s vibe said he wanted more. She wasn’t giving him that.

“Yes.” A clipped response might go some way towards helping him take the hint and move along.

“Great! I’ll go in with you.”

She shook her head. This guy obviously couldn’t read the signs she was sending that she didn’t want him around. She’d have to give him a more pointed brush off. She hated being rude, but she just wasn’t in the mood for this right now.

“Please, don’t wait for me. I need to make a pit stop first.”

She stood as she said that, taking her handbag with her, and headed towards the ladies' room, leaving him standing at the table. He made her feel winded, even though she hadn’t walked any faster than normal. She did her business, smiled at the woman who came in as she was exiting the stall and answered politely when the woman said she really liked the last series she had just begun about the family of cops.

“Thank you very much. I’m glad you liked them.”

She washed her hands, touched up her lipstick and blotted her nose and forehead with a paper towel, before leaving the restroom and heading toward the banquet hall. Inside, the live band was giving them their money’s worth and some people were already dancing. Others still milled about the tables getting food. She went toward the table where Ben stood and he smiled at her approach.