What she had noted with these was that each entry was followed by a spare line. What happened to the giver, as she called them, was no longer important to her and she didn’t bother to look anymore to see what fate they were allotted.

Some must deserve their fate she figured. The idea of using the homeless hit after the preacher accosted her. They’d surely wronged many to end up where she found them. Most were alcoholics, which she supposed meant they abandoned a family, a spouse or an employer. They had decided their destiny when they gave into their addiction.

Nem gave no credence to the “disease” excuse. She overcame tragedy herself, so she carried little sympathy for their stories of misfortune. So many autobiographies of the famous, which they sold at Bountiful Books, told the opposite tale; celebrity or business identities who overcame terrible events to follow their path to success.

The morning of the day Nem met him, Diane hadn’t a clue the role she’d play when she agreed to help an agent and an author. How could she suspect a thing because what occurred was unusual, but sounded plausible? Nem knew though, the minute Diane shared the news.

“Hey Lady Writer, when you’re done with tidying the front displays, you can set up for the author presentation tonight. I’m expecting a full house. And hurry it up.”

She said it in her usual drill-sergeant manner and Nem gave her a military-style salute in reply. Not that she was being bossy for real. That’s how Diane talked. According to her, everyone in her home town of New York spoke that way or were accustomed to being spoken to that way.

“Why? There’s nothing scheduled. I only checked yesterday.”

“Yeah, and you would be right until this morning. Seems a fire damaged the original venue. Barnes and Noble three blocks over was due to host but there was a fire last night. The real crazy thing was the only part damaged was where they held the book talks. Can you believe that? His agent was desperate. He’s talked here a few times. Actually, before everything took off for him. They told me he himself suggested us for tonight. Nice guy. A touch cerebral but polite and good with the audience. Least he was before he became a best seller. Steinbeck of our generation, they’ve called him. Let’s hope it hasn’t gone to his head. His latest book hasn’t been selling so well but probably just waiting to take off.”

“Who? Who? Have I read him?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? William Barnes. You know, Suffer Them to Come to Light? Won all the awards? He’s promoting the next release Hidden in the Shadows. Haven’t got to that one.”

Nem’s interest piqued in an instant. The fire sounded suspiciously like fate stepping in to steer this William Barnes in her direction. She’d recalled reading and enjoying his novel too; that was handy. The writing was smart and poetic, but his prose probed intellectual depths she rarely enjoyed. He did it so well, he impressed her. She’d only taken a chance because everyone had been talking about the book, the word-of-mouth incredible.