“Hey there, I thought you’d left already,” she said, now holding Nem’s hand as if she might run away.

William Barnes turned to face her, and her legs weakened, instant uncontrollable jellification. She was grateful Diane had hold of her hand or she may have stumbled.

“William. Morris. I’d like to introduce you to Nem, who set up everything for you tonight. Nem, meet William and his agent.”

The author smiled that confident, wry smile she’d seen repeatedly over the last forty-five minutes. Her cheeks reddened as he said, “Thanks for saving our bacon. And considering you had no warning, amazing.”

Okay, well here goes. Now she was here, she threw off her nerves. Fate would want her to contribute, she was certain.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so excited to meet you. Pinching myself. I loved Suffer Them to Come to Light. Extraordinary. Inspirational.”

He cocked his head and stared at her for a long moment as if observing an interesting picture. Nem felt exposed as if he knew she’d chosen him, that he held a suspicion she instigated the events which brought him here.

Then he replied, and she saw he hadn’t thought that at all; it was just her imagination. Or guilt.

“Thanks. You have great taste. Really, you’re too kind.”

Even in that small exchange she sensed an intrinsic connection with him. The cogs squeaking to life, click-clacking; the fate train traveling surely along the track.

“No, I’ve understated. Mr. Barnes your writing is wonderful. The rhythm of the sentences. The melody of the words, like a beautiful sonata. You’re the Beethoven of literature. Your first book has transformed my view of writing.”

She stopped there. Maybe she’d gushed too much. It wasn’t completely true either. The novel had been a good read despite the flowery prose, but she had never understood why it had been such a mega best seller. Still, this was the reason she needed him. To understand how he’d managed that kind of success. What was the trick?

He seemed to blush, and as he did he rubbed at his chin with a perplexed look in his eyes.

How easy was this? she thought. Then again, luck was on her side. Click-click. Clack-clack. Fate train coming down the track.

“Wow!” he said, shaking his head. “That’s ah, got to be one of the most amazing things anyone’s said about my books. Can I clone you?”

“I mean it. I just felt compelled to talk to you. A voice in my head. I know this might sound crazy, but it was as if I needed to meet you. You might have altered the course of my life.”

She might have occasionally thought about it, but she’d never believed, deep-down, a hundred-feet down, that she could become an author. The idea of thousands, if not millions of fans was too big a leap. Now though, a seed had been sown, a rope thrown down that hundred feet, and she dearly wanted to grab hold and climb up there. This desire even more powerful than having a child or a husband or her mom alive again.