She understood this as she stood there with William Barnes, at the same moment that she also noticed he’d begun to turn from her.

“I’m sorry, we have to go. Dinner with this one,” he said, gesturing with his thumb in his agent’s direction. He paused, half-turned from her, ready to leave her behind. Their lives not yet knitted together.

Something was wrong!

He smiled at her. “Excuse me, your name again?”

“Me? Oh, Orelia Mason.”

She stopped.

What was she saying?

“Well, sorry, no, that’s not right.”

He gave her that quizzical raised-eyebrow look again.

“What I mean is, that’s my writer’s name. I think. I’m not set on it, but—I kind of thought if I use it in my real life for a few weeks I could see if it sounded good. As a full-time name, I mean.”

He chuckled as he rubbed straightened fingers across his mouth.

Yes, she had his attention back.

“Have I read anything of yours?”

Click-click, clack-clack. Destiny on the track. Here she comes rolling into the station. All aboard for the Success Express.

Not yet, she thought. To him: “Can I ask a favor? Please.”

The rest of their conversation was a formality of fate because the deed had been done. William Barnes was, from this moment, in her life. Her dream, which she didn’t know until now meant everything to her, would come true.

She had already decided she’d reward him too, just as soon as he helped her with her book. If he did the right thing, all would end amazingly for them both. If not, well, as Scarlett O’Hara said, she wouldn’t think about that today. That was for a tomorrow that might not come.

60

William’s short-lived career as a thief began in inauspicious surroundings. He hoped nobody he knew would ever discover what he did and where; the embarrassment would be mortifying.

Another morning stretching toward lunch, watching and waiting until—

Orelia finally stood up, hung her bag over her shoulder and left her table. She’d just downed her second coffee after finishing her breakfast an hour previous and had just called over a passing waiter. The young man stopped next to her and made a note on his pad before retreating inside the café.

He hoped this meant she intended to come back, and if this was the case logic told him this had to be a bathroom break. Perfect. A relief too because William also required a bathroom break. Urgently. But he’d decided he wouldn’t risk leaving his post and had begun to calculate how much success he might have relieving himself into a cup.

She entered the shadowed interior, dodging past a departing customer, and this was William’s signal to move. He pulled down the baseball cap he’d taken to wearing, threw a ten-dollar bill on the table and bolted from the diner. No traffic in sight meant he would be inside her café within twenty seconds. The sprint across the road had him panting as he pushed open the door, keeping his head bowed but his eyes scanning the room with urgency.