She returned the book to its slot and quickly scanned the ones next to it. Garp was not there. She assumed it too was “buried in the basement,” but said nothing. She wanted to ask about his rarest books, but decided to lose interest.

“Did you enjoy dinner last night?” he asked.

She laughed and moved away from the shelves. “Oh yes. I’ve never had dinner with so many writers. We tend to keep to ourselves, you know?”

“I know. In your honor, everybody behaved. Believe me, it’s not always that civilized.”

“And why is that?”

“The nature of the breed. Mix together some fragile egos, booze, maybe some politics, and it usually gets rowdier.”

“I can’t wait. When’s the next party?”

“Who knows with that bunch. Noelle mentioned a dinner party in a couple of weeks. She enjoyed your company.”

“Same here. She’s lovely.”

“She’s a lot of fun and she’s very good at what she does. You should pop in her store and have a look.”

“I’ll do that, though I’m not in the market for the high-end stuff.”

He laughed and said, “Well, watch out. She’s very proud of her inventory.”

“I’m meeting Serena Roach for coffee tomorrow before the signing. You’ve met her?”

“Sure. She’s been here twice. She’s pretty intense but nice enough. She tours with her boyfriend and her publicist.”

“An entourage?”

“I suppose. It’s not that unusual. She has battled drugs and appears to be somewhat fragile. Life on the road is unsettling for a lot of writers and they need the security.”

“She can’t travel by herself?”

Bruce laughed and seemed hesitant to gossip. “I could tell you a lot of stories, okay? Some sad, some hilarious, all colorful. Let’s save them for another day, perhaps another long dinner.”

“Is it the same boyfriend? The reason I ask is that I’m reading her latest and her character struggles with men, as well as drugs. The author seems to know her material.”

“Don’t know, but on her last two tours she had the same boyfriend.”

“Poor girl is getting roughed up by the critics.”

“Yes, and she’s not handling it too well. Her publicist called this morning to make sure I don’t mention dinner afterward. They’re trying to keep her away from the wine bottle.”

“And the tour is just starting?”

“We’re the third stop. Could be another disaster. I guess she could always quit, like you.”

“I highly recommend it.”

A clerk stuck her head in the window and said, “Sorry to disturb, but Scott Turow is on the phone.”

“I’d better take that,” he said.

“See you tomorrow,” Mercer said and walked to the door.

“Thanks for signing the books.”

“I’ll sign all of my books you buy.”

8.

Three days later, Mercer waited until dusk and walked to the beach. She removed her sandals and put them into a small shoulder bag. She headed south along the water’s edge. The tide was low, the beach wide and deserted but for an occasional couple with their dog. Twenty minutes later, she passed a row of high-rise condos and headed for the Ritz-Carlton next door. At the boardwalk she rinsed her feet, put on the sandals, strolled by the empty pool, and went inside, where she found Elaine waiting at a table in the elegant bar.