“So before the cocktails take effect,” he said, “let’s get down to business. Can I add Emily and her assistant to your phone?”

She took it out and handed it over. “Of course.”

Trevor started tapping the screen. “Emily is my assistant, and hers is Edison, and he is incredible. He’ll work with the event planner and publicist to set everything up. How does sometime this month sound?”

“This month …? You’re kidding, right?”

“Not even. It’s true that these things usually need a lot of lead time, but I have a break in my schedule, and a crack team. Edison can do it all—organize the online ticket sales, book the venue, coordinate with the publisher, everything. Each ticket sold is good for two seats at the event—an adult and a kid—and a copy of my latest book, so the sales should be pretty good.”

Pretty good? Her head was spinning. Pretty good.

“What do you say, Cinderella?”

“You are Prince Charming,” she said.

PART THREE

It was clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of their habitat, breeding and multiplying and clearly lacking any strong hand to keep them down.

—AGATHA CHRISTIE, THE CLOCKS

16

We need to talk about your daughter,” Natalie said to Peach the moment he showed up in the morning.

He grinned, always intrigued by her direct manner. “My favorite subject.” He went around to the back of the truck and unloaded some of the gear he’d need for the day—including a saw for the attic beam he was replacing. The rotted one was downright scary, its insides powdered by termites. “What’s up?”

“She wrote a letter to Trevor Dashwood, the author.”

“Kid likes writing letters. She does that a lot, mostly to writers and musicians she likes. It’s cool, right? I’d rather have her writing letters than getting addicted to a phone and forgetting the rest of the world exists.” He paused, glanced over at her, then did a double take. She looked different today. Her eyes sparkled even brighter than usual, and her smile was quicker. She had shiny hair, polished makeup, a fitted turquoise dress, high heels. Could be his imagination, but she seemed to be upping her game.

He liked it when the sadness lifted, even briefly, no matter the reason. “So how’d you know Dorothy wrote to the guy?”

“He came to see me last night.”

Peach frowned. “Came here? The writer who’s so famous no one can talk to him?”

“Apparently he listens to Dorothy. He was really moved by her letter. She told him the store was in trouble and asked him to come for a book signing.”

“No kidding.” So that was why Natalie seemed different this morning. “What did the famous author say?”