Laura went into the kitchen. What was a pinch of sugar? She poured coffee into the two cups and added a full teaspoon to hers and about a half of one to Cassidy’s. She didn’t see the point, but whatever.

Cassidy sipped it immediately and nodded. “Perfect.”

“So? The company?”

“Oh. Family-owned. My grandfather started it. My father and brother followed. I went to college—business and marketing—and made a few changes.”

“Like?”

“Well, expanded it quite a bit, for one. We’ve now got ten hubs around the Metroplex. My brother manages the crews, hires and fires. I manage the corporate office downtown. That’s where everything is coordinated. We keep the servers there still. I haven’t outsourced that yet.” At Laura’s blank stare, she continued. “We’ve got a pretty extensive online system for making appointments.”

“Are there that many people who have AC problems?”

“Not just that, but yearly maintenance scheduling. And new homes. We have contracts with several of the major builders in the city to install new units.” Cassidy held her hand up. “Boring stuff, really. What about you? You said you were taking a break.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I…well, I quit my real job a few years ago. I hated the whole office atmosphere, dressing up, all that crap,” she said, remembering the suits she used to have to wear. “Investment firm,” she said by way of explanation. “But really, I’m a writer.”

“A writer?”

“Yes. And I’m taking a break.”

“What does that mean? You’re in between books?”

“Yes. I’m in between my first one and my second one.”

“I see. So you’re published.”

“Yes.” Laura shifted uneasily in her chair, debating whether to tell Cassidy the whole truth. She decided there was no need to confess her eight-year drought. “It’s been a few years, but I’m taking my time with the second one.”

“I’ve never met an author before. I don’t actually read much, though. Would I have heard of your book?”

“It was a murder mystery type thing. My heroine was a medical examiner. The intent was to have a series, like Patricia Cornwell.” It was Cassidy’s turn for a blank stare. “You know…Kay Scarpetta.”

Cassidy shook her head.

“Well, anyway, my heroine didn’t quite have the personality to compete with those kinds of books. I haven’t been able to come up with a second book for her.”

“What’s the name of the book?”

“Murder by Day. Day was the man’s last name. The murderer,” she explained.

“Hmm. Don’t think I’ve heard of it. Was it successful?”

“Mildly. I cracked the Top Twenty for one week.”

“So you’ve got like…writer’s block then?”

“I guess you could say that.” Laura sighed. “Okay. So it’s been eight years.”

“Eight years? Good Lord! Eight years of writer’s block?”

“Yes.”