“Jo’s the manager. I’ll get her.” Daniella backed away again.

And then, before Daniella could turn, Rinn saw Brock wink. “You do that.”

Daniella’s expression narrowed, but she must have been more eager for the excuse to get out of there than to stick around and fight him about it.

Rinn stared at Harvey for a moment.

How was this the author of her favorite book? Maybe he was used to talking to adults. Maybe he had thought Daniella was older. But neither of those were satisfactory answers. None of those assuaged the instant distrust that was welling up in Rinn’s stomach.

Rinn shivered again. “Mr. Harvey?”

That’s when the harried-looking young woman—the one who had been trailing behind Brock—approached. She wasn’t just in motion, she was full of nervous energy. She had on jeans and a pressed button-down shirt with a cardigan over the top. Her glasses were sliding down the bridge of her nose slightly, and her hair was what Rinn could only describe as floppy. She looked like she was about Jo’s age, though she could have been younger. She elbowed Harvey.

At the prompting, Harvey turned his attention away from Daniella’s retreating form and finally noticed Rinn. “What is it? Looking for something to be signed?”

“I mean, yes—that would be amazing—but I work here, and I was wanting to say how excited we all are to have you at the store.” Rinn could hear the flatness in her voice. Why wasn’t this going according to plan? Why was he so different from the voice that narrated his books?

Harvey sniffed and said, “Thank you,” in a way that hardly implied gratitude.

And then, under his breath, but in a way that Rinn could still hear, “Jesus, they hire children here. This place, Maya.”

Rinn took a step back. She smoothed her hands over her skirt. Was the polo she was wearing too juvenile? She’d been trying to dress up for the occasion. She’d steamed her skirt, and she’d made sure the polo had come fresh from the wash.

“Come on, Harvey. There are no small gigs. A sale is a sale, and every single one counts toward that final number. I’m sure more sales couldn’t hurt season three.” Maya’s voice was overly chipper and enthusiastic.

Right. Season three. Of the TV show based off When We Were Us. The comment shouldn’t have stung. It really shouldn’t have. It was just that Rinn wished that she hadn’t heard it, that was all.

Rinn smoothed out her skirt again, trying to conquer the feeling of resentment that was welling up in her chest. She could contain the feeling for now. She straightened her shoulders.