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I frowned. “My mom called you?”
“Sure did. Said this mess with your fiancé had driven you underground, and I should reach out.”
I pushed my tongue into my cheek. “She shouldn’t have.”
“She said you were in Arkansas?”
“Alabama,” I corrected. “I, um, rented a house in the country to finish my book.”
“That sounds extreme, but whatever works. So how is the book coming along?”
“Pretty well,” I said, stalling.
“Good,” he oozed. “When will I see it?”
I grimaced. “Let me think about it and I’ll email you a new schedule.”
“Email is for Boomers, darling. Text or nothing.”
“Okay.”
“Your mom thinks you should do some publicity, and considering the bad press your, um, boyfriend generated, that’s not a bad idea.”
“I think it’s best to let things die down. Besides, I’d rather spend the time writing.”
“Just one or two small events so your readers don’t think you have writers block.”
I swallowed hard. “No, we wouldn’t want anyone to think that.”
“The town where you’re staying in Arkansas—does it have a bookstore?”
“It’s Alabama. There’s a small bookstore here called Blakemore’s.”
“Blakemore’s… that sounds familiar. He snapped his fingers. “I think that’s a New York Times reporting store.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you now?”
“Why don’t you set up a signing there, something cozy to get a few photos of you to publish to our social media accounts?”
“I’ll look into it,” I promised.
“Do more than that,” Bruce said, his voice deceptively light. “I need something to show the editorial staff you haven’t gone AWOL.”
My stomach crimped again. “Message received.”
“I hope so. Bye, darling.”
July 19, Friday
I WAS walking to the cemetery carrying my gigantic flashlight in case the sun set before I could lock the gate and racewalk back to the house. At a rumbling noise behind me, I turned to see a small bus lurching over the uneven road, going much too fast. I jumped into the ditch to get out of the way as it sped by.
Who would be visiting the cemetery at this hour?
On a bus?
By the time I reached the gate, the bus had parked and a couple of dozen people had disembarked. A white-haired woman wearing a colorful caftan seemed to be leading the motley group of people. She passed out flashlights, then clapped her hands and they all crowded around as dusk descended.
I gathered it was some kind of tour. I stopped at the gate to watch and listen.
