I spent late Saturday morning alternating between helping Alicia and Damian prepare food and assisting Julie and Scott with setting up chairs on the front lawn and the patio.
“Thank heavens we have good weather.” Julie glanced over at me as we straightened a row of folding chairs. “I know you had a contingency plan to hold the event inside, but I think that would’ve been problematic with the crowd we’re expecting.” As she adjusted the placement of one chair, her pink scoop-neck top rumpled up, exposing a narrow expanse of her toned midriff. Something her boyfriend, Scott Kepler, seemed to appreciate, if his admiring gaze was any indication.
I smiled, pleased that my friend had found happiness with the charming author. Although Scott, at forty-six, was ten years older than Julie, they were a good match. Julie even got along with his preteen daughter, Abby. Scott lived across the state, in Asheville, North Carolina, but he spent a considerable amount of time in Beaufort due to his interest in the history of pirates and boating in the area.
More and more time these days, I thought with a smile. Julie had experienced some unpleasant romantic affairs in the past. It was nice to see her finally involved in a positive relationship.
“I’m sure Charlotte is grateful not to have everyone tramping through her house.” Scott shoved back the damp lock of silver-threaded auburn hair that had fallen into his eyes. “It’s already hot, though, and I expect this afternoon is going to be blistering. I hope your guests are prepared for that.”
“It’s July in North Carolina,” Julie said, flipping her long black braid behind one shoulder. “They should know to dress accordingly.”
I frowned, considering the implications of this. “Hopefully no one will pass out or anything. Maybe I should’ve provided some fans.”
Julie’s dark brown eyes sparkled with good humor. “Never fear—your savvy local bookseller already thought of that. I had some of those basic cardboard fans made, with the Bookwaves logo and info printed on them, of course.”
“As a smart entrepreneur would.” Scott threw one arm around Julie’s shoulders. “She’s a clever one, this girl,” he added, as he pulled her close to his side.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“But rather sticky right now.” Julie wrinkled her nose as she slipped free of Scott’s embrace. “I’m afraid you don’t exactly smell like a rose, either, my love.”
Scott pulled his elastic features into a comical mask as he flapped his arms. “That’s just my manly aroma.”
“Uh-huh.” Julie arched her brows. “Well, mister manly, I suggest that we run home and take showers before we greet Ms. Nobel and the other guests.” She glanced at her Wonder Woman wristwatch. “We just have time if we leave right now. If that’s okay with you, Charlotte.”
“Of course. I need to do the same. Anyway, I think everything’s ready, or as ready as it can be. Of course, we’ll have to drape the author table and carry out the boxes with the copies of Amanda’s books, but we should probably do that at the last minute.”
“Right. I expect some of the fans will show up early, and I don’t want anyone lifting a free copy,” Julie said.
I surveyed Chapters’s front lawn. The covered front porch served as a backdrop for the event, its white railings draped with author banners featuring Amanda’s photo and pictures of all her books. We’d arranged the white folding chairs I’d rented from a party supply store to face the author table, which was placed at the foot of the front steps. I wasn’t convinced that we had enough seating to accommodate all the fans, but as Julie had said, there was still room for others to spill out into the rest of the yard and onto the sidewalk. Ellen had even offered the use of her front yard if more space was needed.
Julie’s words broke through my musing. “One more thing. I need to remember to bring my change box. Remind me, would you, Scott? I’ve got my phone set up to do debit and credit sales, but I know some people like to pay cash.”
“Sure thing,” Scott said. “If you’ll remind me that we need to stop by Roger’s house when we head back here. I promised him a ride, remember?”
I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip, thankful the magnolia and maple that flanked either side of the front lawn offered a little shade. “Roger? Is that someone I should know?”
“Roger Warren,” Julie said. “He’s a friend of Scott’s.”
“A colleague, really.” Scott cast me a smile. “One of my former professors, to be exact. And one of the main reasons I was drawn to Beaufort when I decided to write a nonfiction book about pirates. He’s an expert on the history of this area.”
“He’s a cool guy. A local, although I don’t think he mingles much with anyone except for other history buffs,” Julie said. “I had to twist his arm to get him to do a signing at Bookwaves a few years ago. He said no one would be interested in his scholarly writing, but we actually had a pretty big crowd.”
Scott shook his head. “Roger always downplays his achievements. I don’t know why. He retired from teaching but still writes articles that are crucial to understanding the history of the area.”
“I wonder if Ellen knows him,” Julie said, with a glance over at my neighbor’s house. “I bet she does, since I think they’re around the same age. How old is she, anyway? I mean, she’s so vibrant and active, it’s hard to guess.”
“Seventy-six, I believe,” I said.
“Roger’s a little younger. Late sixties.” Scott nudged Julie’s arm with his elbow. “So don’t go matchmaking, sweetheart.”
Julie shrugged. “Who cares about a little age gap, especially at that age? But no, I wasn’t planning on trying to hook them up. I just thought they’d enjoy talking to one another, if they haven’t already met.”
“That’s true. Roger enjoys chatting with intelligent women. Which is why he likes you,” Scott leaned in to give Julie a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, but I doubt I’m on Ellen’s level.” Julie’s smile faded. “And of course I’m glad Roger agreed to attend, but”—she shot me a concerned glance—“I admit I’m a little worried too. I don’t know what his reaction will be to Amanda Nobel’s books. You know what a stickler he is for historical accuracy, Scott. I’m afraid he might challenge Amanda over some of her details. She doesn’t exactly cling too closely to the facts.”
Scott waved his hand through the air. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. Roger may come off a little pompous sometimes, but he’s a gentleman. He isn’t going to be rude, especially not to a lady.”
“I know, but …” Julie bit her lower lip “Oh well, I suppose it’ll be fine. It’s too late to change anything now, anyway.”
“Speaking of late”—Scott tapped his watch—“we’d better get a move on, or that’s what we’re going to be. And I don’t think you want that, since you’re the host and interviewer.”
“I certainly don’t.” Julie cast me a bright smile. “You feel good about everything, Charlotte? We’ll be back as soon as we can, I promise.”
“I think we’re all set. Just remember those fans. I’m sure they’ll be appreciated.”
As soon as Julie and Scott headed back to Julie’s apartment to shower and change clothes, I went inside to also grab a shower. After blow drying my short hair and applying a light touch of makeup, I slipped into one of my few dresses—a simple jade-green silk sheath that I wore with silver and peridot jewelry—before heading into the kitchen.
I found Damian in the pantry, collecting bottles of wine and liquor to fill several steel-mesh baskets.
“Working alone? Where’s Alicia?”
Damian held up a blue bottle of vodka. “After we finished prepping the food, she decided she’d better shower and change before any guests show up. I plan to run home and do the same but first wanted to pull stuff together to have it ready to carry out later.”
“Anything we need? Extra ice or garnishes or anything?”
“No.” Damian placed the bottle in the basket close to his feet and straightened to his full height. Although I wasn’t short, he was considerably taller. He gazed down at me with a smile. “Everything’s all set. You did a great job with the shopping, as usual.”
“I make lists,” I said, with an answering smile. “Habit. I think it comes from being a teacher all those years.”
“It works.” Damian flipped a couple of his black dreadlocks behind his shoulders. “I know I look like a mess right now, but don’t worry—I plan to pull the dreads back and change into something classier before I man the bar.”
“I never worry about that. You always look professional on the job.” I gave him a wink. “No matter what Alicia says.”
“Alicia’s old school. Kind of like my mama. Neither one of them approve of my hair. But you know”—Damian shrugged—“life’s too short to worry about stuff like that.”
“That’s certainly true,” I said, my expression sobering. An image of my late husband, Brent, flashed through my mind. He’d died unexpectedly, and much too young.
“Anyway, I think we’re all set for this afternoon.” Damian carried the basket to one side of the pantry and set it beside the others. “I’ll just leave these here until closer to the reception.” Adjusting one of the rows of bottles, he glanced over at me, his dark eyes full of curiosity. “I actually know one of your guests. Surprised me to see her staying here, especially since she lives so close.”
“You mean Molly Zeleski?” I asked, remembering that she lived in Morehead City.
“Yeah. I knew her as Molly Dent, but I’m sure it’s the same person. She looks pretty much the same, even after ten years. She went to my high school.”
“Did you know her well?”
“Not really. She was a senior when I was just a seventh-grader.” Damian wiped his fingers with the white dish towel he’d tucked in the pocket of his faded jeans. “It was a religious school.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Really?
Damian grinned. “Bet it seems unlikely, knowing me, but my mama is a strong Christian woman. She wanted all us kids to get the ‘right teachings,’ as she used to say. With my brother and sister, it worked—he’s a Baptist minister, and she’s a private duty nurse. But with me …” He lifted his hands. “I rebelled and ran wild, until I discovered cooking and got my head straight.”
“It was a private school, I assume?”
“Yeah. It was a decent place,” Damian said, “but pretty small. Nothing like the public schools where you taught, I bet. All the grades were jammed together in one building, so I’d see Molly around, but more than that”—Damian twisted the towel between his hands—“I heard about the trouble she got into.”
“Oh?” I leaned against one of our steel pantry racks and studied him, noting the concern in his eyes. “Trouble like typical teenage antics or something more?”
“More. She had a real bad temper, at least back then. The hair-trigger kind. She’d be all fine and cheerful, but someone would say or do something that ticked her off and bam!”—Damian snapped the twisted towel through the air—“just like that, she’d go off on them.”
I frowned, tapping my fingers against one of the perforated metal shelves. “She was aggressive?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Damian tossed the towel over one shoulder. “That’s why I was kinda concerned when I saw she was staying here. I know people can change, and I’m the last person who has any right to complain about a bad temper, but when I saw her it brought back memories. And not pleasant ones.”
“Did she ever attack you?” I asked, stepping away from the shelf to face him directly. If someone had harmed one of my staff, even if the altercation was in the past, I wanted to know. While Damian did have a short fuse, he had never, to my knowledge, physically attacked another person.
“No, nothing like that. We don’t have any real history.” Damian looked down at his hands, which were now clasped tightly at his waist. “She called me a name once or twice, but that was it.”
“I see,” I said, considering what that name had likely been. “Well, if she says anything like that to you while you’re working this event, or any time this week, you let me know right away. I’m not going to put up with that sort of thing at Chapters.”
“Thanks, but I imagine she’ll be on her best behavior, what with her idol staying here too.” Damian lifted his head and looked me in the eye. “And I don’t need you to save me from anything. I was fighting that battle long before I met you. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you do. I just want to assure you that I’ll back you up.”
Damian’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “I know. Wouldn’t work here otherwise. But I’d better get a move on if I want to run to my apartment and back in time for your party.”
“Okay. See you later. And,” I added, as his walked past me, “thanks for alerting me about Molly. Like you said, she may be a completely different person now, but it’s probably a good thing that I know to keep an eye on her. We don’t want any problems like we had last year.”
“We sure don’t,” Damian said as he left the pantry.
I waited until I heard the back-porch door slam before I wandered out of the pantry and into the kitchen. Examining the covered platters that lined the center island, I considered the information Damian had shared about Molly Zeleski.
There’s really no reason to worry, I told myself, as I tucked a loose piece of plastic wrap under one of the ceramic platters. Just because someone was a hothead in the past doesn’t mean they’ll pull any shenanigans now. Besides, what are the chances that something so drastic could happen, two years in a row?