Read Online Holmes & Moriarty 02 - All She Wrote (MM) by Josh Lanyon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Josh Lanyon
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her craft, and this kind of indifferent reception had to be soul destroying.
So, although I am rarely mistaken for one of those warm-and-fuzzy, teddy-bear guys, I blurted out, “Lunch sounds great, Sara, but I want to say I thought your book was amazing. I literally couldn’t put it down last night. I thought it was beautifully written. The word that comes to mind is lyrical.”
Rudolph seemed startled. The rest of the AC looked blank. Sara, for one split second, looked touchingly unguarded.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a wonderful book,” Rudolph said quietly.
She gave him a very brief, shy smile and then she was back in snow-princess guise, informing us that, per tradition, we were on our own for lunch, but would be meeting back at the cottage at two o’clock sharp.
On cue, everyone rose, closing laptops and notebooks, picking up purses and pulling on jackets.
Sara had it all so perfectly under control I wondered why Anna hadn’t had her run the seminar in her place. Except, I remembered with a flinch, after lunch I was supposed to give the first of my talks from the viewpoint of the nominal successful writer present.
With that recollection went my appetite for lunch, but Victoria and Poppy hailed me as I was buttoning up my Burberry.
“We’re driving into Nitchfield,” Poppy said. “There’s a place there that does a real old-fashioned English high tea, and we thought that might be fun since you write a series about a British biologist.”
“Botanist.”
“Right.”
Nella was with them and all three eyed me expectantly. I couldn’t remember the protocol.
Hazily, it seemed to me that Anna had made a point of lunching with different groups of students throughout the weekend of the seminar. That was part of the fun, right? Getting to pick a professional writer’s brain in an open, casual atmosphere?
I glanced around for guidance. Sara was cleaning up the plates and crumbs from the morning session. Rudolph was speaking to her quietly. It was clearly a private discussion.
Hopefully one in which he was offering her a publishing contract.
Was that perhaps part of the problem? Did the other members of the circle feel that Sara already had an unfair advantage because of her position? Did they think Anna had helped her with her story? Or was it simply that Sara’s reserve didn’t encourage people to like her? Whereas Nella was such an eager, enthusiastic kid it would take a harder heart than mine to squash her.
Speak of the devil. “I wanted to ask you about your agent,” Nella said as my gaze happened to meet hers.
“Uh, sure.” What the hell. I didn’t have plans for lunch and if I was going to do a good deed, I might as well do it to the hilt. “High tea or lunch or whatever sounds great.”
They made sounds of approval. Victoria called, “Rowland, did you want to join us for lunch?”
Rowland shook his head regretfully. “I was thinking I should check on Mother.”
Victoria looked disappointed, although she said cheerfully, “Maybe next time.”
Rowland nodded. He smiled at Nella, who blushed and smiled back.
Ah-ha , I thought. Followed by, Uh-oh . Didn’t anyone want to date in their own age bracket these days? He had to be twenty years her senior, and yes, Nella was technically an adult, but the memory of how naive I’d been at twenty didn’t fill me with confidence.
We trailed out of the cottage in a procession, Rowland walking ahead of us. By the time we reached the stairs he was well in the lead, moving with surprisingly brisk purpose.
Poppy remarked, “I don’t know why he doesn’t put that old bat in a nursing home.”
Nella, several steps behind, made a sound of protest. Victoria shushed Poppy.
“He can’t hear me.” Poppy said to me, “Rowland lives with his mother, in case you couldn’t guess. She’s like those broads in Victorian novels who get everything they want by playing sick all the time.”
“She has fibromyalgia,”
So, although I am rarely mistaken for one of those warm-and-fuzzy, teddy-bear guys, I blurted out, “Lunch sounds great, Sara, but I want to say I thought your book was amazing. I literally couldn’t put it down last night. I thought it was beautifully written. The word that comes to mind is lyrical.”
Rudolph seemed startled. The rest of the AC looked blank. Sara, for one split second, looked touchingly unguarded.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a wonderful book,” Rudolph said quietly.
She gave him a very brief, shy smile and then she was back in snow-princess guise, informing us that, per tradition, we were on our own for lunch, but would be meeting back at the cottage at two o’clock sharp.
On cue, everyone rose, closing laptops and notebooks, picking up purses and pulling on jackets.
Sara had it all so perfectly under control I wondered why Anna hadn’t had her run the seminar in her place. Except, I remembered with a flinch, after lunch I was supposed to give the first of my talks from the viewpoint of the nominal successful writer present.
With that recollection went my appetite for lunch, but Victoria and Poppy hailed me as I was buttoning up my Burberry.
“We’re driving into Nitchfield,” Poppy said. “There’s a place there that does a real old-fashioned English high tea, and we thought that might be fun since you write a series about a British biologist.”
“Botanist.”
“Right.”
Nella was with them and all three eyed me expectantly. I couldn’t remember the protocol.
Hazily, it seemed to me that Anna had made a point of lunching with different groups of students throughout the weekend of the seminar. That was part of the fun, right? Getting to pick a professional writer’s brain in an open, casual atmosphere?
I glanced around for guidance. Sara was cleaning up the plates and crumbs from the morning session. Rudolph was speaking to her quietly. It was clearly a private discussion.
Hopefully one in which he was offering her a publishing contract.
Was that perhaps part of the problem? Did the other members of the circle feel that Sara already had an unfair advantage because of her position? Did they think Anna had helped her with her story? Or was it simply that Sara’s reserve didn’t encourage people to like her? Whereas Nella was such an eager, enthusiastic kid it would take a harder heart than mine to squash her.
Speak of the devil. “I wanted to ask you about your agent,” Nella said as my gaze happened to meet hers.
“Uh, sure.” What the hell. I didn’t have plans for lunch and if I was going to do a good deed, I might as well do it to the hilt. “High tea or lunch or whatever sounds great.”
They made sounds of approval. Victoria called, “Rowland, did you want to join us for lunch?”
Rowland shook his head regretfully. “I was thinking I should check on Mother.”
Victoria looked disappointed, although she said cheerfully, “Maybe next time.”
Rowland nodded. He smiled at Nella, who blushed and smiled back.
Ah-ha , I thought. Followed by, Uh-oh . Didn’t anyone want to date in their own age bracket these days? He had to be twenty years her senior, and yes, Nella was technically an adult, but the memory of how naive I’d been at twenty didn’t fill me with confidence.
We trailed out of the cottage in a procession, Rowland walking ahead of us. By the time we reached the stairs he was well in the lead, moving with surprisingly brisk purpose.
Poppy remarked, “I don’t know why he doesn’t put that old bat in a nursing home.”
Nella, several steps behind, made a sound of protest. Victoria shushed Poppy.
“He can’t hear me.” Poppy said to me, “Rowland lives with his mother, in case you couldn’t guess. She’s like those broads in Victorian novels who get everything they want by playing sick all the time.”
“She has fibromyalgia,”
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