Fleeting Glimpse Page 5

  “Yes, Ms. Willis it does.”

  She narrows in on the young girl. “From this point forward, please call me Chandra. That goes for everyone,” she says, scanning the room. “Now, who else has a question?”

  Several people raise their hands.

  “You,” she says, pointing to a middle-aged man.

  “If you hadn’t gotten picked up by the agent the way you did, would you have ever queried your work? Or maybe you would have self-published?”

  “Hmm. I probably would’ve continued to write. I enjoy it. It helps me deal with my anxiety and stress. I like to think I may have queried agents. I don’t know if I would have the guts to self-publish.”

  She leans against the table. “I’m in awe of those who publish their own works. They do everything themselves. I’m lucky I have an agent who handles most things for me. However, on the flip side, I have no control over my covers, or where and when I have a book signing. I go and do what they say.”

  An older woman raises her hand. “You don’t get any say in what the book looks like?”

  Chandra shakes her head. “Not really. I can offer some ideas. In the end the publisher is going to go with what they think will sell the most books.” She giggles. “Most of my thoughts on my book covers come from the emotional stake I have in the book. I’m not very good with the business side of books. For me, this situation works.”

  “Has being a writer made you wealthy?”

  Chandra eyeballs the older gentleman who asked the question. “I’ve been very lucky. My books came out at the right time, right place, and I got lucky with a great publisher. Am I dripping in diamonds? Not hardly. Has it provided a nice life? Yes.”

  She stands silent for a moment. “If you’re writing to get rich, that’s okay. Some people write what is hot in the market, make tons of money and move on to the next hot book market. I don’t hold that against anyone. For me, I write because I need an escape.” Chandra’s face softens. “I lost my mother while in college. I had a hard time and I used my writing to take away the stress of my ordinary life.”

  She steps over to the man who asked the question. “Making money is great. Paying for your bills, not worrying about the rent, I get it. Here are my thoughts. Writing what makes you happy, what brings you hope, or joy, is what makes you a successful writer. Or maybe a more fulfilled writer.”

  Chandra feels her eyes fill with moisture. Blinking, she tries to stymie the tears. “Listen to me. Write what you want, how you want. Just do it. Don’t be afraid to share it. Don’t take criticism to heart. Don’t give up when someone says no.”

  She looks at everyone in the room. “I’m really grateful I got published by a big publisher. I have a good deal and I know I have more books that will be published. But at the end of the day, there are times I wish I could go back. I’m not sure I would do this again. You lose a lot of freedom.

  “My books now have to meet what the publisher thinks will sell, so I often have to change characters or events because they don’t like the way they’re written.” She sighs. “I have to interact and meet new people all the time. Go to events and basically be who they want me to be. I miss the days when no one knew who I was.” She smiles, feigning a laugh. “Okay, enough pity party for me.”

  Gretchen stands, walking towards Chandra. “Our esteemed author has a book signing tonight. I want her to have time to get prepared. I think we can do another session like this next month.” She glances at Chandra. “Would that work for you?”

  “Oh, I think…” she sighs. “No. I’m going on a six-week tour of the east coast.” Chandra glances around the room. “See, no control. I go where they send me.”

  Several people in the room chuckle.

  “I won’t be here for next month.” She snaps her fingers. “I have an idea. What if we have an online critique session of our work?”

  A few soft gasps fill the room.

  “For those who want to participate, email Gretchen your work, she will forward it out to everyone who wants to participate,” Chandra turns to the assistant librarian. “If you will then forward them to me, I’ll read each one and offer comments and suggestions. This will give everyone a chance to have their work read, and when I get back, we can have several critique sessions, going over in person what we do digitally. How does that sound?”

  Several people high five each other, while others wiggle in their seats. A resounding yes fills the room.

  “Great. Let’s set a limit of fifteen thousand words. Pick any part of your story you want to share,” Chandra says.

  “Where is your book signing tonight?”

  Chandra’s gaze shifts from face to face. “Who asked that?”

  A young man raises his hand. “I did.”

  She studies the man. Nothing looks familiar about him. “It will be at the Book Nook. It starts at seven.” She glances around the room. “You’re all welcome to come. I would be thrilled to see all of you there.” She nods at several who come up and shake her hand. Exchanging pleasantries, as a shawl of anxiety wraps around her. Watching the last one leave, she turns to Gretchen. “I probably put a lot of work on you, didn’t I?”

  Gretchen laughs. “Yes, but I don’t mind. The looks on their faces when you said you would read their stories, is worth the work load.”

  “I can use the distraction on the trip. Traveling that long will take a toll on my creativity. Again, I’m sorry if I put you in a bind. Email me everything. I can handle it.”

  Gretchen touches her forearm. “It isn’t a problem. I can create a secure folder everyone can access on Google Docs. Only those in this group will have access.”

  As they near the doors, Gretchen reaches out, stopping Chandra. “Is there anything wrong?”

  Chandra tries not to withdraw. She ignores the urge to run through the door. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem a little off. Usually you’re more excited about talking with the group. This morning, not so much.”

  “Oh, no! I hope I didn’t make the others feel like I didn’t want to be here.”

  Gretchen shakes her head. “Not at all. You just seem like you’re carrying a weight. Like something is bothering you. I’m here to listen, if you ever need an ear.”

  “I appreciate your offer. I guess this trip has me a little worried. I hate being away from my home. I hate going to all these hotels and inns. I guess my anxiety is getting the best of me.”

  They walk out the conference room doors.

  “I’ll be here or at home, if you ever need me. Chandra, I want you to think of me as a friend. I consider you one. We have spent too many hours together here at the library to not be friends.”

  Chandra hugs her. “I do think of you as a friend. And don’t be surprised when I take you up on the offer.” She lifts her wrist, not seeing the numbers on her watch. “I have to run. I have a bunch to do for the meet and greet tonight.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m doing a private party for the owner of the shop first, then the open book signing.” She heads towards the main entrance, almost in a run. “I’ll call you. Thank you, Gretchen.” She turns to leave, then spins back around. “Did you text me this morning?”

  Gretchen shakes her head. “No. Why?”

  “Nothing. See you in a couple of months.”

  “Wait!” Gretchen holds up a finger. “I almost forgot. Someone left something for you in the drop box this morning.” She shuffles through a folder. “Here.” She holds it out.

  Reaching for the card, Chandra’s hand trembles. “Do you know who left it?”

  Gretchen shakes her head. “No. Like I said it was in the drop box. We have a place for people to make payments for fines if the library is closed. That’s where I found it this morning.”

  Chandra shrugs. “I have no idea why anyone would leave a note in the box.”

  “Maybe they wanted to come to the meeting but couldn’t, so they left a note.” Gretchen reaches out to her. “Are you sure you�
�re okay?”

  Chandra nods. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just overwhelmed. Thank you for this.” She waves as she exits the building.

  Gretchen watches her friend run out the door. She wonders what has her frazzled. Sighing, she walks back to her desk. An uncomfortable feeling settles around her. She stares out the doors as a knot begins to form deep in her belly.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Chandra sits in her car, staring at the envelope. She starts to open the card, deciding against it. She drops it in her purse. She drives to the entrance and pulls into a parking space. Curiosity gets the best of her. She removes the card. Staring at it, she takes a deep breath, then opens the envelope.

  Chandra, I couldn’t make this meeting. But I look forward to seeing you soon. I hope you like my surprise in the meantime.

  She looks at the front, it just has her name. The card isn’t signed. She blows out a few sharp breaths. “What surprise?” The question comes out as a whine. Rereading the card, it’s not threatening. “If I told anyone, they’d be like, you’re crazy Chandra.”

  She pulls out of the library. The ride to her home is fairly short. The traffic is light, and she finds herself creeping past the speed limit. She thinks back to the meeting, trying to remember everyone’s face and name. Recalling the new attendees, she can’t remember ever seeing any of them at her signings.

  However, after a while, the people blur together. Flexing her fingers and doing shoulder rolls to ease the tension, she breathes slowly. Over the past few months, she can’t recall anyone at the meetings being overly friendly. “What freaking surprise?’ she yells out.

  Slowing her breathing, she has to get ahold of her anxiety before tonight’s party, or everyone will be questioning her. “Get yourself together.” She mumbles as she pulls into her drive. Something off to her left catches her eye. A quick glimpse at her front door has her heart thudding against her chest. Pulling into the garage, she slams the car into park. Leaving everything, she jumps out.

  Walking at a brisk pace, the click clack of her shoes echoes between her ears. Her front porch is now in view. “Oh my gosh!” her hand covers her mouth. “No, no, no.” Her fingers reach out, touching a pedal. Another bouquet of all pink flowers fills her entire doorway.

  Looking over one shoulder, then the other, she inspects every inch of her street and neighbor’s homes. Nothing looks out of place. Rushing into her garage, she grabs her purse, keys, and phone. She waits to open the mudroom door until the garage door closes.

  Entering her home, Theo greets her. Ignoring him, she throws her things on the kitchen table before rushing to the front door. Picking up the newest bouquet, she sets it on her entryway table. Locking her front door, she leans against it. Her shaking hand reaches out for the card. She pulls it back as if her fingers were singed by a flame. Chandra closes her eyes, taking a deep calming breath. She carries the vase to the kitchen table.

  Theo nudges her leg.

  Bending over, she picks him up, burying her face in his fur. “Theo, I’m sorry I didn’t say hello.” She kisses his nose and puts him back down. Feeling calm, she picks out the card from its holder. A slight tremble starts at her finger tips. As she reads the card, the trembling moves across her entire body.

  Pink really is your color. Love, your biggest fan.

  She rushes to the security phone on the wall.

  “Front gate.”

  “This is Chandra Willis…”

  “Yes, Ms. Willis. What can I do for you?”

  “Can you tell me who delivered the flowers I found on my front porch?”

  “Hang on a moment.”

  Chandra hears the man flipping through paper. Her foot taps the tile floor.

  “Ms. Willis?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “I don’t show any delivery to your house today.”

  She shakes her head. “Then how did a huge bouquet get on my doorstep?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t have any record of anyone even visiting you or requesting entry on your behalf. Could one of your neighbors have left it?”

  Tears swell over the edges of her eyes. “Why would any of my neighbors give me flowers? Are you sure you don’t have any record of a florist coming in for another house and delivering them to me as well?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I don’t. I don’t see any other way someone could gain entry into the community. It has to be one of your neighbors, or someone who lives in the community.”

  Her free arm wraps around her stomach. “Thank you. Oh, one more thing. Can you remove Thomas Rheingold from my list of approved visitors?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Also, out of curiosity, do you show Thomas coming into the neighborhood anytime this week?

  “No. I’m looking through the log. To be honest, if they are on your list, we don’t usually make a note.”

  She sighs. “Thank you again.” Hanging up the phone, she reaches into her back pocket for her cell.

  “Hey, Chandra. What’s up?”

  “Adam, you remember those flowers I thought you delivered to the radio station?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Today when I came home from the library, I had another bouquet on my front door step.”

  “Chandra, I’m not understanding the importance. You got another bouquet? I’m not sure why getting flowers is such a bad thing.”

  “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” she picks up the card off the table, “this is what the card said… Pink really is your color. Love, your biggest fan. That’s what the damn problem is.”

  “Chandra, you have to calm down.”

  “Please don’t tell me to calm down. This is serious. He left a note at the library.”

  “Now you’ve lost me.”

  She growls into the phone. “Someone left me a note this morning at the library. I got it at the end of the meeting.”

  “Okay, great someone from your writers group gave you a card.”

  “NO! The card said Chandra, I couldn’t make this meeting. But I look forward to seeing you soon. I hope you like my surprise in the meantime. Then another bouquet shows up with reference to pink being my color. I wore pink to the radio station. That means he must be following me.”

  “Chandra, please. It’s…”

  “Never mind. Just forget I mentioned it.” She realizes how crazy she sounds.

  “No. I’m not going to forget it. Let’s think about this. First take a deep breath. You need to relax. I think you’re getting too worked up over this.”

  “Easy for you to say. It’s not your life.”

  “Chandra. Think about this. All of these events don’t need to be connected. They could be completely independent of each other.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yes, it does. Let’s take the new bouquet. They were left at your door. If we use the card from the library, this must be the surprise they were talking about. Somehow they had the flowers delivered to your home.”

  “The guard shack said there was no record of a delivery today.”

  “Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. A friend of mine lives in a gated community. People pay the guards off all the time.”

  “What about the other bouquet. Who delivered those?”

  “Another fan. You would not believe how many gifts some people get from fans.”

  “I don’t have that many fans.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “What about the dead animal in my trash?”

  “Thomas or your neighbor.”

  “Why would the neighbor do that?”

  “To rattle you. You snub him all the time. Maybe he just wants to mess with you. You have said he has become a little more aggressive in trying to talk to you. Maybe he’s tired of you ignoring him. He put the dead animal in your trash. He figures this is a good way to get into your head.”

  “He didn’t leave the note at the library. How do you explain
that away?”

  “I told you, separate incident. Your meetings at the library aren’t top secret. Hell, the library runs a monthly ad about it. Whoever left that note, is a fan and wanted to give you flowers. Just like the one from the radio station. I don’t know why you threw them out in the first place.”

  “I didn’t throw them out. When I went to do it, the dead animal was there. I didn’t want to touch it. So, I kept them.” Chandra stares out her glass door. Her property used to bring her such a sense of peace and safety. Not now.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that and proud of you for not giving in to your crazy. I think you should enjoy them.” He waits for a response. “Hello? Are you there?”

  Adam’s voice pulls her out of her trance. “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Sweetie, I know all this exposure is rattling you. I know you have a hard time dealing with this type of notoriety. But you have to learn to take it in stride.”

  “I didn’t sign up for this. I wanted to write stories. That’s it.”

  “Well, too late now to go back. You have to enjoy these gifts and quit thinking it’s someone bad trying to get to you.” Justin pauses. “I do think, your old grumpy neighbor wants more attention from you. Maybe he sees this hot shot author living next door, and thinks you should be more friendly. You aren’t, so he messes with you.”

  “What should I do? Say something to him?”

  “Nah, when you see him wave, if he tries to talk to you, engage him for a few minutes. I bet if you show him some attention, he will stop.”

  “Sure. I guess.” She says the words but her brain is screaming at her. Telling her that isn’t what’s going on.

  “Hey, you want me to pick you up tonight? I can.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I would appreciate it, Adam. The thought of coming home alone tonight doesn’t sound fun.”

  “No worries. I’ll be there at four. We need enough time to get there and get set up.”

  “Thank you, Adam. Please don’t say anything to Jane. She will think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “I won’t. It will be our little secret. Try not to worry. I can tell your mind is spinning out of control.”