“It was so, so nice that you tried to help with Alice.”
“I’m sure the town would have pulled together a collection eventually,” I remarked.
She swayed back and her face said SURPRISED!
“I didn’t even think about that!”
“’Scuse, please,” someone said, and Ms. Kelly was swept aside. “You. Yeah you.” Kimmy of the Christmas attire was standing there, confirming she was talking to me when she was staring down at me, I was staring up at her, and so she couldn’t be talking to anyone else.
Incidentally, she was again in Christmas attire, a T-shirt that was Santa’s coat with black belt and gold buckle and some thick white fuzz around the neck, down the front and ringing the hem. This was under a cardigan that had a line of tree ornaments stitched into the pattern of the knit across the chest, upper sleeves, and although I couldn’t see it, I was assuming all the way around the back.
Oh, and a reindeer antler headband.
I had to admit, that tee kind of rocked.
Nevertheless, I instantly went into damage control mode.
“I’m so sorry. The boys have been really busy. They haven’t had time to gather any evidence about Castro.”
“Of course they haven’t,” she returned. “They’re hunting that nutjob who killed that little girl.”
Well, one could say she was direct.
I nodded soberly. “They are, indeed.”
“What I wanna know is…”
Oh boy.
“When are you gonna write another book?”
That was what I feared was coming, because it often came after, “What I wanna know is…?”
“’Cause, you see,” she carried on, “I liked that other one. That girl had gumption. She was like…” She turned to have a fake conversation with the air at her side. “‘You know what? I’m just gonna be me. And you know what else? I got a vulva, and you might not think I can be me, but guess what?” She leaned in to drive her point home to her imaginary audience. “I can be.” Back to me. “I think every girl on the planet should be required to read that book.”
“That’s a very kind compliment.”
“I mean the boys?” she continued. “They think they got Holden Caulfield. But what’s that boy teaching them? I do not know. But we girls? We girls got Delilah Spinnaker. And I’ll take me some Delilah over Holden a million times.”
I wasn’t sure that was the compare/contrast to go for, but the reason I wrote the book was to let a reader do their own thinking.
So all I had was, “Thank you.”
“So, when are you gonna write another?” she pushed.
And then what I expected to come next, came.
Even so, what came wasn’t what I would have expected.
“Because I think in the next one, she should become a commando, and her boyfriend can be her sidekick.”
I’d had a lot of people share what they thought my heroine in We Pluck the Cord should do next.
Commando, though, was a first.
I tried to let her down easy by saying what I’d said around fifty thousand times.
“I really feel like her story has been told.”
Kimmy settled her weight in like a coach did in the locker room prior to giving a pep talk to the team.
“I was afraid you’d say that. ’Cause, see…it hasn’t.”
“Ohmigod! Hi, Shelly!” Celeste exclaimed, rushing in front of Kimmy to give Ms. Kelly, or apparently Shelly, a big hug.
Shelly hugged her back and Celeste turned on Kimmy.
“Hey there, Kimmy. I need those antlers.”
“They’re at my shop, gurl.”
“I’m gonna stop by.” She looked down at me. “You wanna stop by Kimmy’s shop after coffees, Delly?”
I loved the “Delly” thing was catching on.
“Let me guess, it’s a Christmas shop,” I drawled.
Celeste and Shelly burst into giggles, but Kimmy stared at me like I had a screw loose.
“Yeah, I got Christmas all year ’round, ’cause, duh…Christmas,” she explained. “But obviously, right now it’s Halloween.”
“Wait!” Celeste grabbed her arm. “Do you a have those vampire teeth that are actually wax that you can chew? Like, the anti-gum, gum…but in vampire teeth.”
Did they still make those?
“Yep.” Kimmy popped the “p” of her yep.
They still made them.
“Okay, we’re gonna get those too,” Celeste declared, and I had to say, I liked how she seemed to be…carefree.
This was not the girl I first met.
This was something else.
In other words, I made a decision the likes I’d made a lot over the years.
A mom decision.
And this one was not to let Celeste know my fans (or paparazzi or whatever he was) were causing problems.
She looked again at me, precisely, my drink.
“You’ve got yours. Do you want a cookie? Or a brownie? They make great brownies. I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she said.
“Let me—” I made a move to get up, and, let’s face it, escape Kimmy and Shelly (no matter how cheerful or entertaining they were—from experience I knew these things were apt to turn, and I’d learned it was best for all concerned to make your exit before that happened).