Page 60 of Out of the Cold

“Right. That’s a good idea. I’ll just be petrified about tonight.”

She grew quiet again and he let her be in her own thoughts. The traffic got busier as they approached town, and by the time he turned onto the main drag, it was clear no one had let the snow stop them.

“I’ll drop you off and find a parking spot,” he said, stopping in front of the bookstore. “I’m not sure how far away I’ll have to park this beast.”

“Oh, okay. Wish me luck.”

He smiled. “You’ll be great.”

When he made it to the bookstore ten minutes later, it was as busy as it had been that morning. People milled among the bookshelves, and the line for the cash register stretched halfway to the door.

He made his way to the back room, where rows of chairs were set up facing a podium. All the chairs were occupied—many of them with children and young teenagers—but for a few empty seats in the middle of each row. A good turnout then. He needn’t have worried.

He saw a few people he knew. Some were folks who lived in town year-round and owned businesses, others were tourists who visited every year. You got to know people on the slopes and in the restaurants after a while, but this year he hadn’t been out and about like he used to be.

He spotted Lucy in a chair up front. Her head was bent, as if she were looking at something on her lap. His heart started beating faster in nervous anticipation. Lucy was shy and not entirely confident. What if she read poorly, stammering her way through? She’d be mortified, and he’d have to lie about how it went.

Then a man walked up to the podium. The crowd—over fifty now, including those standing around the room—fell silent as he introduced Lucy.

“Welcome to Turn the Page, and thank you all for coming. I’m Hector Diaz, the owner, and I’m incredibly pleased to introduce tonight’s author, Lucy Pond. I first came across Lucy’s name in glowing reviews. One remarked on her ‘sure and lyrical prose,’ another on how ‘she unerringly conveys the doubt and beauty in young adults fighting their way toward a vision of themselves only they can see.’ And someone wrote, ‘There is nothing precious about Ms. Pond’s characterization of childhood and the long road out of it. There are real terrors, and her heroine, Abigail, faces them with the kind of grit and determination we long for in our heroes.’”

Hector smiled and took off his glasses. “As soon as I picked upBreaking the Rules, I saw all that and more. I fell into the world Lucy Pond created, and I didn’t come out until I’d read every word. So you can imagine my pleasure when I met the author herself several weeks ago, right here in my own store. You are all in for a treat. Please welcome Lucy Pond.”

Lucy stood up and took her place behind the podium. She was radiant, smiling at the crowd, her eyes shining.

“Thank you all so much for coming. It’s amazing to be talking to so many people after sitting in a cabin alone for so many weeks.”

Her voice had the slight breathlessness he’d heard when she was out of her element—including when he kissed her—but her poise never left her. Gabe leaned forward as she started to read a passage from her published book and let her slightly husky delivery flow over him. Maybe he wasn’t the target audience, but he got caught up in the story anyway.

She read for twenty minutes—her gaze warm and alert whenever she looked up from the book and took in the audience. When the scene was done, she closed the book.

The entire room broke into applause, and Lucy’s tentative smile turned luminous. His heart swelled as he clapped for her, strangely overcome by seeing her in her element and knowing the whole room recognized her talent.

When she looked his way and caught his eye, he winked.

The clapping died down as Hector came forward.

“That was wonderful, Lucy. Thank you. Lucy will be taking questions, but before we start, I’m happy to let you all know that she’ll be running a free six-week writing workshop, starting next month, for anyone twelve through eighteen years of age. I know many of you are only here for a short time, but I hope some of you will be able to make it. We have flyers on the table for anyone interested.”

A girl in front of Gabe leaned toward her mother. “Do you think I could do that?”

He smiled and looked around. The room was buzzing.

“Okay,” Hector continued. “Who has a question for Lucy?”

The first one came from a young girl, maybe thirteen. “Were you like Abigail when you were young?” she asked.

Lucy looked thoughtful. “I think I wrote about Abigail because I felt like her quite a bit when I was young. But unlike Abigail, I never did anything about it except imagine other lives for myself. Abigail is much braver than I ever was.”

He frowned at that, thinking about all she had gone through as a child. How could she think she wasn’t brave?

One of the few men in the audience raised his hand and said that he thought Abigail was a great role model for girls, and a reminder to him not to shortchange his daughter. “I let my boys run a bit wild, but I’ve never encouraged Emma to take risks. You’re making me rethink that.”

Even from where he sat, Gabe could see Lucy flush with pleasure.

“Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied. “I think we all have some work to do in that regard, but Emma is lucky to have a dad who gets that.”

There were a few more questions about her next book and how long she would be living in Jeffrey, and then Hector thanked everyone for coming and said Lucy would be signing books for the next half hour.

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