Page 62 of Frost
“Thank you again for being here,” Debbie, the owner of the local bookstore, tells me as I walk through the door.
A gust of cold wind blows in behind me, sweeping through my coat and rustling some of the red-and-green garland draping along the book displays near the entrance.
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, closing the door and shaking her hand. “Where should I set up?”
“We set you up over here.” She walks toward an archway to the left, and I follow. It might be freezing outside, but the bookstore is toasty and warm. Cozy too. “I hope it’s to your liking.”
We round the corner, and I see a table with a comfy chair and a sign beside it readingBook Signing Today with Author L.M. Summers!
“It’s perfect,” I say. They set out all the books I’d delivered to the store yesterday, displaying my new release on the table and stacking the others beside it, as well as putting extra copies behind my chair. There isn’t much for me to do other than wait for the signing to begin.
“Can I get you a coffee and a muffin?” Debbie asks.
The bookstore is a family-run business. They sell both new and used books, as well as serve coffee and baked treats. I’ve gone there several times over the years to work when I needed a change of scenery. The quiet atmosphere while surrounded by books and coffee is perfect for writing. Their chocolate muffins are out-of-this-world amazing too.
“Just a coffee for now, please.” I drape my coat over the back of the chair before pushing up my sleeves.
“Do you want to try our new peppermint mocha? It’s our biggest seller right now.”
A pang goes through my heart, and I rub at the spot. “Sure. Thanks.”
Debbie walks toward the barista station in the back of the room, and the sound of coffee beans being ground sounds minutes later.
I browse the shelves around the signing table while I wait. All six books of my series are displayed on the shelf behind me, their illustrated covers catching the eye of anyone who comes into the room. I run my fingers along the books before stopping at the last one:Jack Frost and the Dark Army. It released a little over a week ago and had been my biggest seller to date. It’s also the main reason for my signing this afternoon.
My cover illustrator had drawn Jack exactly as I saw him in my mind, lean with pointed ears and silver hair, and Varik stands in the background, dark shadows swirling around his legs. Months ago, I finished writing the final book in the series, and saying goodbye to Jack for good was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. He’s been part of my life for so long.
I don’t remember why I became so fascinated by him, though. Dad says I told stories about Jack Frost, that I said he’s the one who saved me from the woods all those years ago, but I don’t recall a thing about that day other than being scared and cold.
“Here you are, Mr. Summers,” Debbie says, handing me a large mug of coffee with whipped cream and chocolate flakes on the top.
“Thank you.” I accept the mug, letting it warm my cold fingers. “And you can call me Luka.”
“Excellent.” She smiles before greeting an employee who’d just come through the back entrance.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” the girl says, grabbing an apron and tying it around her waist. “Snow’s starting to come down hard out there. Traffic was crazy.”
As they talk, I sip the coffee, then take a bigger drink when I find out how delicious it tastes. It’s the best peppermint mocha I’ve ever had. I get the strange sense that someone I once knew would love it, but their name and face elude me.
Debbie unlocks the entrance doors at six o’clock to let in the long line of people. I’m shocked so many people would wait outside in the snow just to meet me. It’s surreal. Thankfully, the store is big enough for them all to come in as they wait their turn, so they’re not in the below-freezing temperatures anymore.
A teenage girl is the first one in line. An older woman stands beside her, probably her mother. They have the same sandy-brown hair and heart-shaped face.
“Go on,” the woman says, ushering the girl forward.
“Hi.” The girl awkwardly waves at me as she approaches my table.
“Hi,” I greet her, putting on my best smile. Poor girl looks like she’s about to pass out. “What’s your name?”
“Melanie.” She fidgets with her hands.
“Are you wanting to buy a book today, Melanie?”
She nods. “The new Jack Frost one. I wasn’t able to get it when it released last week, and then Mom surprised me by coming here to meet you. I’m so excited to see what Jack’s up to next. It’s my favorite book series ever.”
She may be shy, but when she starts talking about something she loves, she opens up.
“This was my favorite one in the series to write,” I say, grabbing a book from the top of the stack and opening it to the title page. “But don’t tell that to the other books.”
