Buried in Books Page 2

  Heather and I avoided the dreaded subject of Sara and Roderick. Instead, Heather talked about her fulfilling job at the local library in her small town, and I told her all about my adventures in bookbinding and my relationship with Derek. I didn’t mention the wedding, worried that my happiness would make her feel even worse. After thirty minutes of chatting and catching up, we both sat back and smiled.

  “It’s really good to see you,” I said wistfully.

  “You, too.” Heather’s smile turned enigmatic. “So, are we ever going to mention the big fat bitchy elephant in the room?”

  I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I didn’t want to ask.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “But you’re dying to know.”

  “Sorry,” I said, wincing. “But yeah, I would love to know if you’ve had any news or run-ins with . . .”

  “No.” Heather inhaled quickly, as if she were about to take some horrible-tasting medicine. “I haven’t seen Sara in twelve years. But I have a friend who has a friend who knows her, so I hear things.”

  “I hope you intend to share what you’ve heard.”

  She chuckled. “Absolutely.”

  I frowned. “Do you think she’ll be coming to the conference?”

  “I sure hope not,” Heather said. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed in unrepressed fury. “Because I swear, if I ever see Sara Martin again, I’ll kill her.”

  Chapter Two

  I’ll kill her.

  Heather’s words still rang in my ears two hours later as I left the convention center and headed for home. I only lived four short blocks away so I was lucky to be able to walk and take advantage of the late spring sunshine. But even the radiant warmth couldn’t keep the intermittent shivers from skittering down my spine each time I pictured Heather glowering as she uttered that phrase.

  Had she meant what she said? It was hard to tell. As soon as she said the words, she quickly waved them away and laughed at her “little joke.”

  Whether she’d meant it or not, it saddened me to see how bitter she remained over something that had happened twelve long years ago. Yes, she had been betrayed by two of her closest friends. Yes, it had been devastating. I could verify that. I had been there to cry with her and feel her pain. She had lost her boyfriend, Rod, but we had both lost Sara’s friendship that day. It was rough for a while, for both of us, but as the years flew by, I managed to completely forget the incident—until today. Of course, Rod hadn’t been my boyfriend, so I didn’t have the same emotional investment. Still, I had figured Heather would’ve been over it by now. Wasn’t twelve years a long enough time to mourn the loss of a jerky boyfriend?

  Apparently not, because here she was, still playing the victim. That was probably a little harsh, but wow, I’d had no idea how deeply Sara and Rod had wounded her. I tried to relate, thought of Derek and myself in the same situation, and wondered if . . . Nope. That would’ve never happened with us. Though it did give me pause to reconsider how Heather could still feel so hurt.

  Heather had managed to graduate with the rest of us, obtaining her masters in library science and then moving back home to Wisconsin. I emailed her at least a dozen times but she never responded. I tried not to take it personally and instead chalked it up to her need to distance herself from anyone connected to the unhappy incident. But I had definitely lost her as a friend. I had never considered myself a victim of Rod and Sara’s treachery, but now I realized that I had lost two good friends in the upheaval.

  At Fourth and Folsom I waited for the light to turn green. Trying to change the subject in my head, I thought about the Book Lovers’ Tour I was giving tomorrow afternoon.

  After finishing our lattes and promising to get together again, Heather and I had separated and I ran off to track down the raffle coordinator. I wanted to see if enough people had entered the raffle contest to fill the small tour bus the association had hired.

  “Oh my God!” Patty, the coordinator, had squealed. “We’ve got over a thousand raffle entries! Everybody wants to take your tour.”

  I frowned, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes! Isn’t it fabulous?”

  I was still skeptical. “Do they all know the tour is tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Oh yes, it says so right on the ticket and all of our volunteers have been reminding people about the time.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  She squeezed my arm. “We are so excited, Brooklyn. At five dollars a ticket, that’s over five thousand dollars for the scholarship fund!”

  “Holy moly.” Pressure’s on, Brooklyn, I thought. “I sure hope everyone enjoys the tour.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she scoffed. “They’ll have a blast.”

  “Yeah. Well, thanks.” Still in shock, I had walked away, feeling a little numb as I left the raffle center. I had thought that the tour would be interesting and informative, but now I realized I would have to make sure it was fun and fabulous for the winners.

  The light turned green and I crossed Folsom Street.

  I smiled, remembering how the coordinator grabbed my arm in excitement. “Nothing like a happy raffle coordinator,” I muttered to myself. “So that’s good news.”

  But then there was the bad news, I thought, as my mind wandered back to Heather and her disgruntled state. I refused to believe that Rod had been the great love of her life. Sure, he had been cute and fun, but he certainly had not been worth her spending the rest of her life wallowing in a state of abject misery.

  But that was just me.

  I’ll kill her.

  I came to a dead stop—no pun intended. Once again I was struck by the cold certainty of her words. I could still see the expression she wore and it gave me another chill. And now I wondered why she had only blamed Sara. Rod was just as much to blame, if not more.

  If it were me, I would have killed Rod instead, I thought.

  “Wait, no.” I said it out loud and glanced around, hoping no one had heard me say any of the above.

  “Don’t even think it,” I hissed under my breath. It was like tempting fate or something. Honestly, though, if given the choice of getting rid of either Sara or Rod, it was a no-brainer.

  And by getting rid of either Sara or Rod, I meant, like, banishing one of them to a campus in the frozen tundra. Nothing violent. No killing. I did a quick mental back step, hoping to appease the karma gods before they got together and smote me.

  And there went another cold chill. I rubbed my arms and vowed to stop thinking about this stuff.

  I couldn’t help it, though. Seeing Heather again had reminded me of all those angst-ridden days back in graduate school. Rod had spoiled everything when he transferred to our campus during our last year together. First of all, he was ridiculously good-looking, with dark, scruffy hair, piercing blue eyes, and a sly, sexy smile. For Heather it was love at first sight. She was head over heels and everyone knew it, including Rod, and that spelled trouble as far as I was concerned. He used to tease her all the time and play little games with her, taunting her with the fact that there were plenty of other women around campus who found him appealing.

  He was funny and fun, but he wasn’t very nice, I thought, remembering. Even at the time I’d thought he wasn’t worth Heather being so gaga over him. She deserved better. But Heather never seemed to notice. She was simply blown away by his smile and his charm. He liked to shake things up, he always insisted. And he did. Everything in our little world changed when he arrived, and not in a good way.

  Before Rod showed up, Heather and Sara and I had been inseparable. The Three Musketeers nickname had suited us; we were fiercely loyal to each other. We went everywhere together and always had a good time. We knew every last detail of each other’s lives and could finish each other’s sentences. And since we were tagged with the Three Musketeers label anyway, we made it our cr
edo to be one for all and all for one. I would have done anything for those two girls and I knew they both felt the same way about me.

  Rod changed all that. He was like a bright star and my two roommates weren’t the only students who were blinded by the light. After testing the waters with Heather and Sara and several other girls, Rod eventually chose Heather as his girlfriend. I always thought it could’ve gone either way between her and Sara. And Sara, in her defense, seemed to take his decision in stride. But apparently she was determined to win him back. And eventually she did.

  Heather did not take it well.

  A truck honked its horn, snapping me back to reality. The sidewalk was crowded and I needed to pay attention to where I was going.

  At the next corner, I pressed the walk button and tried to relax my shoulders as I waited. Obviously, I was still unnerved by the conversation with Heather, but I shook it off and quickly walked the last half block home.

  I keyed in my security code and stepped inside the lobby of my apartment building. Once the front door was closed tightly, I hurried over to the old freight elevator and jumped inside just in time, hitting the up button. The ancient thing shuddered and moaned, then began to move. But instead of ascending to the sixth floor, the elevator headed down.

  “Rats,” I groused. Someone in the garage downstairs must’ve pushed the button just before me. With a shrug, I leaned against the rough wood wall to enjoy the ride.

  This beautifully rustic elevator had been one of the selling points when I bought my apartment five years ago. I had also loved the exposed brick walls, the polished wood floors, spacious rooms, and awesome view from my front window. Not to mention a great location south of Market Street—otherwise known as SOMA—within walking distance of the Giants’ baseball stadium.

  I chose to overlook the fact that the old elevator trembled so much that it often felt as if the entire building was shaking. I preferred to consider it an integral part of our state-of-the-art security system. After all, an unwelcome stranger couldn’t exactly sneak up on you if they were taking the elevator.

  Unfortunately, in the past there had been a few unsavory characters who had figured out that they could get to me by taking the stairs. We had worked that out with cameras and video screens at the front door and video screens in everyone’s homes to make sure nobody got into the building uninvited.

  I brushed off that unpleasant topic and turned my thoughts to Derek Stone, my gorgeous fiancé and the man I intended to spend the rest of my life with. He had taken the week off to finish up a few of the wedding chores he’d volunteered for, such as choosing a “signature cocktail” for the wedding reception and picking up family members at the airport.

  I smiled at the thought of finally meeting the rest of his large family. So far I’d met his parents and his younger brother Dalton. He had three more brothers coming to town, along with their wives and children, plus three aunts and uncles and various cousins and more children. It seemed that this had become the wedding of the century for the Stone family since every last one of them was showing up for the ceremony this weekend. Or maybe they just wanted to experience the thrill of traveling on a luxurious private jet from England to San Francisco. Derek was pulling out all the stops to make sure his entire family was here for the most special day of our lives.

  The elevator reached the garage floor and shimmied to a stop. The doors opened and I saw Derek standing there. His eyes lit up. “Darling.”

  “This is such a nice surprise,” I said, as he joined me.

  He leaned in and kissed me. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you’d be at the conference for hours.”

  “I just went to register and then wound up talking to a few people. What about you? Where have you been?”

  “I finished my errands,” he said. “Then I stopped off at the office to make sure there were no shenanigans going on while the boss is away. And now I’m home. And here you are.”

  “Isn’t that fun?”

  He kissed me again. I sighed and laid my head on his shoulder. Sometimes it startled me to realize how much I loved this man. Almost equally as startling was the fact that he loved me back, just as much.

  I gazed up at him. “When you say errands, what exactly do you mean?”

  His grin was lopsided. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’ve managed to narrow down our signature cocktail choices to two. I’ll make them both for you this week and you’ll be the final judge.”

  “I’m up to the challenge,” I said.

  “Of course you are.” He chuckled, then shook his head. “Just be grateful you didn’t have to work your way through the twelve other contenders.”

  “Twelve.” I stared at him, finally comprehending. “You’re inebriated.”

  “Not in the slightest.” He shrugged. “I took the smallest sips of each.”

  “Didn’t Dalton go with you?”

  He scowled. “And therein lies the problem.”

  “Oh no. Did you get him drunk?”

  “Certainly not. He did that all by himself.”

  “Will he be all right?”

  “Of course,” he said gently, knowing I had a soft spot for his baby brother. “I poured him into a cab and sent him back to Dharma.”

  “I hope Savannah doesn’t blame me,” I muttered. Not that it was my fault, but then, we were sisters. It rarely mattered whether something was actually my fault or not.

  Derek’s brother Dalton had recently moved from England to Dharma to live with my sister. The two of them had fallen madly in love last year while Savannah was under suspicion for murder. Dalton had come to town to help us solve a tricky cryptology question. His top secret job at MI6, England’s mysterious intelligence agency, had something to do with breaking codes.

  “She might not blame you,” Derek grumbled, “but I do.”

  I smiled. “Why?”

  He wrapped me in his arms and buried his head in the crook of my neck. “Because you weren’t with me.”

  I rubbed his back, laughing. “You’re right. It’s all my fault.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad we agree.”

  After a moment, I asked, “You didn’t drive home, did you?”

  “No. The taxicab dropped me off and I jogged down to the garage to grab some client notes I left in my car.”

  “Good.”

  I knew Derek was barely inebriated, but I still would’ve been worried to know he’d driven home. In most situations, he was in complete control, the master of his universe. But right now he seemed a little more stressed out than usual. Maybe he was worried about the wedding.

  I thought about it for a half second and shook my head. Derek, stressed? About the wedding? No way. He had been looking forward to the big day from the very moment he had proposed.

  Straightening, he gazed at me and touched my cheek. “What’s troubling you, love?”

  “What? Me?” I leaned back and gazed up at him. “Nothing. I thought something might be wrong with you. You seem a little stressed.”

  “Not a bit.” He regarded me for a long moment, then frowned. “But something happened to you, I can tell. Was it at the conference?”

  I blinked and shook my hair back. How did he do that? Not that I minded him being able to gauge my every emotion and thought by osmosis, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

  “I ran into an old friend,” I admitted.

  He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “Tell me about it.”

  The elevator quivered to a stop on the sixth floor and the heavy door slid open.

  “Let’s get out of here before the door shuts,” I said, shifting my rolling briefcase around. “I’ll tell you all about it inside.”

  He slipped his arm through mine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  We walked down the wide interior hall to our front door. As always, once inside
the house we headed for the kitchen to regroup and chat. I left my rolling briefcase and purse by the dining room table and sat down on the barstool facing the kitchen. Derek found some crackers, put them in a small bowl, and set it on the bar. Then he removed a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured one glass. After handing it to me, he grabbed a bottle of water for himself and took a seat on the kitchen stool across from me.

  As soon as we were settled, Charlie, our sweet cat, came out from hiding and wound herself around my ankles.

  “Hello, my darling one,” I said, and reached down to scratch her soft neck. As I sat back up, Derek raised his bottle.

  “Cheers, love,” he said, and we clinked our drinks together.

  “Cheers.” I took a sip of the cabernet sauvignon, savoring the richness and flavor. Setting the glass down, I reached for a cracker. “So how are your parents doing?”

  “They’re having a delightful time at your parents’ home in Dharma. They planned to tour the new wine cave this afternoon.”

  “Without us,” I groused. “Maybe I should have backed out of the conference after all.”

  “You can still back out if you want,” he said gently, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “But then where would you go? What would you do? You’d be here, underfoot. In my way.”

  I laughed, as he knew I would. “That’s such a lovely thing to say.”

  “Seriously, love. I remember hearing you say how eager you were to attend this conference.”

  “Oh, nice,” I said, scowling. “Throwing my words back in my face.”

  He laughed. “That’s my style.”

  “Vicious.” But I chuckled, because it wasn’t his style at all. Derek had always been unfailingly kind—except for those times when we had faced down cold-blooded killers. Then he could be more cutthroat and diabolical than anyone on the planet. I appreciated both sides of his personality and they gave me two more reasons to love him.