A Story to Kill (3 page)

“No, I mean tonight. What time do you lock the doors?” This time, Sara rolled her eyes in frustration at Cat's lack of understanding.

“We lock up when we go to bed, but the envelope has a security passcode that you can key into the box to the left of the front door. That will let you in. If you have any problems, push the intercom and we'll come down.”

Sara turned and sprinted up the stairs. Cat returned to the living room where Rose and Daisy looked up expectantly.

“Is Mr. Cook here?” Rose poured a second glass of wine, her hand shaking a little as she waited for Cat's answer.

Cat sank into her chair. “Nope. That was Sara Laine. She's not going to be joining us this evening.”

“Oh.” Rose's disappointment showed on her face. “So Tom Cook
is
attending this retreat right?”

Oh no, a diehard fan
. Cat knew she needed to nip this fangirl moment in the bud before the author got here or he'd be overrun with Rose's questions and attention. “He is, but remember, the purpose of the retreat is to allow the participants time to write away from their normal world. I'm sure he's going to be just as focused on his work in progress as you will be.”

Daisy poked her sister. “I told you not to get your hopes up. Besides, we should see him at the group activities. I'm sure he'd sign a book for you then.”

Cat smiled at the other sister. Thank God she had an ally in the discussion. “Exactly. So let's get back to your writing. What made you choose to write romance?”

Daisy took a sip of her wine, then set the glass down. “I like sex.”

Chapter 3

The flight from Chicago had been delayed, so it was after eleven by the time the final two guests arrived. Cat had stayed up to wait for the group, but Rose and Daisy had retired to their room hours before. Sara still hadn't returned. Cat glanced out at the darkening night wondering where the young woman really was at this late hour. “A meeting with your thesis advisor? I don't think so.”

When the lights from the SUV flashed by the window, Cat went to the front desk to get the men's envelopes ready. She'd kept the soup on low, but turned off the oven, not wanting the bread to dry out. The men followed Shauna into the lobby area and grabbed their room keys, rejecting the offer of a meal or even a drink. Tom Cook looked like he'd been sleeping on the plane, his hair doing rooster tails where he'd settled into the headrest of the seat. The other man, Billy Williams, looked the opposite. Wired, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“You must get a lot of ribbing about your name.” Cat smiled when she handed him the envelope.

“Why?” Billy's tone was flat, and something in his glance made the hair on the back of Cat's neck stand up. The guy was strange enough to be a character in the mystery books he claimed to write.

“Two first names? William Williams?” When the guy shook his head, she continued. “No matter. Are you sure I can't get you anything before you retire?”

“No.” Tom Cook was already heading upstairs with his bags. Billy spun on his heel and followed.

Shauna waited until we heard the two doors close upstairs. “So that was weird, right?”

“A little.” Cat closed the cabinet over the lobby desk and locked it. “Just wait until I tell you about Sara. These three make the romance sisters seem tame.”

* * *

Cat's alarm went off at five a.m. Even though she trusted Shauna to get the breakfast buffet set out and ready for their guests, she felt a responsibility to make sure everything went smoothly. Just this first time.

Who was she kidding? Cat never slept past six even on weekends. If she wasn't needed in the kitchen, she'd spend the time in her office, working on her manuscript. She quickly showered and dressed for the day, then headed downstairs, following the smell of vanilla bean coffee.

She grabbed a cup off the sideboard in the dining room and filled it before she entered the kitchen. Shauna had been busy. Muffins, butters, and three different kinds of bread sat on the sideboard next to the three coffee pots. V
ANILLA
, D
ARK
, and D
ECAF
signs were laminated and hung on each pot. If guests wandered down early, there was plenty to keep them busy until the main meal arrived.

“Good morning,” she called out as she entered. Cat stopped short inside the kitchen. Shauna wasn't alone. Seth Howard sat at the table, drinking coffee. Shauna set a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of him.

“Good morning yourself. I didn't expect you until last call for breakfast. Usually, you spend your morning in the office.” Shauna grabbed a pitcher of orange juice and filled a glass, holding it out for her. “OJ?”

Cat set her coffee down. “I think I'm good. Can I talk to you?”

“Of course. I have the strata in the oven. Once I'm done slicing up the fruit bowl, I should be ready for guests.” Shauna wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Can I talk to you in the dining room?” Cat raised her eyebrows.

“She wants to know what I'm doing here eating breakfast.” Seth clarified the question. “Good morning, Cat. Nice to see you're still grumpy first thing in the morning.”

“I am not grumpy.” Cat sighed and sat down at the table. “Okay, so I want to know what the heck you're doing here.”

Shauna set a plate in front of her, filled with the same food as Seth's. The smell of bacon made Cat's stomach growl. “It's part of the contract. On weeks we're in session, since he's on call for emergencies during the week, he gets a meal a day, just to make sure he checks in with us.”

Cat decided she really needed to read better the contracts Shauna was asking her to sign. She grabbed a piece of the crunchy bacon and shrugged. “I guess that's okay.”

Seth looked up from reading the morning paper. “I take it you didn't read the fine print?”

She pointed the bacon at him. “Not your concern, mister. Besides, I trust my staff.”

“Well, isn't that just dandy. I'm ‘staff ' now, instead of your best friend.” Shauna sat down at the table and sipped on her coffee. “Next, you'll be having me wear a uniform during our retreat weeks.”

Not a bad idea
. Cat brushed the thought away; no use getting Shauna worked up on the first day of their business adventure. “Look, I didn't mean anything.”

Shauna waved away her apology. “No worries. Eat your breakfast so you'll feel more human.”

They sat in silence for a while, Cat eating, Seth reading the paper and polishing off the food, and Shauna making a list of something in her notebook. Cat caved first and set her fork down. “So, Seth, we're meeting at two?”

“That's the plan.” He didn't look up.

“I don't think that will work today. Can we change our meeting to Tuesday, same time?” Maybe by then she'd have her emotions under control and would be about ready to talk about the attic, not just Seth and their history.

“You're the boss.” He opened the sports page of the paper.

Cat rolled her eyes and decided she'd had enough breakfast. And definitely enough of the company around the table. She took her plate to the sink and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. When Seth was in a room, she could feel his presence, just like always. Heck, she could smell him. Musk, mixed with Stetson cologne and Irish Spring from his shower. Her fingers itched, wanting to touch him. She licked her dry lips before turning around.

“Okay, then, the dining room looks great. Let me know when everyone's eaten, and I'll walk them over to the library.” She glanced at her watch. “Come get me at ten if I'm not down by then.”

She fled out of the room, not waiting for a response. She thought she heard Seth's gentle chuckle, but maybe that was just the wind on the siding. Heading upstairs, she ran into Rose.

“Am I too early for coffee?” Rose looked down at Cat's travel mug.

Cat turned sideways on the stairs and nodded toward the dining room. “Nope, it's all set up. There's a few treats to keep you from starving before Shauna serves a full breakfast at six.” She held up her mug. “And there's a travel mug for each of you so you can take the coffee with you if you want to write in your room or in the living room.”

“Perfect. Daisy's still snoring, so I'll bring my laptop down here.” Rose paused, before asking her question. “So are we the only ones awake?”

“So far.” Cat watched the disappointment on the woman's face. She really had it bad for Tom Cook. Cat would have to watch her closely to make sure she didn't overwhelm the author during the week. Fangirl or not, the guy had paid for a quiet writing retreat, and Cat was going to honor that.

* * *

At ten, the group gathered at the foot of the stairs. Well, most of the group. Sara had left early to work at the library, and Tom wasn't down from his room yet. Cat called up to his room using the reception phone.

“Mr. Cook, we're heading over to the Covington Library to get your passes. I hate to bother you if you're writing, but I told the librarian we'd come together as a group this morning.” Cat waited for an answer, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn't play the celebrity card and ask her to make an exception.

“I'm slipping on my shoes right now. Sorry, I lost track of time.” Tom chuckled over the phone. “Tends to happen when I get writing. I'll be down in a flash.”

When Cat hung up, she saw the anticipation in Rose's face. “We'll be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

Rose leaned over to her sister and whispered. “He's coming.”

Daisy slapped her arm. “I've told you to never say that to a romance writer. Now all I can think of is my next sex scene.”

Cat bit her lip, trying not to laugh. When Tom arrived, she motioned them out on the porch in a group. “So, it's just a quick walk to the library from here. It's open from six in the morning until ten at night, and once you get your cards, you can work there or in the living room.” She pointed to the top floor of the house. “Soon, retreaters will have the attic area to use as well. We're turning it into a cozy den with lots of desks and room to stretch out.”

“It probably has mice,” Billy muttered.

Well, aren't you Mister Sunshine.
She tried to keep her voice neutral. “We don't have a mice problem.”

Billy ignored her comment and caught up to Tom. “So where do you get your ideas? Have you ever stolen one from a critique group member?”

“I've never stolen an idea in my life. Now, it's said there are only seven real plot lines, so I'm sure my books are like other authors' works. But it's all about the voice and how you tell the story.” Tom nodded toward me. “Don't you agree, Cat? I've read your work and you have a strong unique voice, even though you're telling a story set in high school. It's not the setting or the story, it's the characters that we fall in love with as readers.”

Cat nodded, glad Tom was ignoring the pointed jab and turning the question into a discussion point for the group. “
Buffy
was set in a high school, but my work isn't a rip off of that story. Or at least I try not to be the same.”

“Same but different.” Rose piped up. “That's what all the agents quip during the writers' conferences we attend. They want something that they can relate to and sell but isn't already out there.”

“Exactly,” Tom smiled at the older woman, and Cat thought Rose was going to faint. “You need to tell your story and not worry about what everyone else is doing.”

Cat saw Billy staring at Tom, but when he noticed her attention, he turned his head. That one was going to be a problem, she just didn't know why. She'd pull his application and do some research to see if the guy was a real threat or just a blowhard. Maybe having Seth around this week wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

As they crossed campus to the library building, Cat relayed the history of Covington College. Pointing out the different buildings, she focused on the places where they could write or find something to eat and, of course, the bookstore. They were meeting the head librarian, Miss Applebome, for her standard how to use the library lecture. When Cat opened the door to the library, Dean Vargas stood at the counter with Sara next to him.

“Welcome to Covington College,” he boomed, in a not-so-library voice. Cat saw a staff member's head jerk up at the noise, then the woman rolled her eyes and returned to her work. “We are so happy to be working with Catherine and the writer's retreat.”

“I didn't know you wound up back here, Larry.” Tom stepped closer to the dean and held out a hand. “I haven't seen you in what, ten years?”

Dean Vargas shook Tom's hand and then addressed the other members of the group. “Tom and I attended Covington together back in the day. He chose popular culture and I, a more academic field.”

“Tell them the real story.” Tom smiled at Rose and dropped his voice to a fake whisper. “We both were in contention for the hand of the most beautiful English student ever. Linda and I have been married for fifteen years now. And of course, I also left school with the Covington Cup, all four years I might add.”

“I guess the best man won.” Dean Vargas smiled as he spoke, but Cat noticed the emotion didn't hit his eyes.

“You won the cup four years in a row? I thought the cup had only been retired twice?” Cat studied the man. He was a popular and successful author now; she guessed that, back in the day, his professors must have seen that drive in his early years, too. Maybe the cup hadn't always been the popularity contest it had become now.

“The rumor is true. I was the second person in history to take the cup with me at graduation. The guy who did it before me was some sort of poet and wound up teaching at Harvard. Winning the cup is good luck.” Tom slapped Dean Vargas on the back. “Of course, coming in second four years in a row is quite the accomplishment as well.”

“It's a beauty contest, not an academic one.” The dean echoed her original thoughts when Cat had seen the award display earlier that year.

“Sara is this year's recipient.” Cat had seen the girl's face fall with Dean Vargas's words. “I'm sure she worked hard to win.”

“Last year's,” the dean corrected. “She's a grad student this year. But yes, she's quite the accomplished writer. You're working on a coming of age story, correct?”

Sara nodded, but didn't speak.

“Congratulations!” Tom grinned at the girl. “You should come by my room later. I brought the cup along, just for giggles. It isn't every day you get to visit your past.”

“I'm sure the old cup you have is just the same as the one in the display case.” Dean Vargas took a step forward and positioned himself between Tom and Sara.

“Except it has my name engraved on the bottom four times,” Tom countered.

Watching the men posturing, the old saying about teaching versus doing popped into Cat's head. “I didn't know you attended Covington. Small world.”

With the mood broken, Dean Vargas looked at his watch. “Well, I'll let Miss Applebome take over. Enjoy your visit to Aspen Hills.” He slapped Tom on the back. “Stop by my office before you leave and we'll get caught up. Maybe we can have a beer down at Bernie's to celebrate how far we've come from our old, poor student days.”