Free Permanently Booked by Lisa Q. Mathews

adorned her the middle finger of her right hand.
    “Um, nice to meet you.” Summer seemed nervous, physically caught between Dash’s adoring little girl and his intimidating mother.
    Not intimidating, Dorothy corrected herself. Dramatic, maybe. Perhaps Georgiana had been on the Broadway stage before she’d embarked upon her writing career.
    “And you are the lovely Dorothy Westin—and you, of course, are Dorothy’s very close friend, Ernie Conlon.” Georgiana settled back in her chair, looking a tad smug.
    Goodness. Dorothy felt her face grow warm as she glanced at Ernie. The two of them were indeed dear friends, but strictly nothing more. Ernie was married to a wonderful woman, Grace, who had Alzheimer’s. The Conlons had a full-time caretaker living with them now, so Ernie was able to leave the condo for short spells, but he was entirely devoted to Grace, of course.
    “Nice to meet you.” Even Ernie’s hand looked small in Georgiana’s grasp.
    “I’m such a big fan of all your books,” Dorothy said. “Especially the last one, Good Night , Sweetheart. I was on the edge of my seat.”
    Georgiana took a lengthy sip of her Manhattan. “Thank you. I always try to maintain suspense at the highest pitch possible, until the very final page. That’s what keeps my readers coming back for more.”
    GH Hamel wasn’t the most modest person Dorothy had ever met. But the author was enormously successful and clearly worked hard at her craft, so she’d earned the right to boast a bit. She just had one of those large personalities.
    Much like, say, Gladys Rumway.
    “Now, Mother,” Dash said, handing Dorothy a glass of Chardonnay and Ernie a Scotch on the rocks. “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about writing tonight.”
    “True,” Georgiana said. “Trust me, I had plenty of literary discussion at that delicious independent bookstore I stopped at on the way from the airport—what was the name of it, now? Ah yes. Murder by the Sea.”
    “So, did anyone recognize you?” Summer shook her head as Juliette-Margot offered her a silver hors-d’oeuvre plate of escargots steamed in heavy garlic and butter.
    “Well, of course.” Georgiana seemed a bit taken aback by the question. “They were surprised, I suppose, but very glad to see me. I signed a few stacks of my new book for them—hot off the press from my publisher. They were still in the boxes at the back of the store, in fact. Technically, the on-sale date is—”
    “Mother,” Dash warned.
    Dorothy hid a smile. Georgiana had only been in town for a few hours, and her son already sounded tired.
    “So you didn’t tell them when you were coming?” Ernie asked.
    Georgiana gave a dismissive wave. “Oh no. I rarely give advance warning of my promotional appearances. So much more amusing that way. And I never have to worry about people not showing up for one of my signings.”
    My , Dorothy thought. What an unusual approach. And perhaps a bit inconvenient for the poor booksellers.
    The author leaned forward in her chair. “I jest, of course. I like to keep booksellers on their toes and make sure my books are highly visible. Also, it helps keep the crowds and the writer’s cramp from all those signings at manageable levels.”
    Somehow Dorothy doubted that GH Hamel preferred the presence of fewer fans. In fact, she suspected Georgiana failed to schedule her bookstore visits because she enjoyed the high drama and flurry of a spur-of-the-moment arrival.
    “I’ll be sure to sign a copy of my new book to you, though, Dorothy,” Georgiana added. “I’m going in more of a historical direction on this one. The title is Murder in the Moorlands , and it’s about a penniless young American woman who must solve a nineteenth-century murder at the family seat in Devonshire to earn an unexpected inheritance. In the process, she wins the heart of a handsome duke.”
    “Thank you, it sounds fascinating,” Dorothy said. “I so enjoyed that setting in The