Page 12 of Novel Problems

“Maybe a biography or something similar for Blake, a fantasy novel for Dad, and a romance novel for Mom? You’ve probably got a better idea than me what they like. I’m giving Dave two kid-free date nights with Aunty Olivia on twin-sitting duties, so we don’t need to worry about him.” Olivia grimaced. “I just hope I survive the chaos of the twin tornado.”

George laughed. “You might need Blake for reinforcements.” Her smile widened. “I actually have the perfect idea for your dad. We both love H. M. Stuart, and I just got a whole pile of his latest release delivered. The release date isn’t until the end of June, so I can’t give it to you now. But if I had it wrapped and ready to go by then, would that work?”

I paused my scrubbing of the display case for a second. When I’d been offered my book deal, I’d insisted on using my initials and a different last name for anonymity. While Tania, who at that point was still only my editor and not my partner, was sympathetic to my request, it was not well-received by senior management at the publisher who expected authors to market their books. Tania had fought hard to convince her bosses to respect my desire for privacy, and one of the arguments she’d made was that one “benefit” of the arrangement would be that many readers would assume I was a man. According to Tania, there was a bias infavor of male fantasy writers. And she was right. My publisher had been careful not to specify my gender and I’d been surprised at just how many people assumed H. M. Stuart was a man—including, it seemed, George. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that, but since I’d also assumed George was a man based on her name, I couldn’t exactly be too critical. And hearing her recommend my book lit a warm glow in my chest.

“Perfect!” Olivia exclaimed.

George paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I think your mom would love Abby Jimenez’s latest. It’s got great banter, some laugh-out-loud moments, but it also explores some deeper issues.”

My smile reflected in the now gleaming display case. Abby Jimenez was one of my favorite authors of straight romance too.

“That sounds just up her alley. And then I can read it once she’s finished with it.”

“And for Blake, let me see…” George wandered toward the non-fiction aisle, Olivia following. They returned a few minutes later, Olivia holding a grim-looking political-history book as well as Ashley Herring Blake’sIris Kelly Doesn’t Date. That was interesting. Presumably, the political-history book was for the Blake person she’d mentioned. Was the sapphic romance for Olivia or someone else? I loved that book. I’d related so strongly to both characters—one a romance author with writer’s block, and the other, an actor who had anxiety and panic attacks. Had George recommended it?

I’d stopped scrubbing the display case of non-existent marks and was now wiping the counter of invisible crumbs. While I felt guilty for being so nosy, my guilt wasn’t strong enough to overcome my desire to hear the rest of theirconversation. For some reason, I was keen to find out as much as I could about George.

George processed the payment, wrapped the books, and handed them to Olivia in a paper bag. “Here you go!”

“Thanks! It’s so good to have this all settled now.” Olivia gave George a relieved smile. “I’ll be back later with the flowers and candles.”

Flowers and candles? I furrowed my brow, unsettled. Were they planning a romantic night together? They would make an extremely cute couple, but I hadn’t picked up on any romantic undertones in their interactions. Although, Olivia had bought a sapphic romance… A sinking sensation in my stomach signaled disappointment. I shook it off.Don’t be silly, Hannah. You hardly know George. And the last thing you need right now is a new relationship.

A customer stood from a table as Olivia left the store, so I walked over to clear it. On my way back from dropping the dirty plates to the kitchen, I passed George standing in front of Hugo frothing milk. She turned to me and grinned. “I just sold one copy ofThe Realm of Furies. One down, only eight-hundred and forty left to go. Which reminds me, I really need to call the distributor about the delivery so I don’t need to hand sell the rest!”

My stomach dropped even further at the prospect of George calling the distributor. They’d likely put her in touch with the publisher, who’d fill her in on the real reason why 841 books had been delivered to her doorstep. Would George connect the dots and work out who I was?Probably not since she thinks H. M. Stuart is a man.

The flowers and candles comment made sense twenty minutes later, when Olivia reappeared with a cart full of colorful bouquets and candles. I’d just delivered a coffee to a customer at a nearby table, so I rushed to help herwith the door, trying not to look too pleased that Olivia’s delivery was clearly for the café, rather than to woo George.

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled at me.

“Hannah, this is Olivia.” George materialized behind me. “She owns the flower shop down the road and supplies us with flowers for the tables. We also sell her candles. Olivia, Hannah just started working here yesterday.”

Olivia dropped the cart’s handle and reached out her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Hannah. I’m sorry I don’t have time to chat, but I’ve got to rush off to open up.”

I shook Olivia’s hand and then helped her replace the slightly wilted white daisies with bright bunches of yellow and red zinnias while George restocked the shelf next to the counter with rustic-looking candles in brown glass jars.

“See you tonight!” Olivia said to George as she left. The unsettled feeling descended over me again. Perhaps there was something going on between them after all.Not that I care. They both seem like lovely people. I should be happy for them.

The next few times a woman came in by herself, my chest tightened in anticipation that they might be the real jobseeker whose position I’d taken. But as the morning rush took hold, my worries vanished, and I focused on the tasks at hand—delivering slices of cake and coffees to customers, clearing tables, helping an elderly man locate a gardening book, and, when George was swamped with making coffee, putting through orders and taking payments. I even made a few decent-looking coffees while George took a quick break to use the restroom. I didn’t have any problems with the payment system, but I did struggle to hear as the café got busier, especially soft-spoken customers. I hated having to ask people to repeat themselves multiple times, some doing so with a hint of frustration in their voice. It reminded me ofTania, who hadn’t been particularly patient in those situations.I just need to find my damn hearing aid.Hearing aid technology had come far in the past few decades, so much so that my hearing aid was barely noticeable when I wore it. The only downside was that my hearing aid was now so small it was easy to misplace. I was sure it would turn up somewhere—hopefully sooner rather than later.

“Would you like to go for a break now, before the lunch rush starts?” George asked.

I looked at the bronze clock on the wall, surprised to see it was already 11:30 a.m. I’d eaten breakfast early today, sitting out on the back deck, enjoying my yogurt and granola, and was definitely ready for some more food.

I grabbed a pre-made bagel from the display case and took a seat at the same table I’d sat at yesterday, facing the counter. I told myself it was so I could monitor how busy the café was getting, in case George needed me to jump back in to help, and had nothing to do with being able to observe my rather attractive boss from a safe distance.

To distract myself, I scrolled through my emails as I devoured the bagel. Spam. Spam. Emma.

Hi, Hannah,

I hope you’re settling in well. I wanted to check if you'll be able to sign the books this week? I need to tell the publisher when they’re done so they can arrange the pick-up. They want to get them back ASAP so they can get them ready for distribution before the publication date–Friday is the absolute latest.

Many thanks,

Emma

Shit.I’d been so focused on my new job that the whole reason I’d come to Novel Gossip in the first place had taken a backseat in my mind. My heart sank. I’d beenworried about Ben and the women who’d approached him for a job returning to the café and blowing my cover, but now I’d have to do it myself. Today was Wednesday, so Friday was only two days away.

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