Page 94 of Betting on the Best Friend
Luckily for all of us, Emma St. Clair is both gracious and entertaining, sharing stories of how her own mishaps and shenanigans have shaped the comedy in her novels.
We stand at our original spot against the back wall as we pretend to confer. I keep an eye on Niles and don’t care if he catches me, meeting his eyes with cool amusement. Just a small twist of the knife. If he’s not regretting his decision to invade Ruby’s space, then I’m not trying hard enough.
After Emma St. Clair finishes with her Q&A, Sandy rises to announce that we have chosen the winners, and that afterthey’re recognized, our patrons are invited to wander through our event boutique, a display in the front of the library with tables full of bookish and tea-related baskets for purchase.
Ruby walks to hand Sandy a fancy envelope, which Sandy takes with great ceremony, opening it to read, “This year’s winning fascinator is adorning the stylish head of Miss Viola Wintergreen!”
“Dibs on stealing her name for a children’s book,” Ruby murmurs as Viola comes to claim her prize. Her fascinator is an architectural wonder of butterflies. From a few years of the popular Bug Man Story Time enrichment program, I recognize them all as colorful Texas species. Tropical leafwings, Laviana white-skippers, snout-noses, Mexican bluewings, and pale green lyside sulphurs cluster, their silk-and-feather wings quivering to give the effect of at least a dozen of them alighting on her head.
Her prize is a bouquet of native plants from the grounds of the Canyon Vista estate, Austin’s perennial (oh, I need to tell Ruby that one) winner for a private residence garden. This doesn’t mean a ton to me, but our attendees love it.
Then the real prize is announced, and it’s Mr. Edward Silva, who wins for the best table setting, having gone with aLonesome Dovetheme. I know enough aboutLonesome Doveto think it might be at odds spiritually with a high tea setting, but Texas has a long history of strange bedfellows. He gets a grand prize blue satin ribbon and a crystal cake stand.
“Congratulations to our winners,” Sandy announces, and Ruby and I are already heading to supervise the boutique, her instructions to the guests following us out of the room. “Ms. St. Clair will be signing copies of her novel,Doggone Love, which you’ll each receive as part of your Tea and Tales experience today. Please make your way . . .”
Our event room opens right off the main entrance, and there’s a generous amount of open space in front of the circulation deskbefore the collections begin. Ten tables display signed books, author experiences, library VIP privileges, and other items patrons will snap up, and the author signing table.
Our job will be to stay out of the way but monitor the boutique in case someone has a question or needs help. We station ourselves in front of the children’s section and watch, the thrum of conversation growing louder, punctuated by exclamations and laughs as the guests stream out.
“What do I do about Niles?” Ruby asks.
We’re both watching for him. “My vote is making sure he doesn’t get anything he wants.”
“So no attention, no audience.”
I jerk my head behind us, and we melt into the stacks. We’ll see Niles when he comes out, but he’ll have to look pretty hard for us.
It’s not long before he emerges. Tally heads straight toward one of the tables to coo over a tea basket, Niles following at a stiff march, head on a swivel. “He’s looking for you.”
She shakes her head. “No, for us. The idea of us is torturing him.”
Same, buddy.
Several minutes go by, and while we watch for any guests who might want help, I’m watching Niles too. When Tally starts browsing a table displaying jewelry, he draws her away, moving toward the bookshelves.
“Retreat?” Ruby asks.
We do, moving down the row until we reach a break and step behind the shelves, putting us at the back of the children’s section.
“I’m not avoiding him,” Ruby says.
“I know. You’re depriving him of an audience.”
But when we lean our heads around opposite sides of the bookshelf to check on the boutique, we both laugh.
It only takes a couple of minutes before Niles is outside of the main boutique area and near the front of the children’s shelves, close enough for us to hear his conversation with Tally even if we weren’t eavesdropping. But we are.
“Why does it matter, honey?” Tally asks.
“Because she always said there was nothing going on with them, and she acted like I was crazy for bringing it up.”
“It only matters if you still care,” Tally says. “Do you? Coming here is weird, and I should have said no.”
Ruby gives me a look that suggests she’s impressed with Tally’s backbone here.
I’d be more impressed if she’d shown it by refusing to come at all, but fine. Tally gets a half point.
“You saw how she is,” Niles says. “All high and mighty like she’s a saint for working in the public library. That’s how she was when I broke up with her too.”
