Page 109 of Whisper Sweet Nothings
“It is. And coming here has just been filled with so many unexpected surprises that I didn’t see coming,” I said.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lulu said. “You make boozy book brunch even better. And we get the perks of reading all your books early,” she added with a laugh.
Aunt Edith walked over with fresh mimosas and set them down.
“I wanted to ask you a favor, while your uncle is in the back eating far too many blueberry pancakes,” she said, leaning over the table as she faced me.
“Of course. Anything.”
“Well, the man is driving me crazy because he has basically confiscated my laptop because his keeps freezing up and is having all sorts of issues. I’ve tried to get him to go into the city and have it looked at, but you know how stubborn that man can be,” she said, and we all chuckled.
“Do you want me to take him into the city?” I asked.
“No. He won’t do it. And we aren’t tech savvy, but I thought maybe you could look at it and see if you could fix it? It could be something simple. He likes to get on there and write poetry just to keep his writer brain sharp. But now he’s on my computer every night instead, which means I don’t have one to use now.”
“I’d be happy to look at it. And Archer is pretty good with that stuff, too.” I smiled up at her.
“Bridger could check it out if you can’t figure it out,” Emilia said as she reached for her glass.
Bridger was a billionaire IT guy, so if Archer and I couldn’t figure it out, we’d definitely ask him.
“Ahh… that would be great.” Edith sighed. “Don’t tell him I said anything, because he won’t want to bother you with it. I’ll drop it by your place later today.”
“You’ve got it. My lips are sealed, and I’ll try to get that fixed so you can have your laptop back.”
“Thanks, doll,” she said as she walked off.
“Ummm… Oscar writes poetry?” Lulu gaped at me.
“He does. He’s actually the reason that I got into writing.” I leaned in, keeping my voice low. “Oscar was a famous author back in the day. Have I not told you this?”
“Oscar Smith was an author?” Wren asked, her brows cinched together as if this was the most puzzling thing she’d ever heard. “I’m surprised ‘The Taylor Tea’ hasn’t vetted this out.”
“Right? Probably because he doesn’t talk about it, but he was pretty famous. He wrote fifty-seven books before retiring over a decade ago. His pen name was James Covington. He wrote thrillers, and he had a huge following.”
“Shut up!” Eloise gasped before her hands moved to cover her mouth, which was now hanging open. “Oscar is James Covington. I’ve read everything he’s ever written. He’s brilliant. I literally binged his books within a couple of months when I was in college.”
“I’m shook.” Emilia’s eyes were wide. “I’ve also read everything he’s written. How is this not known?”
“He’s pretty private about it, but it’s not like it’s a secret, really. They moved full-time to Rosewood River after he retired and opened the café, and he just left that life behind him. But he’s always encouraged me to write, and he’s been my biggest cheerleader.”
“Clearly ‘The Taylor Tea’ is for amateurs. We’ve got two big-time authors living in our small town, and the people here are completely unaware.”
“Well, some things are meant to stay private,” Henley said with a chuckle. “But I’m glad we know this little secret because I will be diving into those books right away.”
Eloise told her where to start on his backlist, and they all agreed to keep his past career a secret.
I was grateful that I’d found such amazing friends in these women.
They felt like family.
And this town felt like home.
twenty-nine
. . .
Archer
