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Just not yet. Because I needed this break. I deserved it. I’d been working hard, not only at trying to come up with a plot forKitty Katz #27,but at getting Dad to agree he was better off spending the winter months somewhere warm, like this place.

So it was fine for me to take some time off and float on a raft in this beautiful pool with a margarita and read Will’s incredibly crappy new book. No one could judge me for that.

And no one was, since I seemed to be the only person staying at the Parrot who’d had the common sense to think of relaxing in the pool. Garrett had disappeared into his room—102, just below mine and facing the courtyard, so I knew it had nothing like my amazing view—as soon as we’d arrived to “get some work done.”

Sure. Whatever, dude. You get right on that. I’ll be in the pool, readingThe Moment.

I didn’t tell him this, of course, out of fear he might try to join me. Instead, I sunnily answered, “Of course!” when he asked if I’d meet him later in the lobby in time to catch the author bus to the festival’s first event—a cocktail meet-and-greet, followed by a sit-down dinner with donors.

But even as I’d assured him I’d be there, I hadn’t been sure I’d have the guts to actually show. And now, floating in the sun, I was even more certain. Grateful as I was even to be invited to such events—the author everyoneused tolove—I couldn’t help dreading them, even when they didn’t includeWill Price. I, like so many writers, was horrible at making small talk, and even worse at eating and drinking while doing so.

I was hoping an hour or two of floating in the sun would help trigger what Rosie had mentioned had happened to her other author: a sudden rush of artistic inspiration, so I’d actually come up with an idea forKitty Katz #27that felt exciting enough to write down. Two chapters a day? I would take that in a hot New York minute.

What was happening instead was that I was getting sucked into Will Price’s insipid, highly readable prose.

Meeeeee-OW!

Unfortunately, I’d already failed rule number one of relaxing while in the tropics: leaving my phone behind. I realized this when I heard its officialKitty Katzmobile ringtone blare from the towel on which I’d left it at the side of the pool.

Meeeeee-OW!

Because of the book I was holding—the cover carefully bent back so no one would see it was Will Price’s latest—I had to paddle one-handed to reach my phone. It took me quite some time to get there.

Meeeeee-OW!

Oh, no. I’d missed a call from my dad. I quickly called him back.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me. Is everything okay?”

Dad’s voice, rough from years of singing with his folk-rock group (that had never become popular enough to earn any money, but had a large enough cult following that heremained hopeful), said calmly, “Of course everything’s okay. You’re the one who never called when you got in. I thought we had a deal? You’re always supposed to call.”

“Of course.” I winced guiltily. “Sorry, Dad. I got in okay. Guess where I am right now?”

“Hmmm, let me see. Boise, Idaho.”

Laughing, I said, “No, Dad, I told you before I left. At a book festival in the Florida Keys. But guess where I am right this minute.”

“Since it’s the Florida Keys, I’m going to guess a bar. Green Parrot in Key West? You know the boys and I once played there. Sonny got so drunk, he—”

“No. Floating on a raft in the hotel pool on Little Bridge Island, drinking a margarita.”

“Sounds terrible. Get out of there!”

“Dad, stop it.” I was still laughing. As much as my dad frustrated me sometimes, he could always make me laugh. “You know this could be your life if you’d just take my advice. Did you manage to watch the virtual tour of that place in Mount Dora?”

“Oh, I saw it.”

He did not sound pleased. Still, I barreled on, keeping my voice chipper.

“And? What did you think? It’s a nice place, right? Better than the last one.”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly? This one has everything you’ve been asking for: all on one level, with a nice yard and even a detached garage for you to practice in.”

“Yeah,” my father said, “but did you look at the neighbors’ garbage cans?”

“What do you mean, the neighbors’ garbage cans?”