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“Oh, you two are so adorable together.” Kellyjean, who had finished up with her line, came sauntering over, her eyes sparking playfully over what she considered her brilliantwitticism. “Ha-ha! Am I right? Aren’t these two always arguing just like an old married couple?”

I thought I might evaporate from embarrassment right there, and Will didn’t look particularly pleased, either, judging by the way he white-knuckled the pen he was holding.

“Oh, come on,” Kellyjean went on. She never knew when to quit. “You agree with me, right, Garrett?”

Garrett did not appear to appreciate Kellyjean’s comment any more than Will or I had. He was finishing up one last autograph—which of course included an elaborateDark Magic Schoolillustration—for an eager young fan. “Um, not really,” he said.

Lauren seemed to decide it was time to bring the subject back around to what mattered most: herself. She lifted her wheelie suitcase and placed it, with a thump, on my table, then opened it.

“I really hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but it’s always been my dream to get these signed by you.”

I watched as she began removing from the suitcase, one by one, all twenty-six books in the Kitty Katz, Kitten Sitter series, then stacking them in front of me.

“You don’t have to personalize them,” she said, apparently noticing my stunned expression. “But if you could sign them all, that would be great.”

“Of course I’ll personalize them.” I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. I’d suspected upon noticing the suitcase that she might have broughtsomeof the Kitty Katz books with her, but notallof them. “You brought these all the way fromCanada?”

“Not just these.” Lauren twinkled at Will, who was also watching her with disbelief as she dug more deeply into the suitcase. “I’ve got some for you, too, Will!” Out came every book that Will had ever written, as well, each almost as battered and well loved as the copies ofKitty Katz. “Your books mean so much to me. Kitty Katz made me want to be a writer, but your books, Will, taught me what it means to be a woman.”

Oh.No.

“Well, thank you.” Will began scribbling away. “It means so much to me to hear you say that.”

Which was exactly whatI’dbeen saying to every reader who’d come up to my table in response to their telling me that a Kitty book had meant something to them. Was it possible that Will was doing the one thing so many of my girlfriends had assured me that Justin—or any man—would never, ever do: change?

No. It couldn’t be.

Except itdidhappen sometimes... but usually only in books. InThe Moment, for instance, Johnny Kane was turning from a lawless criminal into a tender lover for Melanie West.

“You’re very welcome,” I said to Lauren, practically hurling her books back to her as I signed each one, I was so eager to get out of there and tell Bernadette what had happened. Because of course Bernadette, finished with her signing line, had wandered away to order a drink from the cocktail wagon. (Yes! The Little Bridge Book Festival had a cocktail wagon that served alcoholic beverages to festival attendees, right there in the parking lot.) “Am I, uh, going to see you later?” Icouldn’t just take off and run when this girl had been such an awesome fan and bought so many of my books (in the past, not new at this event—not that I had any new books for her to buy). “Maybe tonight, at the banquet?”

“I’llbe there.” Jasmine was sucking noisily on the remnants of her coconut water. “I don’t know about Lauren. She’s going to be too busy writing.”

Their other friend, Cassidy, who’d been watching Will sign the half dozen copies ofThe Momentshe was buying for her friends, apparently having decided against the chest-signing request, looked up and said, “Oh my God,yes. On TripAdvisor it says that Cracked, where they’re having the party, has like thefreshestseafood on the whole island.”

“You really ought to come tonight, Lauren.” Garrett was still working on his drawing for a young fan, a small boy in an actual wizard cape whose father looked as thrilled to be receiving a Garrett Newcombe original as he did. “I agree with Jo that you should take all the advantage you can of being in such a beautiful place. It will definitely give you something to write about when you get home to Canada.”

Lauren raised her perfectly plucked—or possibly waxed or threaded—eyebrows. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh, definitely.” Garrett examined his drawing, then, apparently dissatisfied with his work, bent to add a finishing touch. “I know Will here thinks the way a book gets written is with discipline, and of course that’s true. But you’ll never be able to write anything if you haven’t experienced anything to write about.”

I was a little irritated to hear Garrett “You Are My Sunshine”Newcombe, of all people, so perfectly sum up my own thoughts on the matter.

But I was less irritated when I saw how much it made Will frown... especially when Lauren beamed at Garrett and asked, “You really think so?”

“Oh, I know so. Plus, I’m going to be performing an act of dematerialization at the dinner that you aren’t going to want to miss. It’ll be an experience I suspect you’ll want to write about.”

“Dematerialization?” Lauren glanced at her friends, who were giggling at each other, most likely because of the number of times the word “dematerialize” had been used. “Okay, cool. I’ll be there.”

Garrett smiled at Lauren like a kindly uncle, then handed the kid in the wizard cape the book he’d been drawing in. “Here you go, Dylan. And here’s an officialDark Magic Schoolnumber eleven commemorative guild piece to go with it.”

“Gee, thanks!” Dylan—and his appreciative father—looked ecstatic.

It was at that moment that Chloe came bouncing over. She’d been working with the other Snappettes at managing the line, putting Post-it notes on the covers of all the readers’ books so we’d be sure to spell their names rights (it was important, if someone had a name like Michelle or Alyssa, that we knew how manyl’s ors’s it had).

But now that almost everyone had departed for the scheduled conch chowder luncheon, she was leading around a dark-haired boy who wore an expensive-looking Leica camera around his neck.

“Miss Wright, this is Elijah.” Chloe pointed at the boy. “He’s the festival’s official photographer.”