Jo picked up a pitcher of mix and dumped it over the ice in the blender, then poured in a generous amount of tequila. “Prepare to watch the lights dim,” she called and turned on the blender.
Less than a minute later, Liz was pouring the slushy concoction into glasses. She took them into the living room where the other women had claimed seats on the worn sofa and the floor. Someone had pulled in battered chairs from the dining room. She did her best to smile and keep things normal. Everyone else was. Apparently that’s how Crystal wanted things.
Dakota and Nevada sat together; but Montana jumped up the second Liz entered.
“I was telling everyone about the signing.”
Pia rolled her eyes. “Montana, I swear. You’re as subtle as an elephant. We agreed not to bug Liz about the signing.”
Crystal looked up from her place nestled in the corner of the couch. “Don’t you like signings?” she asked.
“I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here,” Liz admitted.
Conversation shifted to events in town. There was talk of the new hospital being built and rumors about ex-football star Raoul Moreno moving to town.
“He’s very good-looking,” Montana said with a sigh.
“Interested?” her sister Dakota asked.
“Not for me, but maybe we could fix him up with Liz and she would be so grateful, she’d do the signing.”
Pia groaned and leaned back against the wall. “You have a one-track mind.”
Dakota laughed. “She’s the stubborn one. And before any of the rumors get out of hand, yes, Raoul is thinking of settling here in Fool’s Gold. He likes the small-town feel.”
Topics shifted to other people, the general lack of men and what was being done about bringing more of them to town. Charity Jones, the new city planner, was teased about capturing the heart of Josh Golden, the last great eligible bachelor. Although everyone seemed comfortable with Raoul Moreno claiming the title. Liz thought about pointing out that Ethan was single, but was afraid it would stir up memories of their very public breakup all those years ago.
The talk was comfortable, if not exactly familiar, Liz thought. Growing up, she’d never felt as if she were part of the community, but maybe some of that was her fault. Sitting in the living room where she’d lived, getting slightly buzzed on margaritas, hanging out with women she hadn’t seen in years, she felt a sense of loss. That maybe the friends she’d been looking for all those years ago had been right in front of her. If only she’d bothered to look.
Not Pia, she thought, watching the now charming woman laugh at something Crystal said. Their relationship had been a little too “mean girl” for her liking. But what about Crystal or even Ethan’s sisters?
Her experiences in high school had made her cautious about making friends with other women. But maybe she’d been too quick to walk away from something important. Something she’d realized she was missing.
Her gaze slipped to Crystal who, despite her illness, appeared happy and content. Talk about having character. Liz had a feeling she was more the curl-up-and-whimper type.
“Am I allowed to ask how you started writing?” Montana inquired, interrupting Liz’s thoughts. “That’s not the same as talking about the signing.”
Liz laughed. “You’re right. It’s not even close.”
“Tell her it’s because of me you’re famous,” Crystal called out.
“It’s true,” Liz agreed. “Crystal told me I had talent and to never forget that.”
Pia was next to her friend and grabbed her hand. “You’re such a good person. It’s intimidating. Tell me again, why do I like you?”
Everyone laughed.
“Seriously,” Montana pressed. “How did you start?”
“I wrote a short story about a man who was murdered and found I couldn’t let the idea go,” Liz explained. “It kept getting bigger in my mind.”
She left out the part about the cathartic nature of killing Ethan over and over again. At least in fiction. It was kind of a writer thing and she doubted anyone else would understand that it didn’t mean she was dangerous or creepy.
“I was alone with a baby and I couldn’t afford cable,” she continued. “Writing felt like a way to escape the pressure.”
Crystal turned to her. “Where did you go when you left here?”
“San Francisco.”
Liz had the feeling there were going to be more questions but just then Jo appeared with another pitcher of margaritas and the conversation shifted to the various summer festivals. Montana grinned at Liz.
“If you would just agree to sign,” she began, “we would have the best festival ever.”
It was one book signing, Liz thought. She did them all the time. So what if it was here? She could handle a couple of hours at a table, talking to her fans. And Liz appreciated that Montana was the only Hendrix still speaking to her.
“Sure,” she said.
Montana straightened. “Seriously?”