Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

A fter filling Uncle Pete in on their discussion, he sat back and wiped his mouth. “I’ve never heard that before. I’m not doubting your source, but Maggie Martin? She was head of the PTA for over twenty years once her kids entered school.”

“Professor Turner rarely gossips, and I don’t think he would have told us this if he wasn’t genuinely concerned,” Shauna finished her lunch. “I have an apple pie if anyone wants dessert.”

“I’ll have a slice,” Seth ate the last bite of chili and took the bowl to the sink. “You’ve been busy this morning.”

Shauna cut four slices and brought the plates to the table with the whipped cream dispenser. “I bake when I’m anxious.”

Uncle Pete let her take his empty chili bowl and replace it with a dessert plate. “Are you sure this town is the best place for you? I think we’re going to bake you to a frenzy.”

“Not funny, Uncle Pete,” Cat picked up her phone and texted Dante. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. “Okay, here’s the answer. According to Dante, Maggie is related, her brother runs a family in Detroit, but she’s never been active.”

Seth leaned back in his chair and met Cat’s gaze. “Huh.”

She watched as he went back to finishing his pie. “Is that all you wanted to say? Or did you have to raise your blood sugar before you could continue?”

He licked the last of the pie off his fork and smiled. “Good grub, Shauna. And no, I was just thinking. If Maggie’s never been active, how did Turner know she was family? Is there a connection between the two?”

Everyone around the table stopped and Uncle Pete whistled. He pulled out a notebook and wrote something down. Then he put it away and finished his pie. “Sometimes out of the mouths of babes.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve got to go. Things to do and people to see,” Seth put his plate in the sink. “Pete, always a pleasure. Let me know when you’re ready to redo that bathroom. Shirley’s been sending me paint colors.”

“Of course she has,” Uncle Pete stood and pulled on his coat. “I’ve got some calls to make. Always good seeing family.”

After her uncle had left, Cat went to rinse off her dessert plate. “He sounded like he almost meant it. Shirley is invested in getting his house updated. Do you think she’s planning on moving here or hoping he gets a good price when he sells and moves to Alaska with her?”

“Could be either, but it’s not your business. If Pete moves and you’re missing family we could sell the Victorian and move to Florida. I’m sure a writers' retreat by the beach would be lovely as well.” Shauna started putting the leftovers away.

“Bite your tongue. Then I’d be close to my parents. I like having a little family around, but the folks are just a little too much. Besides, I don’t think we’d get Seth to move. He’s always been a mountain man type.”

“Oh, who are we talking about,” Nan came into the kitchen with two carafes. “Sorry to bother you but we’re all of coffee and I need a few cups to get writing.”

Shauna took and put the carafes into the sink, then filled the two that were sitting by the coffee maker. “I meant to refill before you all got back from lunch, but we had a visitor that distracted me.”

“That handsome man who threw Saturday night’s party, I hope. He was eye candy.” Nan smiled as Cat and Shauna stared at her. “Don’t judge. I may be older, but I’m not dead.”

Cat nodded. “Good for you. And on that note, I’m heading upstairs to write. I hope your writing day is productive.”

“Oh, honey. I’ve already written more words in the short time I’ve been here than I did all last month. This place is a godsend.”

Cat nodded. “That’s why we do it. And why it’s structured with a lot of free writing time. I’m sure you can entertain yourself at home by learning craft and marketing skills. Here it’s just about the words.”

“And the King or Queen cup,” Shauna reminded her.

Cat hadn’t mentioned the cup yet. She’d bring it up tonight when she checked in. And she still needed Maggie’s goal sheet unless it was in the basket on the front desk now. As Cat left the kitchen, she heard Nan ask, “What’s the Queen cup?”

Maggie’s sheet was in the box. And as typically with an older adult learner, she’d over planned the week with what she could get done. Especially with her leaving the retreat tomorrow night to do an event with her husband. She’d pull her aside tonight before the word sprints started and see if they could decrease her word count goal.

Cat found when she had big word count goals that unless it was at the end of the book and she knew exactly what needed to be hit as she wrote, the first of the week was fine, but she’d find herself burned out in the middle and needing a break from writing.

Cat didn’t believe in writer's block, but she knew that you sometimes needed time away from your project, especially as a new writer. to think about the plot and characters. That held doubly true if the writer was a pantser or gardener like she was. Plotters knew exactly what they were going to write when they sat down because they had outlined the entire book in advance.

That seemed like torture to her.

Maybe Maggie was a plotter. Thinking about Maggie got her thinking about her connection to the families who ran Covington. Dante hadn’t thought Maggie was involved at all, yet Professor Turner was concerned. Had she threatened him before with power that she might not have?

This is why she liked writing. When the questions piled up, Cat just made up a solution or pointed the main character at another character. As long as the result was logical, she could do that. In real life, her uncle needed solid evidence to charge someone with murder.

She hurried up the stairs, clutching Maggie’s goal sheet in her hand. All she could do was what was in her circle of control. And right now, finding Allen’s killer and who was setting up Dante wasn’t part of that circle.

She just hoped her uncle found the culprit before he had to charge Dante with something he didn’t do.

Attending magic classes at a specialized college and passing trigonometry with at least a B was easier to think about. Even if Tori was making a pros and cons list between two suiters. Cat opened her office door and fell into the fictional world she was creating.

The real world would have to wait until she hit her minimum word count for the day.

When Cat came up for air, and a soda from her office fridge, she highlighted and had the program count her words. She’d hit her word count plus a little more, which would give her some leeway during the editing process. She saved her document and sent it to her email account. Then she scanned her email account for anything important. Why did every time she bought something online the system made her give out her email? Which meant she got a newsletter, and sales flyer, and updates on her shipping, once, twice, or even several times a day.

She needed to make a sign-up-only address that she could use and unsubscribe from all of these. But then she’d need to sort through the new email account when she needed to check on something. It might save her time, though. She wrote the idea down on a sheet of paper called, Things to think about after the book/retreat is done.

The page was already full and Cat hadn’t scratched off anything yet. Maybe she would get some of these things done during the next free period she had available. Or she’d just have to start scanning it daily to see if she could do anything on the list quickly.

She looked at the first item. Check the webpage to see if she needed to update it. She glanced at her watch. If she ate dinner after the first-word sprint, she could get this done now. If she needed an update, she’d just do it now or put what she couldn’t get done in her planner for tomorrow. And her ‘system’ would have one item crossed off.

She set an alarm for five, then opened her website and started making notes. She got them all done and sent an email to her web designer on anything she couldn’t fix herself. She was a to-do-list rock star. She needed to use this as an example for tomorrow’s Ask-the-Author session.

Sometimes things don’t take as long as you expect them to take. So just do it, to steal an old phrase from Nike.

Happy with her progress for the day, she shut off the computer and grabbed the folder where she’d put all of the goal sheets. As soon as she pulled Maggie aside, she knew one or more of the others would have questions about what she thought about their goals. It always happened.

She locked her office and headed downstairs. She gave the writers free range of the house, except the other bedrooms, her office, and Seth’s apartment. The prize spot was always the den. It had been Michael’s office and the decor screamed old money den. One of these days she was going to find and hang an old-fashioned smoking jacket on the back of the door. Just for the look.

As she stepped off the stairs, she saw several authors heading to the living room with a travel cup and a plate of treats. She went to the dining room first to grab water and a couple of cookies so her stomach wouldn’t growl. She set her food down in the living room, then she looked for Maggie.

Maggie wasn’t in the living room so Cat continued to search. Cat found her in the den. She started to push the door all the way open and come inside when she realized that Maggie was talking on her phone.

“I don’t care what it looks like, Martin. I’m enjoying myself here and taking some well-deserved me time. I’ll go to the stupid funeral, but after that, you need to forget I exist until Sunday when I come home. That shouldn’t be so hard, right?”

Cat didn’t hear anything else so she knocked and stepped into the room, like she’d just got there. “Hi Maggie, I was wondering if we could chat for a minute about your goals?”

Maggie lifted her head from where she’d been resting it on the desk. Tears glistened on her face.

“Oh, dear. What’s going on?” Cat ran to the attached bath and grabbed some Kleenex. She held them out as she asked, “Are you okay?”

Maggie took the tissues and wiped her eyes, nodding. “Sorry, a spat with Martin, I’m afraid. He didn’t take my impulsiveness kindly when I decided to come here. But really, a woman should have the freedom to learn what she wants, right?”

Cat smiled, “I believe so, but then again, I’m divorced.”

Maggie choked out a laugh. “I don’t think anyone should have to choose between a relationship and what she wants. It’s not like I’m off shopping in Paris. I’m across town for goodness sake.”

“Maybe that’s the problem, you’re too close,” Cat sat down on one of the chairs. “He thinks you can just come over and fix whatever’s broken. You’re probably great at taking care of everything.”

“I am. He called this morning to ask what tie he should wear,” Maggie laughed again, wiping her eyes one last time. “I guess I made this man child, now I just need to let him know he needs to grow up.”

“I’d put a little of the blame on his mom too,” Cat smiled as she looked at her watch. “Should I tell them you’ll be a few minutes?”

“No, I’m fine. See, even here I jump up to volunteer to run everything as soon as an opening happens. When did I become Wonder Woman?” Maggie gathered her things.

Cat wanted to ask about her family but decided it wasn’t the time. Instead, she hit on what Maggie had said, “Speaking of being a superhero, I think your goals are a little high for a week.”

She pulled out the goal sheet and handed it to her. “Maybe you should decrease them at least a little.”

Maggie glanced at the sheet and then dismissed Cat’s advice. “They’re fine. I’ve already written three thousand today. And we have tonight’s work. My dad always told me if I wanted something, I needed to aim for the moon. At least I’ll hit the stars. I may not make the goal, but if I don’t set the bar high, I’ll never know what I’m capable of.”

“You’re pretty goal-driven,” Cat said as she took back the sheet and put it in her folder. She had to assume Maggie knew what she could do and not do. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken on finishing your book before.”

“Like I said, life got in the way. My mom passed on a year ago. I spent a lot of time flying from here to Detroit the year before. Before that, it was the kids, and of course, Martin and his career. Being here, this is the first time I’ve had to just breathe and think, in forever. So when you mentioned your retreat, I knew I was pulling that partial novel out and dusting it off.” Maggie chatted as they made their way to the living room. “I can’t just sit, I’ll rust.”

Cat smiled as she found her seat. She grabbed her notebook where she’d made announcement notes. “Okay, happy end of Tuesday. Tomorrow’s lecture is with me. I’ll be holding an Ask-the-Author-Anything session. I’ve got the questions that other groups have asked for reference and the ideas you all brought up on Sunday night. But if you have more, make sure to ask. We can always schedule another meeting. Thursday is open after the Facts About Publishing panel. I’m offering individual one-hour sessions with me between now and Friday. The sign-up sheet will be on the front desk.”

Alicia raised her hand, “Is there an additional charge?”

“No charge. I’ve found that some people want more direction on their pathway or the book they’re writing. These types of discussions work better one-on-one,” Cat glanced at the announcement list. “You have the library available for use until Saturday night and any books you check out, you can leave on the front desk on Sunday. We can take them back to the library after you leave. So don’t worry about that. Any questions?”

“Did they find out what happened to that guy from the party?” Jon Booth asked, glancing sideways at Debra.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” Cat shrugged, trying to distance them from the murder.

“The cop was here yesterday, so I was just wondering,” Jon explained.

Cat laughed and nodded. “Sorry, I should have explained something before. We’re a small town. The cop you saw yesterday, that’s my uncle. He came to have lunch with us. You might see him here several times.”

Jon’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, good. I was concerned about, well, I mean, that’s good.”

Debra blushed a deep red but didn’t say anything.

Cat looked around, “Any other questions?”

Nan looked up from her notebook. “I see Friday we’re taking a trip to the local bookstore. Is that just a visit to shop or will we be doing something? I’d hate to lose two hours of writing time.”

“Like all of our sessions, the bookstore visit is recommended but not required. This is your retreat. However, Tammy Jones, the owner will talk about how books get to the store and the consumer.” Cat read off the description of the session that Tammy had sent at the first of the year. “She also has an amazing selection of craft and marketing books for purchase. I know keeping your luggage weight down is important, so she can ship your impulse buys.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Nan shook her head. “Never mind. I want to hear that discussion.”

“She’s really good about talking about all publishing opportunities. She runs a local writing group too and some of them have self-published their books. So she can talk about how she gets books like mine that are traditionally published and how she does consignment and what that means to a new author.” Cat wrote a note to reach out to Tammy and let her know about the group makeup. “I got suggestions of authors from her for the Thursday panel.”

“Can we talk about agents and how to get one?” Patrick asked. “I have a book done, but I have no idea now what to do.”

“Definitely. And starting tomorrow, we’ll add critique groups to the mix if you want them. I’ve put another sign-up at the front desk. We have a slot for everyone to read a chapter of your book. The first ten pages or somewhere in the middle. I suggest the first chapter to see if it hooks your readers. Then if someone else doesn’t want a slot, I’ll offer the unclaimed slots for a second time. The first one’s tomorrow so I’ll need you to email me the section and I’ll get it out first thing in the afternoon. Do you want paper or digital copies?”

Nan started, “I like reading print. That way I can focus and make notes.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Cat made another note. “Perfect. Then the reader will get the annotated print copies to take home or work on here. And with that, I think it’s time to write. Unless anyone has something to say.”

“Like be nice to me when I read,” Nan grinned at the other guests. “I have a very tender disposition.”

“Whatever, but I do think it’s important to think about what you’re saying and how you’re saying it,” Debra added to Nan’s comment. “We don’t want to be mean. We want constructive criticism. Everyone needs to pinky swear.”

Patrick laughed at the image. “I won’t pinky swear, but I’ll be thoughtful.”

“And that’s all we can ask,” Cat nodded to Maggie. “Are you ready to start?”

“I love this and all of you. I just want to say it again,” Maggie wiped a tear off her cheek. “I needed this energy. And now that I know that Tammy hosts a writers' group, I’ll be there every week. And you all should find one where you live.”

“Yes, Mom,” the group called back.

Cat laughed as Maggie’s cheeks pinked. Apparently, this was a running joke. Cat loved it when the group started coming together as friends.

“You’re all horrible children, so let’s get started,” Maggie set her phone alarm. “Ready, set, write.”

Cat opened her laptop and downloaded her manuscript. Then she read the last paragraph she’d written, trying to get back into Tori’s world.

Then she started writing and her fingers transported her into the book. When Maggie called time, twenty-five minutes later, it took Cat a moment to center herself. She checked her word count and smiled.

Standing, she went over to the whiteboard and unveiled a word count chart. “One more retreat business item. For those of us who work better in a competitive environment, may I present the Word King or Queen competition. Every morning, post your daily word count on this board. The winner will be the writer with the most words as of three pm on Saturday. And he or she will get a prize fit for royalty. Words written from Sunday night’s write-in until tonight can be put in Tuesday’s block. Or you can divide if you keep count that way.”

As the group gathered around the whiteboard, Cat gathered up her things and said goodnight. She wasn’t a night writer, but she liked opening the group if possible. Now she needed some decompression time. And to think about Maggie’s situation.

The woman seemed too nice to be related to the mob.