Chapter 18

Champagne Brunch on a Beer Budget

" I feel fine, really," Elaine insisted on Sunday morning as we sat around a table with a pristine, white linen cloth sipping mimosas with our eggs, bacon, and waffles. The fruit was fresh and fragrant, the seasoned eggs fluffy, and the bacon crisp. A silver tray of flavored syrups sat in the center of the table beside the salt, pepper, and a dish of butter squares.

"In my haste to see who has been harassing our dear Aspen, I forgot to bring my purse with my inhaler. Between the excitement and the smoke, my airways spasmed and closed up," she explained casually, suggesting it was a common occurrence. She slathered her Belgian waffle in blueberry syrup. "Thanks to Aspen and Winter, I'm just fine. I didn't even get minor burns like they did."

Winter and I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my room the night before. I remember a feeling of deep contentment beneath the dread and exhaustion that had weighed me down. I liked having her near me, touching her, and being touched by her. When I woke around three o'clock, she was gone. I pulled off my shoes and black slacks, with their smolder holes and melted patches, and crawled into bed, hoping she was all right. With thoughts of Winter rising above the specter of SapphicLover69, I drifted back to sleep until nine.

I can't say how long I stood in the fabulous spa shower soaping myself to rid my hair and body of the smoke smell, but I didn't have the water on full hot this time. The skin on my face, shoulders, arms, and hands was tender where it had been exposed to the heat. Afterward, I rubbed sunburn lotion all over.

The medics had done a good job, as only a few blisters remained visible on my hands. I held them out and studied them; the barest signs of age showed in fine lines across their backs. A few brown spots larger than freckles resulted from time spent in the sun. The manicure Alice had done for me looked surprisingly good, considering—although the paint on one acrylic nail was scratched and a thumb bore a little chip. I supposed I should fix it, but I didn't know how to apply the polish. What if I streaked it up and made it look worse? What if it didn't match the other nails?

I flexed my hands as I sat in front of the mirror, noting how foreign the press on ornaments felt. They looked nice. They were glamorous, like Aspen Wolfe, but they weren't me. One more day, I reminded myself, then you can retreat to your boring life and try to craft your next best-seller … maybe about a hottie who falls for a nerd. My bold protagonist will whisk her off to bed, or maybe take her on a lab table with beakers and test tubes crashing to the floor as their passion drives them. My heroine will be far braver than I am.

Only one more day and then no more Winter. That prospect loomed bleaker than any January blizzard.

"That's what the stupid stalker doesn't understand," Winter said as she stuck her fork into a juicy red strawberry. "She mistakenly thought Aspen would be trapped alone in the fire and die. She didn't count on her having friends who'd never allow her to face an uncertain future by herself. Although I suspect Aspen would have found a way out, even if we weren't there, having the three of us contribute pieces of the solution ensured the villain's scheme would be foiled."

"Truer words were never spoken," I declared, "nor truer friends ever had. I find myself in all your debts."

"Nonsense!" Elaine flapped her napkin before wiping sticky amber drops from her fingers. "Hanging out with you makes our lives interesting."

I had to laugh at the irony.

"These eggs are so good," Tammy commented. "Babe, I wonder if we could get their recipe?"

Beth aimed a disgruntled look at her. "I've made them like this before. You just splash some Tony's Creole Seasoning in them and a little cheese."

"Well, do that then. I mean, there's nothing wrong with your eggs," Tammy backpedaled. "Everything you cook is marvelous."

"Uh huh." Beth peered at her skeptically.

"I always eat it, don't I?" Tammy said in defense. "I love your cooking! And adding some spice here and there couldn't hurt," she continued, then smacked a kiss to Beth's cheek.

A warm feeling wrapped me in its embrace like a quilt my grandma had sewn, each square a memory with a meaning behind it. I wanted what they had, and I hadn't found it yet. Maybe I wasn't ready before, but I had matured a lot, wrestled with life and my place in it. Even before I'd come here, I had yearned for more. I wrote about passion, romance, and love, and I'd had a few shots at it in the past. I just hadn't found my happy ending yet, and I craved it with all my being. If I didn't step up and take a chance—even though it meant I could crash and burn again—then I'd never realize it.

"I see that sappy look you're giving us," Tammy accused, jabbing her fork in my direction. "Every bit deserved, too," she added with a shining grin.

I felt heat rise in my cheeks, though from embarrassment at getting caught or because of the light burn I couldn't be certain.

"Yeah, well, you two are simply adorable," I replied. "What can I say?"

Speaking of adorable, I noticed how Winter cut her food into tiny bites, all arranged on her plate, so no morsel touched another food group. I mean, weren't most geniuses a little OCD? I was paying so much attention to her, I wasn't even aware Selina Fowlerton had glided up behind me.

"Here you are," she cooed in a seductive tone, dripping with fake admiration.

When I glanced over my shoulder, I got an eyeful of Selina Fowlerton's breasts, as succulent as freshly picked ruby-red grapefruits from a Florida grove. Despite the light droplets of sweat beading on the cleavage put on display by her low-cut dress and the enticing aroma of her perfume, I wasn't moved with desire. I was actually a little annoyed at her interruption.

"Oh, good morning, Selina." As I smiled warmly at her, I couldn't help but notice the cunning glimmer in her eyes. When her hand landed on my shoulder, it lacked the warmth I'd grown accustomed to from Winter.

She batted lush lashes at me in a flattering way, putting me on guard. "I admit your Quick was a clever idea and has enough spice in the mix to satisfy your following, even if it doesn't live up to ‘Chapter Ten'." She licked her lips most deliciously. "That Laurel Award is mine. Next time, stay in your own lane and leave suspense to me."

Raising a brow, she smirked, straightened, turned, and sashayed away, exuding potent sexuality as she swished her perfect butt hugged by a formfitting red dress. On Thursday, I might have swooned after such an intimate display of competitive form; this morning I found it desperate and amusing.

"Wow, Aspen, she's scared of you," Tammy proclaimed with her mouth full of breakfast.

Winter turned a timid gaze to me, which I met with affectionate assurance on my face. "No worries," I told her. Again, suspicion crept up my spine. Is it Selina? Just how scared and desperate is she?

"When did Selina's book, The Serpent's Seduction, release?"

Beth, the human encyclopedia of all things sapphic fiction, answered, "Last November—early November, but I don't recall the exact day. It's a good romantic suspense, and, given she publishes with FemLit Inc., she's slightly favored to win in the unofficial betting pool. But it isn't better than Quick. It boils down to the judges' opinions. The first round of voting separated the good books from the excellent ones. The second round used a trio of new judges who read all the finalists in their category, using scoring rubrics and their expertise to arrive at first, second, and third-place winners. Selina has already won three trophies for Romantic Suspense and six for Mystery/Thriller, which could either work for or against her. The judges might see her name and assume it will be fabulous before they get to the first line. On the other hand, they could think, ‘She's won a bunch of these; let's give someone else a chance.' You aren't letting what she said get you rattled, are you?"

"No." That's about the time SapphicLover69 started sending me private messages. It could be pure coincidence, but … I shook my head. A trophy and a one-thousand-dollar prize simply weren't enough to warrant attempted murder.

"I read Quick, " Winter said, "in real-time. I just couldn't put it down. But even if one of the other finalists wins that category, your Shady Seductions is up for two awards, and it's—wow, I mean—just wow!" Her cheeks flushed the most precious shade of pink.

"Thanks. I'm not worried," and, for the first time in ages, I meant it. Either I would win an award, or I wouldn't; it was out of my control. I wrote four novels last year, and two were Literary Laurels Finalists. Few authors could claim such fame. Although, I could use the money. "I already won the jackpot," I added, passing my gaze around the table.

A middle-aged woman standing in front of the buffet tapped a microphone, drawing our attention. "Good morning," she chirped merrily. "Good morning, Literary Laurels Conference participants. Have you been enjoying the weekend here in the Big Easy?"

The room applauded and more than a few called out verbal responses. The announcer grinned and nodded. "Great. This afternoon we have another author reading, a class on how to build your author newsletter, The Heat Behind Ice Queens, and an important panel on the Ethics and Economics of using AI. Then, the moment you've all been waiting for, at seven tonight begins our banquette and awards ceremony."

More applause erupted. Winter brushed my arm and beamed at me. I wondered if her brightness would dim if I won nothing. Even her casual touch filled me with delight, and my thoughts returned to imagining kissing her mouth, holding her close again, removing her clothes … should I do it in a slow, tantalizing rhythm or rip them off in a fevered rush?

"But now, you all have an equal chance to win cash and prizes in our raffles for the event." I had seen this woman around all weekend, but I never caught her name. At the moment, it was difficult enough to focus on what she was saying.

"For the first draw, a lucky author will win Vellum Self-Publishing software for your Apple computer—no renewal or reactivation fees ever. Does everyone have your tickets ready?"

I hadn't bought one because I didn't own an Apple and already had Atticus on my laptop. A woman squealed when her number was called and dashed around tables and chairs to the front to receive an envelope containing her prize. Her enthusiasm reminded me of contestants on The Price Is Right .

She announced winners for Atticus, a year's platinum subscription to Book Brush, and the services of a professional website developer. Then she called out winners for other prizes, such as conference T-shirts, tote bags, and tickets for next year's event. Not all recipients bounded around like Tigger with a spring in their tails, but even the more reserved ones seemed quite happy to win something.

"And now for the grand prize," she announced. All chatter and clanking of silverware ceased as a hush settled over the room. "The fifty-fifty drawing. Each year, we collect your dollars to support the continuing work of the Literary Laurels Society. We do more than just hold an annual conference and give out trophies."

While she enumerated the many ways the society supports sapphic authors and promotes awareness of the genre, I sneaked a peak at Winter. Although her attention was fixed on the unfolding scene as she leaned an elbow on the table, her chin cradled in her hand, her eyelids drooped. I wondered if she had gotten a good sleep, why she'd left me for her room, and what she would want to do today. She should remain as far away from me as possible to stay out of the line of fire.

"And, now, the winner of the fifty-fifty is …" She pulled a ticket from the bowl and read the number.

"That's mine!" Elaine cried out enthusiastically. "I won!"

"Come on up. I've got an envelope of cash for you," the announcer said with a broad grin. "Congratulations."

We clapped and cheered; Tammy drummed on the table and whistled. The Universe knew what it was doing to award her something for her trouble after almost being killed helping defend me.

"That's all, folks. Enjoy the brunch, the amenities, and the remainder of the activities. I'll see you in the banquette hall at seven o'clock." The announcer turned off the microphone and wandered the room greeting people. Elaine strutted back to our table with her brightest grin yet.

"We're so happy for you!" Winter exclaimed.

Tammy stood to pull out her chair and help reseat her in it. "Congratulations. Absolutely amazing."

"Thanks, you guys," Elaine responded with a blushing glow.

"Now you can buy an even bigger purse," I teased, prompting a tinkling laugh from Winter.

"Enough of all this fuss," Elaine dismissed, glancing down as she secured the envelope in her giant handbag. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Keeping Aspen safe," Beth declared.

"Keeping all of you safe," Tammy corrected. "Let's look at this schedule."

It was unreadable at the folds and tattered beyond recognition when she spread it on the white tablecloth. "Q.L. is doing her reading this afternoon with the one o'clock group, along with Jules Novik, and three others," Beth read. "R.B. Taylor is on the ice queens panel, and Selina Fowlerton is on the AI panel. So, what does everyone want to do?"

"I want to support Q.L. and be present for her reading," I said, thinking, and get an idea about that other sci-fi writer. "Then how about taking a dip in the pool? I'll bet it would feel amazing."

Instantly, I wondered if I'd made the wrong suggestion. Could Beth or Elaine even go swimming?

"The pool sounds fun," Winter seconded. "I hardly ever get to go swimming in Wisconsin."

"Swimming is the one exercise I can do," Beth added, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Tammy and I were hoping to get a dip in. What about you, Elaine?"

"I enjoy swimming," she answered. "I used to be self-conscious about wearing a bathing suit, but I'm so over it now. Who cares what I look like, as long as I'm having fun?"

Relief washed through me to know I hadn't created an awkward situation.

"So," Tammy concluded and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "We hang out until the reading at one, then change and meet at the pool around two-thirty, stay until we're ready to go inside, then get ready for the banquette. Aspen, do you mind missing R.B.'s panel? I'm guessing you can skip Selina's since she's put a bullseye on you."

"That's the last panel, opposite AI, which I'm just sticking my head in the sand about," I reasoned. "If we're getting hot, we can come back inside to hear her, and, if we're having a wonderful time, we can stay. Does that work for everyone?"

"It works for me!" Winter confirmed with enthusiasm. I wanted to kiss her.