Don't Go Home (2015)
“Ingrid Webb poked her head inside. “I brought lunch.”
Annie swung around from her computer, frazzled and stressed. She pulled her mind away from orders and logistics and the challenge of setting up an extravagant book event in little more than forty-eight hours. As soon as Ingrid arrived that morning, she’d turned the store over to her, explaining in staccato bursts that she was under the gun—huge event, Alex Griffith, Wednesday night—and withdrawn to the storeroom to set everything in moti...on. “Lunch?” She blinked. “Oh hey, lunch. That’s wonderful.”
Ingrid stepped inside, used her free elbow to push the door shut behind her. “Making progress?”
“Three hundred books are promised. They’ll arrive on tomorrow’s ferry. I had to pull out all the stops to get them that quickly.”
Ingrid was calm. “Duane can pick them up and schlep them over to the inn.”
Annie looked at her thin, tireless, wonderful clerk, short brown hair frizzed by the summer humidity, brown eyes that observed carefully, a calm, comforting presence whether a hurricane was coming or a visiting author turned out to be truculent as a warthog.MoreLess
Annie swung around from her computer, frazzled and stressed. She pulled her mind away from orders and logistics and the challenge of setting up an extravagant book event in little more than forty-eight hours. As soon as Ingrid arrived that morning, she’d turned the store over to her, explaining in staccato bursts that she was under the gun—huge event, Alex Griffith, Wednesday night—and withdrawn to the storeroom to set everything in moti...on. “Lunch?” She blinked. “Oh hey, lunch. That’s wonderful.”
Ingrid stepped inside, used her free elbow to push the door shut behind her. “Making progress?”
“Three hundred books are promised. They’ll arrive on tomorrow’s ferry. I had to pull out all the stops to get them that quickly.”
Ingrid was calm. “Duane can pick them up and schlep them over to the inn.”
Annie looked at her thin, tireless, wonderful clerk, short brown hair frizzed by the summer humidity, brown eyes that observed carefully, a calm, comforting presence whether a hurricane was coming or a visiting author turned out to be truculent as a warthog.MoreLess
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