Janice Carter - Past, Present And A Future

Then he raised his head and quipped, “At least it doesn’t read “‘Old Friends and Enemies.’”

The smile Clare attempted struggled against her frozen cheek muscles.

“Did Laura mention what time we’re supposed to meet tonight?” he asked.

“Tonight?”

“Dinner. At the new restaurant. Can’t recall the name. Serenity or something.”

The smile tugged harder at the corners of Clare’s mouth. “Ah yes. Serendipity. I…uh…I think reservations are for six.”

He nodded, continuing to check her out. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

She knew what he meant, but played dumb. “What?”

“My coming along. Maybe you’d rather be with them on your own.”

She ignored the hook he was dangling before her. No way was she going to get into that debate in a public place. “I think Laura’s counting on both of us.”

“Well, Laura can’t be let down.”

Clare caught his fleeting grin and broke into a full smile. “True enough.”

Someone jostled him from behind. “See you tonight then,” he said before walking away.

She kept her eyes on him until his broad back disappeared in the bustle of shoppers and store clerks. When she turned to take the next book, she saw a young man with notebook and pen in hand standing patiently in front of her.

“Miss Morgan? I’m Jeff Withers from the Spectator, the town’s newspaper. I wondered if you could spare me some time for an interview.”

“Um, sure. I’m finished here in about fifteen minutes.”

“There’s a diner right across the street. Mitzi’s. Why don’t I buy you lunch? It looks like you might be all coffeed out.”

Clare smiled without any effort this time. “That would be great. I’ll meet you over there.” What she preferred to do was to head back to her hotel for peace and quiet, but she knew interviews were an important part of a book tour. When the signing wrapped up, she slipped on her suit jacket, assured the effusively appreciative manager that the pleasure was all hers and made her way across Main Street.

The reporter was sitting in a booth facing the door and waved at her. He stood up as she sat down, a courtesy that pleased Clare but made her feel about twenty years older.

“The specials are up on the board,” Jeff said, pointing to the wall to her left.

“The food must be good,” Clare said. “The place is packed.”

“Always is on the weekends. They serve a mean brunch.”

A waitress arrived while Clare was skimming the menu so she made a quick decision. “The frittata special please, with salad instead of home fries.”

Jeff ordered the same and as soon as the waitress left, set his notepad and pen on the table. “Would you mind if we talked while we ate? I’ve got a four o’clock deadline.”

“Not at all. When will the interview be in print?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday edition. Look in the Lifestyles section. Now,” he said, flipping open the notepad, “I know that Growing up in Paradise is your second novel.”

“That’s correct. The first, Frankie and Me, was published almost three years ago.”

“Is it normal to have such a gap between books?”

Clare smiled patiently. She’d been asked this question many times. “I don’t know if there’s anything in the world of publishing that could be called normal, but I don’t think the gap is unusual.”

“And this one made the New York Times list so I guess that’s all that matters.”

She wasn’t certain what he meant by the comment. “It’s a wonderful recognition, if that’s what you mean.”

He smiled. “Of course! Now, I understand you were born and raised right here in Twin Falls.”

“I was actually born in Greenwich, but I grew up here.”

He paused while the waiter brought their drinks and then he placed a small tape recorder on the table. “Do you mind? I’m not the best note taker.”

Clare frowned. “All right. I guess there’s not much I can tell you that’ll come back to haunt me.”

He laughed. “Not in Twin Falls. The cover blurb of your book calls it a coming-of-age novel of a young girl growing up in a small town. But I’m curious—is it really based on your personal story?”

Clare tried not to roll her eyes. She’d been asked this question so many times, she had the answer down pat. “My own experiences gave me an informed point of view, of course, and there are some similarities between the heroine, Kenzie, and me, but the story itself is fiction.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Can you summarize the central theme of the book?”

Clare paused while their orders were placed on the table. “I think the title is the clue, right? The notion that small towns may seem like paradise on the surface, but underneath is the same ugliness that can be found in big cities.”

“Kind of like the snake in the Garden of Eden?”

“I guess, but mine isn’t a spiritual message. Simply that good and evil can be found anywhere, even in an idyllic place like…well, like Twin Falls.”

“So is the book based on an actual event in Twin Falls?”

Clare put down her fork. “I don’t believe I said that, did I?”

His smile didn’t seem so charming this time. He cocked his head to one side and as if mulling over her question, switched tactics. “But isn’t that basically what we’ve been playing cat-and-mouse about these last few minutes? And here’s what you say in your acknowledgements.” He pulled a copy of her novel from his backpack and thumbed through the first couple of pages. “You thank a bunch of people, then make a general statement that certain events may appear to resemble—I like that phrase—events that may have occurred elsewhere but any similarities are entirely coincidental.” He raised his head, frowning. “Sounds like something a lawyer wrote, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps because one did, Clare was thinking. Suddenly she was no longer hungry. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to clarify her point. “I—”

He interrupted, “Do you think there’s a possibility someone here in Twin Falls might find something too close to truth in the book?”

Clare set her fork down. “What are you getting at?”

He leaned forward, fixing his eyes on hers. He was no longer making notes, but the tape recorder whirred away. “Here’s my point. The novel centers around the death of a friend of the heroine’s. The death is ruled accidental, but there’s ambiguity about the finding that has a profound effect on the main character. What was her name again? Kenzie?”

Clare nodded. She knew where he was going now.

“And the death eventually results in Kenzie’s leaving forever the town where she grew up. Kind of a Paradise Lost idea. Right?”

Clare checked her watch, wondering when there’d be an opportunity to leave. “That’s part of the story, yes.”

He leaned further across the table. The eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses glimmered. “And isn’t that what happened to you, right here in Twin Falls, seventeen years ago? When your friend was murdered and your boyfriend accused of the crime?”

“As I’ve already told you, what happens in my novel is fiction. And Rina Thomas was a classmate, rather than a friend. I’m sorry but I have to go.” Clare stood up.

Startled, he pulled back from the table. “But your lunch.”

“Let me pay my share.”

He rose from his chair. “No, no. The boss is paying. Listen, could you spare five more minutes? I just want to explore the idea of your novel being based on the Thomas case.”

“If you want to discuss my book, fine. However, if your real purpose in talking to me is to discuss something that happened many years ago in Twin Falls, then I’m sorry, I can’t help you. You’ll have to go to the police for that.” She started to move away.