"Caroline," Julia said slowly, "let's face it. Ro-Ro is me with better jewelry." She'd said it to be funny, but the truth hit Julia hard. When Caroline didn't laugh, Julia focused on the problem at hand. "How much would bring your payment down to a manageable level?"
Caroline didn't offer her a figure. Instead, she asked, "Have you heard from Lance?"
"Lance and I aren't pen pals, Caroline. We've gone back to our own lives like we were supposed to. Besides," Julia added, "I'm leaving for Europe in three weeks. You know how hectic book tours are, and ..." She broke off.
"Oh, Julia."
"Caroline, it's okay. I'm going to be so busy, you wouldn't believe it. I've got to do press, and Abby wants to put out a new book really quickly, so I've got to do that. I've got to, work. This is what I do, remember?"
"Yes," Caroline admitted. "It's what you do."
Julia looked down at the half-eaten pizza slice that rested on the molded plastic seat beside her in the airport waiting area. "I guess you found lunch without me," Abby was saying, her voice clear through Julia's cellular phone.
"Oh, don't worry about me, Abby. I won't starve," Julia said before taking a sip of her full-calorie Coke.
Damn Lance Collins. He had left an entire case of the stuff, and Julia couldn't bear to throw it out. Now she was addicted. Between that and the whole milk she'd been drinking, she was glad to be going on tour. She needed to drop a few pounds, and more than a couple of Lance's bad habits, to distance herself from all the parts of Lance that remained long after he was gone.
Abby carried on. "Well, I'm heartbroken I couldn't see you while you were in town, but you know how it is."
Julia looked at the notebook peeking out of her bag and reassured her editor. "That's fine, Abby. I'll see you on my way back through. Maybe I'll have a draft ready for you by then."
"Jules," Abby protested, "I know you're good, but you're
not Wonder Woman. No one can finish a book and travel and do press at the same time. Just enjoy the trip. And sell lots of books!"
'I will. Thanks, Abby."
"Oh, hey, while I've got you on the line, I should fill you in on some sad news." A tremor of dread rippled down Julia's spine. "Turns out our friend Richard Stone hasn't paid income taxes in seven years."
Julia felt like the jets that were taking off outside. "Really?"
"Really. He's left town completely. I think we've heard the last of Richard Stone."
"Oh, Abby." Julia gathered herself. "That's great. I don't know how to thank you."
"I told you," Abby joked. "Sell lots of books!"
"Okay." Julia laughed. "I'll get right on that."
She hung up the phone, checked the board behind the airline counter, and saw that her layover had been extended by two hours. Great, Julia thought. I'm behind before I even get started.
She reached for her notebook, knowing that she needed to write, especially if she wanted to truly impress Abby and have an early draft when she came back through New York. But Julia didn't feel like writing. For the first time in her career, she had writer's block. She'd told herself that once she started traveling, the inspiration would flow, but so far all she'd felt had been jet lag and turbulence. Inspiration was like lost luggage, and she traveled on, hoping it would turn up somewhere along the way.
She fumbled in her purse for a pen, but found her deck of cards instead, and couldn't resist laying out a hand of solitaire. The cards fell beautifully into place, so she Hew through them, her hands moving without the benefit of her mind, her entire existence on cruise control. Then, as soon as the easy moves < disappeared, she heard the words that had been echoing in her head for weeks: Keep on playing solitaire. . . . Keep on laying out those cards, and then ask yourself when you're Ro-Ro's age if it would have been so awful to put that painting someplace.
She shook her head, looked away from the cards, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she caught sight of Lance Collins.
Chapter Twenty Seven
WAY #96: Let go of your baggage.
Life is going to be very long and difficult if you insisting items that are better left behind. No matter if it is a nasty breakup or bad job interview, or anything in between, don't let those things drag you down.
—from 101 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire
Julia thought for a second that her mind was playing tricks on her. But no, there they were. In the lower-right-hand corner of the magazine, staring her in the face, were large, bold letters that read: LANCE COLLINS—NOT JUST A PASSING FAD!
"Ma'am," Julia said as she moved and sat next to the older woman across the aisle.