“Duke does, and he’s here and avoiding me, so that’s a possibility.” I squeezed her hand again. “Chickie, spill.”
She stared at me.
Then she licked her lips and said softly, “You probably know, since I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was write.”
When she stopped speaking, I nodded encouragingly and kept hold of her hand.
“Romances,” she went on.
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ve written a lot of books, Ally,” she told me.
“I know, honey,” I replied.
“All romances,” she stated.
“Okay.”
“Well, mostly romances, some mysteries.”
“Right,” I said with waning patience, while struggling with not showing my patience was waning.
Her eyes drifted beyond me and she whispered, “And those romances are the best kind ever.”
I knew what she was seeing in her mind’s eye and I knew she wasn’t wrong about that.
She looked back at me. “Real,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“But they’re more. They’re about love of all kinds. They’re about family. Family of all kinds.”
She wasn’t wrong about that, either.
I felt a tickle in my throat and repeated, “Yeah.”
“It’s extraordinary. So I had to share it, Ally.” This time her hand squeezed mine and she leaned toward me. “I had to.”
“I feel you,” I whispered.
“But, I did it and the first one is out there and it felt good to do it. To finish one. Then the other. And the next. And let it out there. But putting it out there, something happened.”
“What happened, babe?” I asked.
“People… readers… they say it makes them laugh.” She paused. “Out loud.”
I still hadn’t read it, but we were a pretty wild bunch. I could see that.
I nodded.
“It’s a gift,” she said, her voice funny, deep with emotion. “Watching you all get close, witnessing all that happened making you closer, feeling that love. But it was another gift, maybe even a bigger one, precious, knowing that sharing it makes people I don’t know laugh. It makes them happy. Some of them write to me. They tell me bad things are happening in their lives. But they read my book and it takes them away. It makes them smile. Laugh. Even if for moments, or better yet hours, they can forget the bad, be with us here at Fortnum’s, and laugh.” She tipped her head to the side. “That’s beautiful. So how can it be wrong?”
“It isn’t wrong,” I told her.
“Lee’s angry,” she replied.
He was.