To the rhythm of “I DO believe in spooks” say it three times fast: I LOVE Atlanta-Hartsfield airport, I LOVE Atlanta-Hartsfield airport, I LOVE Atlanta Hartsfield airport. I’m trying to convince myself. And I DO, I DO, I DO, but sheeesh at the flight delays in
Carol is on point in the store while Rosemary, Diana and I scoot to dinner at a good restaurant in the same shopping center as Quail Ridge. It’s so good to see them again! And it’s so good to talk books. Books, books, books. I’m sold on several before I even hold them in my hands.
At Happy Bookseller in Columbia, I found a stack of Deborah Wiles' books next to a shelf of Chekhov (one of Eudora Welty's favorites). At Quail Ridge, I cozy up to Poet Laureate Charles Simic. I like that, too!
It’s a night of reunions before we even begin the signing -- what a joyful time! We're bringing down the house in the children's section! From left to right, Sue Harris, librarian friend whom I have not seen in two years, Molly Davis, whose school I visited three years ago (she brought her new husband with her, too), Sandra Wagner, librarian at Salem Elementary School, Candy Dahl --author of EMMA AND THE CIVIL WARRIOR -- moi, and Stephanie Greene, author of QUEEN SOPHIE HARTLEY and the wonderful OWEN FOOTE series, among others (and a brand-new book from Greenwillow, CHRISTMAS AT STONY CREEK). Stephanie, Candy and I are all alums of Vermont College's MFA program (more on Vermont College when I get to the left coast!)
What I love about independent booksellers is how they serve. In EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS, the Snowberger family owns the town funeral home. "We live to serve" is their motto. I see the same spirit in independent bookstores. For instance, Quail Ridge sponsors "The View From Tuesday." Teachers come to the bookstore to hear speakers on various topics (I was that speaker, with Stephanie Greene, two years ago) and receive continuing education credits for their experience. "We can get it for you," and "If you liked that one, you'll love this!" and "How can we help you with your school/library book needs?" It's a constant dance, I know. At Quail Ridge, I feel like a partner.
I've settled on reading the first two chapters of THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS, along with a newspaper clipping from Phoebe Tolbert. This takes me about 15 minutes. I begin: "Mr. Norwood Rhinehart Beauregard Boyd, age 88, philanthropist, philosopher, and maker of mystery, died on a June morning in Mable, Mississippi at home in his bed." There's that southern storyteller, ready to spin you a yarn. I look up. A gaggle of ten-year-olds sits right up front smiling at me -- "here she goes again, talkin' about death." Ha. Now they can tell me, too, "but it's really about life!" Yes, it is. I love meeting these young readers afterward, as they hand me their dog-eared copies of LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER or LITTLE BIRD, as they thumb through ALL-STARS and scour the map in front, “just like the other books!” Yes.
When it's over, Carol, Rosemary, and I pose for a job-well-done photo. Rosemary sells me LITTLE CHAPEL ON THE RIVER: A PUB, A TOWN, AND THE SEARCH FOR WHAT MATTERS MOST by Gwendolyn Bounds, a book I wanted and knew she loved because I keep up with her picks on the Quail Ridge website. She also makes sure I put PLUM WINE by local novelist Angela Davis-Gardner in my pile. Yes! Local talent highly recommended.
Carol and I sing down the evening at a local coffee shop over key lime pie and banana cheesecake. I send my love to Trish, who couldn't be with us tonight; Trish was part of the inspiration for Finesse in ALL-STARS. Back at my hotel, I call Sweetheart Jim so I can hear his voice. I fall into bed and know nothing until 5am, when I have to remind myself of where I am.
There’s lots to see in the beautiful Raleigh/Durham area; I won’t see anything but the strip malls and interstates. So much of the book tour is in-and-out travel. Lots of cabs, drivers, airports, seat 12A, gate B15, “will I make my connection?”, “where’s the coffee shop?” and “can you put me on the shuttle at 7am?” (I know, I know, Kia, take a cab. But you know what? I hopped in a cab at the
I did manage to pack everything into carry-ons. I wish to report that I removed my white shoes from my luggage – it’s after Labor Day – and I have finally begun to recover from the ferocious fire ant bites on my feet, a present from walking through Uncle Jim’s garden in
Time to fly to
Well… you’ll come. Good.