Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [75]
Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. There was a cocktail reception for conference attendees beginning in an hour, and Jane was expected to make an appearance. Although she felt hot, damp, and now thoroughly confused, she had to go. She forced herself up and into the bathroom to see if she could do anything about her hair.
At a quarter past six she walked into a second-floor ballroom at the conference hotel. It was packed with people—mostly women—talking loudly and taking finger food from trays being carried around by bored-looking waitstaff. Jane noted with some alarm that there was a lot of pink clothing to be seen.
She located the sign-in desk and approached two women whose name tags identified them as organizers. Before she could even say a word one of them shrieked. “Jane Fairfax!” she exclaimed. “I love your book.” She extended a hand as the people around Jane turned to look at her, clearly wondering who she was to command such enthusiastic attention. Jane, blushing, took the proffered hand.
“I’m Sally Higgins-Smythe,” the woman said. “With a y,” she added, underscoring her name tag with one pudgy finger. “I’m the one who invited you to the conference.”
“Then I owe you a great deal of thanks,” said Jane. Sally Higgins-Smythe had a wild look in her eyes, bordering on hysteria, and Jane suspected she had been running for the past twenty-four hours on caffeine and sugar.
“Here’s your badge,” Sally said, pinning on Jane’s chest a name tag in the shape of a large heart. “And here’s your schedule.” She thrust a piece of paper at Jane. “I have to work the table right now, but I can’t wait for your talk.”
“Yes,” said Jane. “I—” She stopped. “My talk?” she asked, registering what Sally had said.
“Didn’t they tell you?” Sally said. “You’re going to be on a panel about what women want from romance novels. It’s you, Penelope Wentz, and Chiara Carrington.”
“Nobody mentioned anything about a panel,” said Jane. “Is it possible for you—”
“You’ll be fine,” Sally interrupted. “All you have to do is say a little bit and then answer questions.”
Jane began to rebut, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to cause trouble at her very first conference. Isn’t it enough that you almost got a reporter killed? she asked herself. You don’t need to add to it by getting a reputation for being difficult. “You’re right,” she told Sally. “It will be fun.”
She left Sally to greet the other arrivals, and made her way to the far corner of the room, where she hoped she could keep out of the way. On her way she lifted a glass of wine from a passing tray and downed most of it before she’d gotten even halfway across the floor. She wished Kelly were there, or Nick. Alone, she felt like the new girl at school. She recognized no one, and everyone was looking at her chest as they tried to figure out who she was.
She found a spot next to a potted palm and tried to blend into the crowd. With a little luck, no one would notice her and she could skip out early. Then she could worry about what she was going to say at her panel. What women want from romance novels, she thought. Honestly.
“Jane?”
Jane looked up to see a tall, lovely woman standing before her. The deep brown of her skin was set off by the gorgeous amber-colored dress she wore. A simple diamond necklace circled her slender throat, and her hair was done up in a tight, shiny knot. Jane racked her brain, trying to identify which movie star she was.
“Chiara Carrington,” the woman said, flashing Jane a stunning smile. “I thought I’d introduce myself before our panel tomorrow.”
“Oh!” said Jane. “I’m so pleased you did. I just now found out that I’m even doing it.”
Chiara laughed. “So did I,” she said. “Sally has a way of forgetting to tell authors little details like that. You’ll get used