"What?!"
"Not long! A month or two. I'm not a machine," she reminded Quinn, "and I do have to think up an idea before you can sell it."
The other woman sighed. "I know. I just want to make sure we take every opportunity, that's all. People love your books, they really strike a chord."
Poppy smiled. "Thank you, that's sweet of you to say."
"That's my job."
"So you flatter every client?" Poppy laughed.
"Yes, but with you I really mean it." Quinn winked, then pushed her sunglasses up her nose. "Now, let's go sell you some books!"
The literary festival had taken over Provincetown. The pier was full of booths and snack vendors, the main cobbled street was decked out with ticker tape and flags, and the sedate town hall had been transformed, with talks and panels bursting out of every room, and brightly-colored author signing tents lined up in the cooling shadow of the old Colonial building. It was a gorgeous day, and the crowds were out in force, enjoying saltwater taffy and clutching paperbacks as they went in search of their favorite authors.
Poppy loved the sight of readers in the morning.
"Now, let's see, you have 'writing the romantic hero' at eleven, then a group signing, then another panel at two . . ." Quinn consulted the schedule of events as Poppy signed in at the main stage. "And don't forget the dinner tonight. All the big publishers will be there, and you're a guest of honor."
"I am?" Poppy beamed, taking her badge. She still got a kick out of seeing her name, printed there on the schedule alongside authors she'd loved for years.
"Of course you are. Do you need a plus-one for the green room?" Quinn asked, turning. "You need a special wristband to get in."
Poppy paused. She hadn't heard from Cooper yet. "Let me check," she said, and typed out a quick text.
Do you think you'll make it today? Would love to see you.
The little ellipses appeared on screen for a moment, showing he'd seen her message and was typing a response. Then it stopped. No reply.
Poppy bit back her disappointment.
"I'll take one, just in case," she said, turning back to Quinn. "My aunt is around here somewhere, she said she was hunting down James Patterson. I don't know if that was a promise or a threat."
Quinn smirked. "It's OK, he travels with security now. Oh, Fiona! Over here!" she waved over a bright-eyed girl who couldn't have been more than twenty, laden down under a massive bag of books. "This is Fiona, from your publisher. She's been running your social media campaigns."
"It's great to meet you!" Poppy pushed her emotions aside and shook the girl's hand. "Thanks so much for all your hard work."
"It's my pleasure." Fiona beamed from under her blunt-cut bangs. "I love your writing. We all can't wait for the last book in the series."
"It's got 'bestseller' written all over it," Quinn agreed. "At least, it will once we talk about your promotion budget."
Poppy gave her a look. "Let's not talk about that today. Was your flight down OK, Fiona?"
The girl grimaced. "A little bumpy."
"Oh, me too! I hate to fly." Poppy carefully steered her on before Quinn could corner her to demand a national book tour and full court press.
Her first panel was a fun discussion about how to write compelling heroes, with a group signing after. It was always a little nerve-wracking being in front of an audience, but she got to chat back and forth with the other authors, and pass the microphone along when she didn't know quite what to say. There was always safety in numbers, but when Poppy arrived after lunch at her second event, she found a stage with just two chairs, and a sign proclaiming Poppy Somerville in Conversation."
"Wait, it's just me?" Poppy's nerves rose. "I thought there was a whole group."
"Sorry, didn't they tell you." Fiona frowned and scrambled to find the paper. "A couple of the authors had to drop out at the last minute, so they shifted things around."
"This is excellent." Quinn surveyed the room, which was filling fast. "You're the star attraction. Just look at all these customers."
"Readers," Poppy corrected her automatically. She looked around, her stomach churning. It was one thing to talk about her work as part of a group, but alone on stage? She felt a flicker of nerves, but Quinn gave her arm a squeeze.
"You've had crowds like this before at signings. You'll be fine," she said with a surprisingly supportive smile.