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Mrs. Pratt required. “Ms. Dupree turned to Ms. York and said, ‘I am going to show the world what a charlatan you are. And when I’m done, no one will ever buy a novel bearing the name Rosamund York again.’”
    â€œHow did Ms. York respond?” Betty asked breathlessly.
    â€œShe laughed. Quite derisively, I might add. It made Georgia Dupree furious,” Mrs. Pratt said. “At that moment, we reached Ms. York’s floor. The doors opened. And before Ms. Dupree disembarked, she got very close to Ms. York and, in a voice that sounded like an angry hiss, said, ‘So help me, I will take my
rightful
place at the top—even if I have to kill you to do it.’ And then, she got out and the doors closed.”
    Mrs. Pratt blinked, as though coming out of a daze.
    Anna whistled softly. “Both of those writers are coming to Storyton for Romancing the Reader. They’ll be under one roof for an entire week.”
    â€œIt sounds like things could turn ugly. I hope you placed those two on separate floors,” Phoebe said as Eloise gave Jane’s arm a comforting squeeze.
    â€œI gave Rosamund York the best room in the resort.” Jane groaned unhappily. She put her face in her hands and mumbled, “The last thing I need is to stumble upon the dead body of a bestselling author in the Romance and Roses Suite.”
    Mrs. Pratt rubbed her hands together in undisguised glee. “This promises to be an exciting seven days. Oh, whoever thinks life in Storyton is uneventful has never attended one of your theme weeks,Jane!”

THREE
    The snow began falling soon after the Cover Girls left.
    When Jane woke the next morning to the sound of the boys squabbling over which cartoon to watch, the world outside her window was covered with a veil of shimmering white. The pristine snow, lit by the waking sunbeams, winked like polished glass, and since Storyton’s guests had yet to venture outside, the lawns and curving paths were undisturbed. All was hushed, save for a few birds flitting among the tree branches. Jane took a long moment to savor the stillness and then went downstairs to restore peace between her sons.
    Afterward, she made breakfast and then lounged around in her pajamas, drinking coffee and reading. Just before noon, she called Eloise and told her to wish Edwin luck with his official grand opening.
    â€œTell him yourself. He’s pacing the floor like a caged panther. He looks like one too. His hair’s wild and his eyes are dark and ferocious. Don’t glare at me, Edwin. It’s true.”
    There was a scuffling noise on the other end and then Edwin came on the line. “Hello, Jane.”
    The way he spoke her name gave Jane a little thrill. “Ijust wanted to say break a leg or whatever is said to convey best wishes in the restaurant industry.”
    â€œI’m grateful for the support,” he replied and then paused. “It’s good to hear your voice . . . You have the ability to calm people, Jane.”
    There it was again. The sound of her name was like a breath of summer wind. Her cheeks growing warm, Jane smiled into the phone. “The café is already a success. I plan on being a regular.”
    â€œI hope so,” Edwin said. “We didn’t get the chance to talk much yesterday. I’d like to make that up to you by cooking you a meal after hours one night.”
    Jane’s heart tripped. “That would be lovely.”
    Jane replayed her brief conversation with Edwin many times that day. Fitz and Hem, who caught her staring into space on several occasions, exchanged befuddled glances. Deciding their mother was coming down with something, the boys kept their distance. After a supper of beef stew and cornbread followed by several rounds of Chutes and Ladders—all of which Jane lost—Jane told the twins to get ready for bed and popped her beloved
Pride and Prejudice
DVD out of its case. Catching sight