The Return of Betty Snickerdoodle Read online

  If her mother could just tell that truth – and give the performance of a lifetime – maybe Betty’s loyal readers would give them another chance.

  “You ready?” Angela said into her phone.

  “I’m ready,” Maria replied. “It will be okay, mija. I’ve been practicing – and I’m ready to give it my all.”

  “Okay. I’m going to give the 15 minute warning now. You look great, by the way.” Maria had chosen a perfectly sweet Christmas cardigan, with a lacy, white Peter-Pan-collared blouse peeking daintily out of the neckline. Her hair was teased into a motherly cloud, held back by a bright red band, decorated with sparkles and holiday images.

  “I’m going to give the countdown now,” Angela said. “We’re live in three-two-one ….”

  The camera turned on, and Maria performed flawlessly. She explained that the manuscript that had been released was not the new Betty book. In her sweet, believable, Betty way, she’d explained that a man named Cash had impersonated the son of Betty’s agent – and she’d blindly trusted him. She realized now that he was a “stranger and a criminal trying to capitalize on my success, without knowing a thing about Treacle Town” – because surely, if he had, he would have known better than to release that disgusting material as anything connected to Treacle Town.

  She closed with the most important message of all: a new Treacle Town book really was on the way. “It’s only a day away, I promise. If you sign up on our site, we’ll be sure you’re alerted as soon as you can get it – and everyone who signs up will get the first chapter for free, the moment it’s available. It’s called Treacle Town Christmas, and I’m sure you’ll love it.”

  Maria blew the camera a gentle kiss, then waved good-bye.

  Angela exhaled and smiled as she clicked off the video. Her mom’s performance was all she could have hoped for, she thought. So now we wait.

  She didn’t have to wait long. The buzz began immediately: some fans posted their relief; others remained unconvinced. Would the believers out-shout the angry skeptics? Only time would tell.

  Angela was feeling cautiously optimistic – even Annabelle Crane was weighing in!

  “Thanks, Miss Snickerdoodle, for that explanation,” her post began.

  Angela’s heart was pounding out of her chest.

  “Anyone could be fooled, of course – famous authors are no exception. And we can see why someone might target the author of so many sweet books.”

  Angela started to breathe a little easier.

  “But still, there is a question I think many of your readers must still be asking.”

  Angela breathed deeply. Was it too much to hope for that Annabelle just wanted to know where to buy the new book?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  An hour after Maria’s live video and Bea still couldn’t stop grinning. Angela and her beautiful mom had saved the day with their convincing presentation. She could almost feel the screws tightening on Cash! She hoped he’d been watching, too.

  She opened the drapes and smiled as she looked out her window to the vineyard across the road. It was a crisp, fall day – sunlight danced softly on the red and gold foliage of the grape vines. There was hardly a soul in sight – just a single car winding slowly down her country road, accentuating the seclusion and independence Bea loved. My life is practically perfect, Bea thought – and somehow it’s still getting better.

  Writing a new Treacle Town title after such a long break had been reinvigorating – and now she and Angela would publish it themselves, when they were ready. No annoying middlemen. It was amazing. Bea laughed thinking about how much time she’d wasted avoiding computers. The right tools could change your life. Throw in a few lucky breaks, and you just might get to live your life on your own terms.

  When Betty Snickerdoodle became a household word, Bea thought the happy bubble of her life would burst if people learned her secret. Could Betty’s fans possibly fans accept that the author of the romantic endings and perfectly happy families they adored was actually a brassy, unmarried, wardrobe-challenged ex-poker player? Would fans run away in droves if they found out? Even worse, she’d heard about popular authors whose demanding fans wanted storylines almost made to order. If that happened, the way of life she loved might blow away like a puff of smoke.

  Of course, the same massive success that threatened Bea’s privacy enabled her to buy it back. With her move to the wine country, Bea not only kept Betty under tighter wraps, she ensured the independence she loved. She answered to nobody. There was no one around to tell her to eat her vegetables, or write another 10,000 words, or put on a bra. If anyone needed to see “Betty,” Maria was happy to perform that service. Everything worked out to a “t.”

  Standing at that window, watching that solitary car meander down the road, Bea found herself getting emotional. A little tear of gratitude was even welling in her eye. She wiped it away quickly and laughed at herself. Good thing Angie wasn’t here to see that! The sentimental part of Bea – the part of her where Betty lived – didn’t surface much in real life. But Bea made a mental note that she should do a better job letting people know how much she appreciated them. Angie took care of Betty’s fans – it was up to Bea to make sure Angie felt appreciated. Charlie, too. Where would she be without them? Probably grinding for dollars in some casino with a bunch of malcontents, unsold Christmas manuscripts gathering dust in a tiny apartment closet.

  The ring of the old phone interrupted Bea’s reverie, and she stepped her way through the remaining piles in the front room back to the bedroom to answer it.

  “Bea? It’s Charlie!” Charlie was yelling loudly into the phone. “Can you hear me? I hate these stupid cellular things!”

  “Charlie! I can hear you. And I’m so glad to hear from you! Pat told me you were on a cruise.”

  “I was – my son was with me. I heard you were asking about him – there’s something I think you should know –“

  “Don’t worry, Charlie – I’m pretty sure I’ve got it all figured – “

  A loud, insistent knock on the front door interrupted their conversation. Bea thought about ignoring it – but then the knocking turned to pounding. Bea thought that could mean only one thing. That car rounding the bend down the road carried someone she wasn’t all that surprised – or happy – to see.

  “Charlie, there’s someone at the door. Hold on a minute. I’ll get rid of him.”

  Bea dropped the receiver onto the bedroom floor and hustled back toward the front door.

  “I know it’s you, Cash,” she yelled. “So what the hell do you think you’re after?”

  “Open the damn door, hag! You know what I’m after. I saw the little follow-up to my announcement that you had Maria do this morning. Cute. Now I want that Treacle Town manuscript, hag – the real book this time.” Cash underscored his demand with a loud blow to the door.

  “Fat chance,” Bea snorted.

  Cash responded by renewing his pounding and yelling. When Bea shouted that he should go away, he began throwing his shoulder against the door.

  “I’m not leaving until I get what I want,” he panted, resting a moment after another run at the door.

  “Not happy with the reviews you’re getting, Cash? Maybe next time you’ll be more careful what you steal. You didn’t even read it before you sent it to those reviewers, you peabrain!”

  “Yeah, well who knew an old cow like you could write something so nasty?”

  “It wasn’t meant for publication, dim bulb. Didn’t you notice it said ‘by Betty Snicks’ on the cover page. Or did you think Betty didn’t know how to spell her own name? Besides, we all have different sides to our personalities. I’m sure your mom saw goodness in you for about five minutes after you were born.”

  “Arrggggh” Cash yelled, heaving his body into the door again. “You’re not tricking me again this time, prune! I’m taking what I came for.”

  This BS could go on for hours, Bea thought. But then she had an idea. She heard Cash step back from th
e door, breathing hard, preparing for another running start at it. As Cash rushed forward to hurl himself again, she turned the handle and pulled her hand away – just as Cash slammed his body into the door. Cash burst through the unlatched door and smashed into the opposite wall. He let out a whine as he landed in crumpled heap.

  Bea laughed uncontrollably. “Nice one, fool! Oh my, I think I’m going to pee myself! Can I help you with something? As long as you don’t want a manuscript or help getting up off the floor, there’s a chance I might assist.”

  Cash was rubbing his shoulder and groaning. “I’m not leaving here without your real book, witch.”

  “Well, like I told you before, there’s nothing here for you to take. And just like last time, it’s the truth – not that it’s any of your business. Do you think I’d be stupid enough to keep a real manuscript any place that you could find it? By the way, nice of you to admit you stole my property. You’re lucky I haven’t told the police about you already.”

  Cash was really angry now – and not sure whether he could believe the old biddy. He struggled to push himself up off the floor, then stumbled toward Bea, arms outstretched like a zombie.

  “Remember last time, Haggatha? This time, I won’t be dumb enough to let go of your neck.”

  “You’d better not put your hands on me, Cash!” Bea shrieked.

  Outside the back door, Angela had just arrived – and she was in a full panic. She could hear Bea and a man shouting – and she heard “Cash” and “keep your hands off me.” Mind reeling, she decided in a flash what to do. She squinted and stretched, trying to peer through the back window to see what was going on, but Bea and the man were out of her sight line in Bea’s front room.

  Should she call the police on her cell? They might not get there in time – and if Cash overheard her, he might hurt Bea.

  Where was that gun that Bea got from Perry? Angela was terrified of guns, and didn’t have the foggiest idea how to shoot one. But if she could slip in the back door and find it, she could point it at Cash – and hopefully scare him away without firing a shot.

  It’s got to be in Bea’s bedroom, Angela thought. Bea’s huge chest of drawers was the only logical hiding place in the house. Angela inserted her key gingerly, so gingerly, into the back-door lock. She couldn’t tell how close to her Bea and Cash were, and she didn’t want to catch Cash’s attention. Ever-so-quietly, she turned the knob –

  Bang! Angela heard what sounded like a firecracker. OMG, she thought – I think it was a gunshot! Was Bea okay? She cracked the door open further – and heard loud whimpering.

  “Stop crying, you damn baby!” Bea yelled at Cash. “But you’re welcome to stay down there on the floor. Jeez, that bullet wasn’t even aimed at you!”

  Angela rushed into the room to find Cash on the floor in the fetal position, sobbing, little flecks of white dust all over his hair and jacket. Bea was holding the gun. The source of the white dust was a large hole in the ceiling.

  “I knew he’d be back to try bullying me again as soon as he saw our press conference,” Bea said. “This guy’s as predictable as constipation.”

  Bea opened her garish cardigan sweater – one of her finds from Swooping Falcon – and revealed she was wearing a holster underneath.

  “I guess you were prepared, Bea,” Angela sighed. Naturally, Bea had everything under control.

  “Another good reason to get dressed in the morning!” cracked Bea. “I used my tubular internet friend to buy the holster. By the way, I love technology now. Hold this, will you?” she added, handing Angela the gun.

  “Bea … I … don’t …”

  “Now don’t worry about it, it’s just for a minute. Just keep it pointed at dum-dum there – and don’t pull the trigger. I just need a moment to call the police.” Angela reluctantly took the weapon, jiggling it in the general direction of Cash. The blubbering intruder was still curled up in a ball and barely noticed the exchange.

  Bea pulled the necklace with the emergency alert device out from under her shirt, and pressed the button.

  “Miss Sickles? Everything okay?”

  “Send the cops,” Bea said. “My intruder has returned, and this time I’d like them to take him away.”

  “Give us just a few minutes. Are you safe?”

  “All good. I’ve subdued the doofus. I think this will be what the po-pos call an easy collar.”

  “Roger that, Miss Sickles.”

  Bea put the alert device back under her shirt, and took the gun back from Angela. “Angie, get your phone out – I want you to take a picture.” Cash was still whimpering. Bea placed a fuzzy-slippered foot on his shoulder and raised her arm and the gun victoriously. “Conquered! Did you get it, Angie? Cash, I must say you cry a lot for a big, scawee cwiminal. By the way, Angie, Cash confessed. Too bad you got here a little late – there would have been a witness.”

  “Actually, I think you did have one,” Angela said, tilting her head in the direction of Rebecca. “She doesn’t miss anything. If you could hear it in here, she heard it, too. I’ll check the tablet.”

  As she headed to the small office they shared to find the device, Angela noticed the phone off the hook in Bea’s bedroom.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “It’s Charlie Carter. And you can tell Bea I’m a witness, too. I heard the whole thing. Is that Angela speaking?”

  “Oh, that’s great news, Charlie,” Angela said. “And yes, this is Angela. Bea and I could really use your help with something else. But can I call you back later? I have to explain it to Bea first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was a couple of hours before the cops drove away with Cash (still blubbering, now handcuffed) in their back seat. They’d needed to question Angela and Bea and be sure they had all the evidence they required. The ownership of the gun was a bit of an issue – but a quick call to Perry “confirmed” that he’d left his licensed weapon at Bea’s house for safekeeping. The dents and scuffs on the door, combined with Rebecca’s recording, made it clear that Cash had credibly threatened Bea – and since she’d evidently not aimed at Cash, anyway, the cops decided not to pursue the uncertain provenance of the gun any further.

  “Perry saved you,” Angela said.

  “I have to admit, it’s not the first time,” Bea replied.

  Bea cracked open a can of iced coffee and passed it to Angela. “So, shall we get down to publishing?” Bea said, motioning toward the office.

  “Yeah, about that,” Angela said, settling into her customary editing chair, as Bea sat down at the desk. “We’ve still got a fan revolt on our hands. In fact, it’s worse than before.”

  “Wait, what? Maria’s presentation didn’t do the trick?”

  “Mom was convincing,” Angela said. “But with social media, you don’t always get to be the loudest voice – and you definitely don’t get the last word.”

  Angela described how Annabelle Crane attended the presentation and commented live when it was over – and how exciting it was at first. But then Annabelle launched a new theory about Betty that mushroomed, and now the dumpster fire was a full-on inferno.

  Annabelle surmised that the dark manuscript had all been a big publicity stunt. The impersonator, the theft, and the provocative book could all have been a ruse to drum up attention. Betty had been out of the spotlight for a few years, after all – so wouldn’t this be a great way to get people talking about Treacle Town again? It took only moments for Annabelle to persuade a mob of fans. Emboldened, she renewed her call for the #BOYCOTTBETTY hashtag – and now it was spreading faster than ever.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” Angela said. “But I don’t want to put the real Betty book out there while the fans are so angry. It’ll be dead-on-arrival. It’s probably already killing sales of the previous books.”

  “Why can’t you tell them about Cash? Maybe the cops will give us his mug shot,” Bea cried. “He’s the one who put out the book they hate so much.”

  “I’m n
ot sure that would work. He’s being charged with burgling your house and assaulting you. If we connect that crime to your fake book, everyone will know that you are the real author behind Betty. Even worse, it will confirm that you wrote Sleigh Ride to Hell, too.”

  Angela nearly blurted her own opinion of Sleigh Ride to Hell, but held back. Now was not the moment to tell Bea that if she’d never written her “fun,” opposite-world Treacle Town book, they wouldn’t be in this mess. “I thought maybe Charlie could help – maybe do a press conference explaining that no one else was authorized to publish a Betty book. But, honestly, I’m not sure it would do any good. The fans are just so furious.”

  Bea frowned. She hated the idea of giving up her anonymity – but she hated even more the prospect of that creep Cash ruining a reputation she’d built over two decades. And, she’d recently realized, she had other reasons for hoping Betty could live on. Desperate times, desperate measures.

  “You know what, Angie? Maybe it’s time,” Bea said.

  “Time for what?”

  “Time for … another live presentation. How soon could we do it?”

  “We could it whenever – all I really need is my phone – but what are you thinking, Bea?”

  “Let’s start with getting Charlie involved, like you said.”

  Angela called Charlie Carter, and the three of them worked out a plan. With a quick call, Angela booked a suitable event space. On her way home, she’d call her mom and Aseem to arrange their help; once she got to her apartment, she’d hurry through the remaining logistics.

  “You’re 100% sure you’re ready to do this?” Angela said, firing up the tablet to arrange Bea’s ride for tomorrow.

  “Yes. You know I’m not big on changing my mind once I decide.”

  “I know, I know. But after two decades, this is kind of a big deal.”

  “I’m ready. And who knows? The change might do me good!” Bea chuckled. “Don’t worry so much, honey.”