"Good evening, Sebastian," she replied, the greeting ready on her lips with a smile that was a few degrees warmer than merely being polite. She hadn\'t missed the fact he carried one of Welsh\'s books in his hands upon his arrival, but wasn\'t sure if he\'d read it yet. It had only been released a few days ago, and Jenna had intended to purchase a signed copy here at the library. She regretted now not having the other books for signing as well, but she\'d thought such a thing to be presumptuous.
"Yes," she agreed with Sebastian\'s observation, but felt she could say no more for he stood up once again and the brief movement at the small cleared area they were all facing towards came a librarian\'s announcement.
"Thank you all for coming today," she began, "to listen to Mr Umberton Welsh speak about his latest offering, A Heated Exchange. There will be time for discussion afterward, and coffee and tea will be served in the King Lear Cafeteria." She gestured to her left, where Jenna knew was a small tea room that mostly served hot beverages with indulgent small cakes or crust-less sandwiches. It was a little too old-fashioned for her, and she much preferred the Mid Summer Night\'s Dream Garden Cafeteria, which was really only a tiny kitchen that operated through a hole in the wall to the outside, where customers sat on iron benches, or at round iron tables with large umbrellas set into them, while enjoying the gardens. It was a place she used to have a coffee and read a book, until she\'d met Kerr which had opened up her social outings a great deal.
An older fellow in his fifties, dressed in jeans and a white button up shirt approached the librarian and thanked her before turning to his audience. Jenna recognised him from the author\'s photo from inside the dust jacket or the back of his paperback books. His voice was deep and clear, and his eyes were very dark and extremely expressive. She thought she understood now why he\'d chosen to give his talk at night in the city library, instead of during the day in a busy bookshop. He was a vampire, as far as she could tell.
He related some interesting tales about the people who\'d inspired him, and where he\'d been staying while he\'d written the book - in an abandoned castle ruin in Scotland (and here she thought of Kerr). He explained why he felt the need to have his characters run around all over the world, and that the heroine in the story had been pursued quite avidly by the Arabian prince, who - Jenna discovered with chagrin as the author hinted at a few plotlines in his book, careful not to give away too much of the story - believed that she would be better off keeping her pursuer at bay because of a friendship she had with another man. If she\'d known this was the plot of Welsh\'s ninth and most recent book, she would never have invited Sebastian here.
She kept quiet during the discussion session, where Welsh\'s enthralled audience asked him about his other books, how many more stories he might have still within him, and (she was sure this came from another vampire gentleman in the audience) if Welsh had ever written under a pseudonym. She considered that idea as well - that Welsh could hardly write throughout the centuries under the same name.
An hour had passed, the talk was getting more detailed and quieter between Welsh and the one or two people who\'d left their seats and approached him, and now there was a small huddle of people waiting their turn to talk with the author, who finally made his apologies and announced that he would be selling and signing books now. This was likely due to the fact his publicist (or whoever the young man carrying two heavy cartons filled with books was) had arrived with many pre-signed copies of \'A Heated Exchange\'.
Jenna stood up from her seat and turned to Sebastian immediately.
"Did you wish to line up? I was going to purchase his book here," she said, indicating the small clutch that had been covered by the pamphlet which she\'d toyed with in her lap throughout the entire talk. "I haven\'t read it yet."
Inwardly she groaned. Obviously she hadn\'t read it yet, if she hadn\'t bought it. Such a thing was implied. Of course she could\'ve read it at the library, but it was a bit of a stretch. She waited just long enough to get his answer, then gestured that she would be lining up now with a quick wave of her hand in the direction she was about to go (and cast another mental groan at herself) before heading that way, trying to muster as much dignity as possible and feeling her dress swishing about her ankles. What was with her clothes lately, that they would either clop at the heel or swish about stupidly? She breathed a huff at herself and the person lined up in front of her must\'ve thought her impatient at being the sixth in line because he took the time to turn around and stare at her before facing the front again - three books tucked under his arm.
She flapped the brochure at her face again, for it felt hot, but she thought it probably had nothing to do with the balminess of the night.
