I rummaged through the basement at the writing cabin until I found my soapbox. I texted Lisa* as I climbed upstairs, “Almost ready?”
“I’m all set. Iris** is on the easel so she can flip my cards. I’ll be down in a moment.”
I placed the soapbox in the main lobby, just right of the easel.
Iris walked toward me along the top rail of her easel. “Do you think this is going work?”
“Giveaways always work in varying degrees. Lisa’s first one went absolutely crazy. Maybe it’ll jar some sales for your book, The Cock of the South.” I walked behind Lisa’s desk and tested the spotlight. Everything was ready, so I dimmed the overhead lights.
Lisa entered, wrapped in a bathrobe. She sat in one of the other chairs and put on her white stilettos. She dropped off her robe and stepped onto the soapbox. She wore a…
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