Chapter 4

But Colby had wanted to do this convention. And had promptly agreed when asked about the photo session.

Jason matched their footfalls together. He was an inch or so taller, not too much, but Colby had long legs. They generally fell into step. They did now.

They found the booth, under powerful swooping lights. They smiled at volunteers and convention staff.

A tall thin bespectacled young man in a volunteer’s shirt held out coffee; he looked exactly like someone trying hard not to get overawed at handing coffee to Academy Award winner and literary-charity philanthropist Colby Kent, and he swallowed nervously while stumbling through, “I hope it’s okay? They said you like coffee? With cinnamon in it? If it’s too much cinnamon I can run out and get you another one? I’m supposed to take care of you? This afternoon?”