first letter had been like so many of the others that she had hardly noticed it.
“You really need to hire someone to answer these,” her friend Mica had said when she’d seen the stack TJ had been working her way through on that day six months ago.
“I’ve thought about it, but I’d rather not answer them than have someone else do it for me. I know that sounds crazy.”
“No, I get it.” Mica had opened a couple of the letters and begun to read them. “Aww, these are so sweet. They love you. This one is from a woman who is almost ninety. She wants you to write faster.” Her friend had laughed. “Oh and this one is long.” She’d watched Mica skim it. “Good heavens, do people often tell you their entire life histories?”
TJ had nodded. “They want to share their lives with me because they feel they know me from my books. You can see why I try to answer as many of the fan letters as I can. Unfortunately I can’t answer them all. I just hope they understand.”
After her friend left, TJ had answered as many of the letters as she’d had time for since she had a book deadline looming. She always had a deadline looming.
That part she didn’t mind. She loved writing the stories. It was the other things that ate up her time that she hated. There were always art forms that needed to be filled out describing her story, her characters, suggesting scenes for the cover.
Then there were the many edits and proposals that needed to be written. Add to that the blogs and promotion requests. It was a wonder she ever had time to write the books.
She had been thinking about that when she’d picked up one more fan letter to possibly answer. The first thing she had noticed was that there was no return address on the envelope. She hadn’t thought too much about it since often the readers would put their addresses inside their letters.
Slicing open the envelope, she’d pulled out the folded unlined discolored paper. She remembered holding it up to the light, wondering how old it was to have turned this color. The letter had been typed on what appeared to be a manual typewriter. TJ had an old heavy Royal she’d picked up and kept in her office only as decoration. She’d always been impressed that Ernest Hemingway had written on a manual typewriter, since she doubted she would be writing books if it weren’t for the ease of computers.
Dear Ms. St. Clair
I’ve never written an author before. I guess there is a first time for everything.
I recently checked out your first book from the local library. It was quite pleasurable to read. You clearly have talent. I was surprised when I started reading and couldn’t put it down. I definitely enjoyed your descriptions of Montana and the country around your “fictitious” small town.
I’m actually looking forward to your next book,
Your True Fan so far
TJ had laughed. The reader certainly hadn’t thought he or she was going to like it. It had pleased her that her True Fan had been surprised and willing to try another one of her books. Maybe next time the person would purchase one rather than wait to get it at the library.
She had looked to see if there was a name or an address. Apparently the reader didn’t require an answer. She’d tossed the letter in the trash since long ago she’d given up keeping all the fan mail. She’d thought nothing more of it.
That, she realized now, had been her first mistake. There might have been fingerprints on that first letter before things went south.
“I want to read the letters you got from this so-called fan of yours,” Chloe said once they were back at the house and alone. Their sister had gone to see her fiancé, Dawson Rogers, promising to come back before all the wine was gone. “Something tells me they are much more threatening than what you told Annabelle.”
“I didn’t bring them with me,” TJ said. “I didn’t even save the first few.” But she remembered them and often saw them in her sleep, waking in a cold sweat, her heart pounding.
Dear Ms. St. Clair
I was so disappointed with your last book. To think a tree was killed to make the paper that book was printed on... You should be ashamed.
I expect each book to be better than the last. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. In my last letter, I made some suggestions as far as the plot and character development.
Clearly, you dismissed those suggestions. Maybe you think you know more about writing than I do. Since my opinion doesn’t count, you won’t be surprised to hear that I don’t trust you as a narrator.
I’m your only honest fan. If this is the way you treat a true fan, I hate to think how you treat your other readers.
You have really let me down. We might have to do something about that, don’t you think?
Your only True Fan
She’d thought that would be the last time she’d hear from that reader. She didn’t remember a suggestion for a book that True Fan had claimed to have sent her. Readers often thought she should do books about various secondary characters from her novels. One even suggested getting a woman out of the criminally insane ward of a hospital so she could find her true love. What readers didn’t seem to realize was that those decisions weren’t always up to her—even if she was inclined to do a certain character’s story.
She’d thrown True Fan’s letter away—just as she had the first one—and moved on to a letter by a woman who would love a signed book sent to her sister for her birthday. Her sister loved TJ’s books and was laid up after a car wreck. The sister’s name was Rickey. The reader had said that the sister was a huge fan.
TJ had picked up one of her books and signed it: Rickey, Happy Birthday. Hope you’re well soon, Best, TJ St. Clair.
She put it with the letter in the pile to be mailed, only vaguely remembering that it went to a post office box in Laramie, Wyoming.
After that, she’d gone back to writing her book and forgotten both letters.
That had been her second mistake, though she’d had no way of knowing it at the time. It wasn’t until she received the next letter from True Fan:
Dear TJ St. Clair
You really aren’t as bright or as talented as I first thought. Actually, I’m amazed you make any money at this. A person you don’t know from Adam tells you a hard-luck story and you send them a book? You are so gullible. But “Rickey” thanks you. Tee Hee. I’m feeling so much better and I like having a book that you touched.
Unfortunately, your books are getting worse. I didn’t think that was possible. I told you what to do, but you just keep ignoring me. Because you think you’re so much smarter than me, more talented? You keep making this mistake and we’ll see who is smarter.
Your True Fan until The End
“Believe me,” TJ told her sister now. “I’ve read them numerous times. I can’t tell if they are from a man or a woman. They could
