"Weres?" asked Rebecca Hansen, as the hotel receptionist wondered if she would have to notify the police about this.
"Yeah," replied author Lawrence Cooke, as he barely managed to suppress another yawn. "This is probably before your time, but have you ever heard of an author named Trevor Gold?"
"Gold? Sure. He's something of a local celebrity around here, although the man passed away long before I was even born," admitted Rebecca, recalling the old werepanther's name.
"Well, he wrote the Lamina series back before even I was born too," said Lawrence with a smile.
"I should read it, since our library claims to have a complete set of his novels, but I'm afraid I've never found the time," confessed Rebecca, acting innocent and naive, although she had devoured the books in a reading frenzy years ago. The only problem with that, she recalled, was that the library considered them reference volumes that couldn't be checked out, so she had to spend an entire summer within the library instead of pursuing any outdoor activities to complete that task.
"Really? A complete set?" repeated Lawrence. "I'll have to check that out while I'm in town. All I've ever read was a couple of paperback reprints I found at a garage sale once, and they weren't in the best of shape," he recalled.
"Anyway, Gold wrote the series based on the idea of a planet in another solar system populated with nothing but were-creatures, beings who could go from human to animal form and back again whether they wanted to or not, because their world always experienced a full moon every night because of some odd astronomical phenomenon," explained Lawrence. "My publisher recently negotiated with Gold's estate to issue a new series of reprints, which will start being released next year. Then he got the idea of maybe getting Gold's heirs to authorize new adventures, with the first to be published in time for the upcoming centennial anniversary of the first short story that was published in some pulp magazine back in the 1920s. So since all of Gold's heirs are supposed to live here in Moon Lake..."
"Your publisher sent you here to pitch the potential new series to them," realized Rebecca.
"Yeah, after a couple of long teleconferences in my Seattle hotel room earlier today, since he wants me to serve as at least the initial writer of the new series," confirmed Lawrence. "Anyway, I'm dead tired on my feet right now from that convention I attended there over the weekend, and really need some sleep before I see Gold's heirs."
"When's your appointment? I could leave a note for the day clerk to give you a wake up call," offered Rebecca.
"I appreciate that, but my meeting with them isn't until Wednesday morning. But you can tell me where a good place to eat around here is," suggested Lawrence.
"The Local Diner is just down the street," she replied, pointing in the proper direction.
"Okay. And the name of the place is..."
"The Local Diner."
Lawrence was about to repeat the question, then smiled when he realized what Rebecca was saying. "So the name of Moon Lake's local diner is The Local Diner?"
"Yes."
"Cute," he replied. Just like you. Okay man, get a grip. I seriously need to catch up on my sleep after that wild weekend in Seattle, thought Lawrence, recalling all the partying he did during the convention when not needing to keep his panel and public appearance schedule.
"You're in room 303," said Rebecca, handing him the key. "To your left just as you get off the elevator," she added, before pointing to the device on his right.
"Thank you. See you around, maybe?" asked Lawrence, picking up his bags.
"I have college during the day and only work nights, so..." and then Rebecca just shrugged her shoulders.
"Sorry if you think I was trying to hit on you. It's just that you're the only person I know around here in any way, shape, or form."
"That's okay. You take care now," said Rebecca.
Lawrence Cooke knew a polite dismissal when he heard one, so just said goodbye and headed for the elevator.
After the car disappeared with its passenger, Rebecca picked up her paperback and looked at what he wrote.
"To Rebecca..." and then there was his name, followed by a phone number!
Must be his cell, she figured. Pretty cheeky for a normal.
Then, realizing she still had a few more hours before her shift ended, Rebecca Hansen sat back down behind the hotel's reception counter and resumed reading.
TO BE CONTINUED...
At this point folks, the rest is up to you. I'm just going to sit back and see what happens next, especially in light of recent developments in Moon Lake, Tad concerning the town deciding to adopt a plan to INTENTIONALLY reveal the existence of weres (but not of Moon Lake as a were sanctuary) to the world before the secret is exposed by someone else.
And for those thinking this might have been better as a part of one of our other Moon Lake stories, well, I realized there was too much going on in them as it was, hence this spin off.
Have fun contributing!—tmw.