The Kindness of Strangers, Part II...

By Cornelia, again

So… let me tell you, to paraphrase Ratty in The Wind in the Willows, “There is nothing --absolutely nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about with a bunch of cool people in great bookstores, while on tour with Lee Child.” Seriously. The man is damn funny, and damn kind, and I think we got a pretty decent schtick going, which was a huge relief to me as you can no doubt imagine.

Plus, I did not actually throw up ON him… huge relief numero deux.

Lee is blogging about touring, and very graciously said that in Scottsdale, at the Poisoned Pen, “contrary to prior pleadings [Cornelia] was poised, charming, witty and completely stole the show. She didn't throw up even once.”

(If you look at the posting about Houston on the following day, however, you might notice that he does NOT say I didn’t throw up… more on that to follow).

It was an SRO crowd, and I got to meet up with a bunch of buddies I’d heretofore only been acquainted with online, including the “Ginsu-Tongued” M.G. Tarquini and her magnificent twins, and the witty and erudite Angie. Unfortunately, a great lady named Joan had to leave before we could meet in person, for her daughter's dance recital.

The staff at Poisoned Pen was composed of astonishingly kind and gracious folk, who made me feel wonderfully at home from the get-go, and flogged the HELL out of my book, God bless them every one.

I then bolted from the store with amazing media escort Evelyn, who dropped me at the Phoenix airport for my flight to Houston. One two-hour flight and an $80 cab-ride later, I arrived at the beautiful and achingly hip Hotel Derek, where I was met by my great buddy from college Candace, who’d flown down from Cincinnati with the astonishingly charming and suave “very good friend” Jack, who is a total keeper. I think they bribed the maitre d’ to keep the Derek’s restaurant open for me, and I imbibed the first of many beers. Then we all stayed up ‘til 4:30 in my achingly hip room.

The next day, the two of them drove me to Murder by the Book, all of us feeling a little worse for wear. Unfortunately, we got lost, and I was sitting in the back of Jack’s ginormous car thinking “holy SHIT, I am keeping LEE CHILD waiting, and the bookstore, and the many fans of Lee who no doubt got there on TIME…” and I got more and more freaked out as we made our way down Bissonet Street.

Lee was standing outside when I leapt from the ginormous car, looking suave and debonair as always and coolly smoking a Marlboro Light.

“No worries,” he said. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes."

He was talking with brilliant and charming author Terri Molina, who’d shown up to check us out, having heard about the event on the Backspace Writer's Forum.

I looked at the two of them and realized I was about to hurl, so excused myself for the bathroom. When I had finished getting reacquainted with brunch, the tremendously kind Stancie, who was in charge of the show at MBTB, said “don’t worry, we have a nice thick door on that bathroom, and nobody heard you.”

(and may I add here that the staff of MBTB was composed of astonishingly kind and gracious folk, who made me feel wonderfully at home from the get-go, and flogged the HELL out of my book, God bless them every one. LOVE you guys!)

Then it was time to climb up on another barstool, alongside Lee. I tried not to breathe in his direction.

In the crowd were Terri, Candace and Jack, the gorgeous 39-year-old Deanie from Lee’s Reacher Creature forum, my “new cousin” Chris Read and his wife, and these two amazingly cool dudes from my old days writing for epinions.com—screenwriter AggieBrett and my good man Dwight/Counsel, AKA “El Jefe.”

Brett had driven up from Corpus, following a sleepover with a troop of Cub Scouts aboard the USS Lexington the previous night.

He described his entrance the following morning on Jefe’s “Cantina,” online hangout of epinions alums:

“Trot in and see... one crowded damned bookstore. Some limey dude is spinning tales, and Cornelia is sitting next to him with this goofy ‘at any minute someone's going to realize their mistake and make me leave’ look on her face. Not discomfort or inadequacy, but more a thrilled yet slightly overwhelmed look of ‘oh shit! this is for real!’

“Apparently this Lee Child fellar has some fans, as there were lots of folks holding teetering stacks of books for him to sign. I elbow my way to Cornelia and lean in and say ‘hey, cuz.’

“She lept -- lept, I tell you -- to her feet and hugged me warmly. I felt badly (well, not really) that all the Lee Child fans had to push around my fat ass to get to mister fancy pants limey writer as I chatted with Our Lady Cornelia. Jefe joined us 30 second later (no doubt his slower approach was due to his use of more socially acceptable means of gathering info about how and where to meet Cornelia).”

I hugged them both, those dear kind men. I’d met Jefe once before, but never laid eyes on Brett, and I am still overwhelmed that they made the time to come out for the signing.

That is what I mean about the kindness of strangers… strangers who become great and cherished friends, if you’re lucky, and I have been damn lucky in that regard.

But I would like to talk about what will be my last signing with Lee, so you’ll know why it means so damn much to me that Terri and Deanie and Mindy and Angie and Brett and Jefe and Candace and Jack and so many other intensely wonderful people have gone out of their way to welcome me into their cities, on the road.

My last signing with Lee will be at Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks, California—at 1 p.m. on Monday, June 5th. There are two people who are planning to come to that. People I haven’t heard from since October of 1997, the month my daughter Lila was diagnosed with autism. She is a beautiful girl, so smiley and affectionate that our nickname for her is “the Dalai Lila.” But she cannot speak, and she will never ever be able to live on her own.

In October of 1997, my father’s wife told me that he thinks I caused the autism. I hung up on her. That was the last time we spoke, until about a week ago when she emailed me to announce that they’d both read A Field of Darkness, commenting “I’m angry that you’re still so sad, and sad that you’re still so angry.”

My father has not deigned to communicate directly with me, as yet, though he wrote my mother a note a few days ago in which he said that the two of them plan to have “the author” sign their copy in Thousand Oaks.

I am not sure yet what I’ll be writing in that particular specimen of my book, or whether I will sign it at all.

But I think I may end up quoting Blanche Dubois’s final line from A Streetcar Named Desire—the one where she tells the men in white coats how she’s “always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

A Field of Darkness is very much about looking for home, and striving to gain the approval of family. My doppelganger Madeline Dare discovers, as I have, that our families are everywhere, and so is their kindness, if you can only broaden your perspective enough to find the true members of your tribe--wherever you happen to be.

I am so very grateful to the members of my tribe who’ve made that blessing come true for me, and I want you all to know that I’ve ALWAYS got your back.