Lorne stepped between the woman and me, and as she took her phone from her bag and raised it, his hand followed it up, blocking her shot. "No photos, please."

"Aww! Just one for Instagram."

"And assist others in finding her?"

"What?" The woman shook her head. "Oh, goodness, no. To share with her fans and with my reading club."

"Compromising her location, enabling many others to disrupt her privacy."

"Oh!" The woman lowered her phone and sidestepped Lorne to see me behind him. "Sorry, Ms Redburn. Didn't even think."

"It's fine." While I worked at calming my rapid breathing, I examined her face, continuing with my standard comment, "You look familiar, but I can't place you."

"At your Indigo launches. I'm Claire – you've signed seven of your books for me."

"Yes, of course." No, of course not. One of the many hundreds – thousands – nameless but for the book inscriptions. "Been three years since I've done one of those. You have a good memory."

"Your enchanting smile and huge red hair are impossible to forget." She chuckled. "Particularly with your portrait on the back covers to remind. When's your next one being published?"

"It has a Thanksgiving theme, so we're targeting early October. Should do another public launch with it."

"Ooh! If I bring the four you've not signed, would you do them for me there?"

"I'd be delighted to – as long as you don't tell anyone you've seen me here. Allow me to relax." I pointed along the mall. "We must go. Dinner reservation. Nice seeing you again, Claire."

"Yes, of course. Sorry to interrupt. See you in October."

As Claire rejoined her group, Lorne guided me through the evening crowd, and when out of earshot, I said, "A frequent occurrence, but this time it startled me."

"On edge because of the situation."

"Yeah." I blew a deep breath. "I've always been comfortable with the recognition and interaction, knowing they help my sales. But this was so different. Tense."

"They often shoot photos of you?"

"Ummm." I nodded. "Lots of tagged over-the-shoulder selfies on Twitter, most out of focus – likely the same on Instagram and Facebook. I love the automatic marketing."

"Most of them geo-tagged. Simple to track you."

"Oh, God!" I slapped a hand to my mouth and mumbled through it. "Need to hide my face."

"If Claire recognised you, possibly other fans will, as well."

"Even more likely now – the Writers' Festival was this weekend. I had been invited to present a workshop, but with my editing pressure, I declined."

"Oh! That changes the risk." He took my hand and quickened his pace.

We left the bustling pedestrian mall, and as we walked through the much less busy courtyard between the wings of the Hilton, I said, "Few would have lingered; the last session finished mid-afternoon."

"Where was it?"

"Down at the Conference Centre."

"Great! Not many would have wandered up here – there's a far larger and more affordable selection of hotels and restaurants down there."

A short while later, feeling more relaxed as we walked through the refined calmness of the Four Seasons lobby, I chuckled. "Thinking about writing – my editing pressure has disappeared."

"Ummm. And we were going to examine your contract." Lorne guided me toward the restaurant entrance.

"Yeah, everything's been put on hold, hasn't it? As if Fate has conspired to bring us together." I tilted my head. "I've written plots on the forced-together trope, but never with such complexity, nor with such high stakes."

"Reality often shows fiction as simplistic."

"Yeah, true. I should base a story on ..."

I paused as the maître d' said, "Good to see you again, Mr Wilson. We've held your favourite table." He turned to look at me and motioned an arm into the rooms. "This way, please."

When we had settled into our seats at a secluded corner table, I said, "Seems you're a regular here."

"I use this as a foundation, as one of my reference points for assessing other places. Usually dine here two or three times a month throughout the ski season."

"Ummm, like I use Crocodile, Tojo's, Vij's and Hawksworth as my standards."

"Oh, my! So similar. I use Bishop's and Five Sails instead of Crocodile and Hawksworth, but it's a toss-up between them."

"Yeah, keep trying the others, hoping for something better." I winced and blew a deep breath. "Damn! There's Nathan's better the next time again."

Lorne laid his hand on mine and gently squeezed. "Remember to think of now as being that better time, Kate."

"Ummm, need to move on. So, what are your favourites here?"

"Hands down, the mixed seafood plate – cedar-planked steelhead trout with crab legs, scallops and prawns."

"Ooh, sounds wonderful – let's do that. And what for an entrée?"

"With that, none – the quantity is generous. Also, they present a fine amuse bouche selection with aperitifs, and that serves well to whet the appetite."

I was about to speak when a waitress arrived and said, "Good evening. Do you wish aperitifs?"

Lorne nodded. "A bottle of the Grey Monk Odyssey Brut, please."

"Yes, sir."

As she laid the menus on the table, Lorne added, "And the mixed seafood for two."

"Excellent, sir."

After the waitress had retrieved the menus and left, I said, "Appears you know their wine list, as well."

Lorne smiled. "I do – a diverse and well-presented one, with an eclectic selection by the glass. Its only drawback is the three hundred per cent markup. The thirty-dollar Gray Monk bubbly is one twenty here."

"Wow!"

"But we see that with other places such as this. The superb cuisine, the ambience, the quality of service, the Riedel stemware, and on and on. If their prices weren't high, there'd be lineups circling the hotel and down the hill."

"Yeah, true. They need to filter clientele – raise their prices beyond the point of resistance of all but the most serious."

"Exactly! There's an exponential price escalation at the top end of quality and rarity. Here, besides the wealthy foodies, they'd have a sprinkling of the international elite, the Hollywood set, the European royals, the Middle East emirs, the internet billionaires, the –"

"The Mafia bosses, the cartel lords, the underground who's who."

"True. They blend well in this environment."

"So the leaders of the restaurant scam could be in here."

Lorne nodded. "Yes, a possibility. But that's not –" He paused as the waitress approached and presented the bottle.

When it had been opened, our flutes poured, and the waitress had left, I said, "You seem unconcerned that they could be here."

"Any of them dining in this style wouldn't be involved in the details, and they wouldn't know what you or I look like. They're juggling many crises more serious than finding us – like their now collapsing empire. But they focus on the overview and have their underlings handle the details."

We carried on a rambling conversation while enjoying the assortment of amuse bouches and sips of bubbly; then, after our plates had been cleared, a carver wheeled a trolley to our table and announced, "Your mixed seafood." Then moving a knife and fork above the trout, he said, "Tell me where you wish this divided."

Several minutes later, as I dipped a piece of crab in drawn butter, a voice surprised me, "Wow! Catherine! Sneaking away from Nathan. Always thought you and Lorne belong together."