Beate

“With the baby due in the next few days,” she said, toying with her paper plate loaded with peppery carne asada, “I simply can’t imagine why Butch would run off to El Paso like this. It makes no sense. It’s inexcusable.” “His publisher wanted him to go,” Joanna said patiently. “And so did I. It’s an honor to be invited to appear on a conference panel before your book is even released.” “Honor or not, it’s irresponsible for him to leave you alone like this, especially in your condition. Besides, I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Margaret replied. “His book is only a mystery, isn’t it? After all, it’s not as though it’s a real book.”
― J.A. Jance, Dead Wrong