One of the most interesting parts of this tour so far has been meeting the wonderful people who come to listen to me read from my new novel and have me sign the title page. In LA at Doug Dutton's bookstore, a silvery blonde handed me a copy of IN FIDELITY.

"Would you sign it to Marilyn?" she asked in a lilting, girlish voice that was slightly reminiscent of a movie star also named Marilyn.

I shivered --- she sounded like her, she looked like her --- for a minute I thought I was seeing a ghost. But she turned out to be a transvestite who does Marilyn impersonations for a living.

"I just love the title," she said breathlessly.

At A Clean Well Lighted Place for Books in San Francisco, one of the people I was thrilled to meet was Karen Templer, who runs a dream of a booklover's site called Readerville.com. Karen is one of the best read people I know --- as are many of the people who visit her site. At Readerville.com, everyone posts --- morning, noon, and night --- all about books --- from titles they hate to covers they love and everything in between.

And then there was the florist who came to my reading at R. J. Julia's in Madison, CT. --- not because she'd ever heard of my books or me but because my last name is Rose and guess what her favorite flowers are? After the reading she bought three copies of my novel to give to each of her daughters --- all florists who work in the family run store two towns over.

Last week, I was at a brand new Barnes & Noble in Cobble Hill in Brooklyn. What a wonderful store --- it was 7:30 at night and the joint was jumping. There were over 25 people at the reading, which was set up in a quiet section on the second floor.

I didn't know anyone at the reading. Or at least I didn't think I did. I certainly didn't recognize anyone. But afterwards, a quite elderly lady approached with my novel in hand and a very wide smile on her face. There was something about that smile and the way it only lifted in the corners that was familiar. But I couldn't place her, and she knew it.

"It's Mrs. Chestnut," she said. "And I'm really proud of you."

"But how --- " I was flabbergasted.

Mrs. Chestnut was my high school English teacher. One of those special educators who cares about her students and knows, year after year, how to make reading and creative writing exciting and meaningful to group after group of teenagers.

"I live nearby," she explained. "I was in earlier tonight and saw the poster of you downstairs. I recognized you right away. Your hair is exactly the same. And I just had to come back --- to see you --- to tell you how much it means to me and how proud I am --- that you wrote a book!"

Out of the crowd, on a cold crisp winter night in a bookstore across the bridge from where I'd grown up and gone to school, I signed my novel for Mrs. Chestnut.

And then I thanked her --- so many years later --- for her ability to reach out to at least this one student and ignite a fire that never went out.

--- M. J. Rose