Just put 'Love from Gran' - fiction

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Edit: There are a few of myLot members who have published books and go to book-signing functions. This one is for them. I forgot to put this bit when I first submitted it. Love from Gran Ian's leg was aching. He stretched it as best he could under the card table, trying not to get tangled in the Christmas tinsel. A plastic chair and a card table in a downtown café: Maybe when he wrote his 'blockbuster' his agent would come up with slightly more salubrious surroundings for a book launch. But for now this was it and it was time to meet and greet the middle-aged matrons who smiled coyly at him and held out their copies for his signature. He shot a quick glance down the line of waiting figures. Another half-hour should do it. As he held out his hand for the next copy, a face suddenly appeared in front of his nose. The skin was brown and wrinkled reminding him of a walnut. A toothless mouth gaped at him in a cheery smile. Blue eyes sat like semi-precious stones in an expanse of wrinkles. "G'day, dearie," said a husky voice. "How are you?" And bony, claw-like fingers pushed a book under his nose. Ian leaned back a little. "Hello" he said. "What name would you like me to write?" "Just put 'Fiona, love from Gran'. And I'll have it gift-wrapped please." "Sorry, we don't do gift-wrapping at this table," said Ian. He paused, then went on. "Wouldn't it be best if you wrote 'from Gran' later and I put, I don't know, maybe 'best wishes from Ian Grainger'?" The walnut lifted her head. "Why would you put 'Ian Grainger' on it? Who's he?" "I'm Ian Grainger. I wrote the book. Normally I'd put 'to Fiona from Ian Granger'." "But you're not giving her the book. I'm giving her the book." She leaned forward again. "So just put 'To Fiona, love from Gran', there's a dear." Ian sighed. "Are you going to read it first?" he asked. "No way," said the walnut. "It says it's a tender, romantic story. Not my cup of tea at all. I like a good murder." The photo is of my grand-mother.