Jacob arched his brows as if to say,We’d know by now if you’d get on with it.
Internally, however, every bone and vein trembled with fear that he still hadn’t managed to get things right.
She unraveled the bow and tucked the ribbon into her bodice. The white silk fell away from its hidden treasure, revealing—
“Playing cards?” she exclaimed in surprise and confusion. “I do like a good game of patience, but I don’t understand…”
“Look at them,” he coaxed.
She handed him the scrap of silk, then held the deck to the light to view its intricate decorative pattern of limes and letters and badgers and spiders and quills and ink and theater curtains and breakfast feasts.
“You didn’t purchase these,” she said softly. “You commissioned them.”
He held his breath.
She turned the deck over, face up in her palm. Instead of an ace, as was customary, decorative calligraphy filled the interior of the card:
Redeemable for the writing materials of the bearer’s choice.
If she so chooses.
She snorted softly, then flipped to the next card:
Redeemable for the services of any member of staff to ease the bearer’s burden or free the bearer’s time.
If she so chooses.
Then the next:
Redeemable for the writing retreat of the bearer’s choice: the temporary or dedicated use of a room or lodging, equipped to her specifications.
If she so chooses.
Then the next:
Instructions to Jacob Wynchester: Don’t act. Just listen.
She glanced up at him, her face full of questions.
He smiled hesitantly. “I didn’t want to gift you something that would wear and fade with time. I want you to have whatever you need, whatever would most help. Even if—or especially if—that thing is me sitting still and shutting up.”
She turned to the next card:
Redeemable for the services of the complete Wynchester siblings in conjunction with Philippa’s extended book club, whose excellent penmanship and joint effort can produce a dozen copies of the bearer’s play in two hours. If she so wishes.
She touched her throat as a startled laugh burst free. “This would save me weeks of effort. I wouldn’t even know how to choose which script to contribute.”
“As fortune would have it,” he said softly, “none of these cards aresingle-use. The ones involving me in particular can be redeemed as many times as you wish to do so.”
She scanned the cards faster and faster, alternately gasping or snickering or shooting him an expression so tender, it warmed him to his toes.
He waited until she was finished before speaking again. “As with many things, you were right about me. The fatal flaw in my family is us assuming our first impulse is the right one. That because we’ve devisedasolution, we must immediately execute it without further consideration.”
“My assessment wasn’t wrong,” she said softly, “but I see now it was incomplete.”
“There will always be room for improvement,” he replied. “And I want you to know that I will be doing that work.”
She glanced down at the cards in her hands, and fanned them across her lap, offer-side-up.
