So, while Liam stayed at the desk, unwittingly playing chaperone, Pierre moved her laptop to the round conference table by the window and connected it to Gabriel’s drive to scan through the pictures.
Gabriel was very methodical and had organised his photographs into separate folders which corresponded to the different chapters in her book.
Not her book alone. It was going to be his as much as hers.
“Are we doing this in historical order, with the older traditions first?” Gabriel asked.
She’d been thinking about this. “That’s boring to anyone except history nerds like me,” she told him. “I want to do it like a romantic journey. Starting with…” She ruffled through her papers.
“Starting with the New Moon Ceremony?” he asked, clicking on a folder on her screen. “Because that’s before the romance even begins, when the girls and boys are still not sure if they’ll marry.” He opened the subfolders which were marked:The Maiden’s Dance, The Bachelors Guard, The Fire,andThe New Moon.
They worked well together, almost anticipating each other’s thoughts without needing to speak. Around midday, they came to the anecdote of the Jilted Man in the cider press. Gabriel offered her a gorgeous photograph. It showed sunlight slanting through a large glass bottle of cider, the amber liquid turning gold where the light hit it. The rest of the cider bottles, in shadow, were a deep brown. It almost told the story by itself, like a dream of intoxicating but illicit love among the dark corners of loss and heartache.
Even Liam had abandoned his house project and came to watch them compiling the book.
The next day, at breakfast, Liam asked if he could join them again. “As long as I’m not a distraction.”
“Not at all,” Gabriel, sitting next to Liam, clapped him on the back, but he had first glanced towards Pierre.
Was this the goddess granting her other wish? Throwing Liam in with them like that would help keep her away from Gabriel.
Pierre grinned widely at Liam; he was a nice man. “Of course. I think it’s good to have a test audience to give us feedback.”
Whatever the goddess did or didn’t do, keeping them away from each other was only a relative term. Sitting side by side, looking at the same computer screen was hardly distance. They spent nearly seven hours a day together, working on the same project, laughing, and chatting easily.
Liam’s presence did prevent private discussions and there was no flirting. But it didn’t stop her being physically aware of Gabriel. Every time he leaned closer to look at her laptop screen, she got a whiff of his scent. Like a secret connection, it made her feel as if they’d already known each other more intimately. She’d also lost count of how many times his arm had brushed hers as he reached for the mouse or clicked something on her keyboard.
He was the perfect gentleman, but every so often she’d catch his eyes on her.
And that was not all.
Late every night, she heard Nicole’s voice on the other side of the wall on her transatlantic phone calls, giving instructions about publicity, social media, websites, and negotiating office rent in LA. But no conversations between Nicole and Gabriel. Nicole was loud enough as usual, but it was all phone calls. As if she was alone in the room.
______
The third day was deadline day. If they got the completed manuscript to the printers that afternoon, the book would be printed and ready in time for the wedding. If they missed their deadline, their printing slot would go to someone else.
Without discussing it, both she and Gabriel had gone down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast at 6 am, then hurried to the office. They went through the entire manuscript from start to finish, adding a few words here, adjusting a quote, replacing one picture with another. They didn’t even stop to talk to Liam when he came in a little later.
When Cook knocked on the office door, Pierre was surprised it was already 1.30 pm.
“Come and have lunch before you fade away.” She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and made it clear she wasn’t budging until they obeyed. “It’s one thing working hard, but you do know slavery was abolished a long time ago.”
Gabriel and Pierre shared a laugh. “Okay, Mrs Cook. We’re almost finished,” Gabriel said, turning back to the screen.
“Oh no, you don’t. It’s not my job to go rounding up people like a play-school teacher. Come on now. Don’t make my life a misery.”
It did the trick. Looking guilty, Gabriel saved the file and pushed his chair back.
As they went down the stairs, Pierre nudged him. “You know we call her Cook because it’s her role here.”
“Hmm,” he agreed, stepping aside to let her go in front of him.
“You just called her ‘Mrs Cook.’” Pierre kept her voice down so the woman herself wouldn’t hear them. She had already rounded the corner past the landing ahead.
“That’s because she is Mrs Cook.”
Pierre paused and looked up at him. “No, it’s just what we call her. She won’t—”
