She rolled her eyes and sat down in the armchair behind me. “Yes. I can see how that might be possible. But you must realize how difficult this is. I’m letting someone else do the singular thing I love most in the world. This isn’t comfortable.”
“Then get a new one,” a voice I recognized said.
“Not the chair, Grady!” Elizabeth snapped. “Having someone else write my book, for heaven’s sake.”
“Mom, it’s been, what, four hours? You have to be more open minded. Give this all a chance.”
My heart raced uneasily, because this could not fall apart. I made a mental note not to complain to Elizabeth. I needed this job. I needed her to hold up her end of the bargain. I needed another shot at my big dream.
Gradysaunteredtoward me. Elizabeth would like that better thanwalked. He smiled a smile that made my heart flutter, and handed me a manila envelope. “Your contract.”
I nodded, feeling a little uncertain.
He turned. “Mom, same for you.”
Then he turned back to me and, leaning in close, his breath on my ear sending a trail of goose bumps all along my neck and down my arm, said, “Since you don’t have an agent, I was yours. I took care of you.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, letting it linger.
He took care of me.He was mine.
My “thank you” came out throatily. Was it getting hot in here?
Elizabeth sighed. “I need a lunch break.”
“Me too!” I said, relieved. “And more coffee!”
Elizabeth looked from Grady to me and said, “Darling, could you please take Lila to the historic site to see the Lords and Ladies display? I feel she is having a little trouble ascertaining what our characters would be wearing.” She smirked at me. “And maybe get some lunch while you’re at it. I need you fresh and energized for the afternoon!”
I wanted to defend myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what they would be wearing. It was that she was looming over me like a vulture, and I couldn’t eventhink. But I bit my tongue.
“Don’t you want to come with us?” I asked.
“No,” she said pertly. “Iknowwhat our characters would be wearing.”
Grady coughed to cover his laugh and put his hand on the small of my back, leading me toward the door.
Exiting into the bright light of the day and walking down the wooden-planked boardwalk was like stepping into a different world. I looked out over the harbor filled with beautiful sailboats and fishing boats docked for the season. It was so picturesque here. I reminded myself that all this was worth it if it meant I got to stay.
“I feel like I’ve just busted out of prison.” I paused. “I mean, no offense. I know she’s your mom ...”
Grady laughed as our feet moved in time. “Oh, I know exactly what she’s like,” he said. “I’m not going to lie and say this attitude is out of character. She’s always been, um, formidable.” He paused. “But my dad’s death changed her. He was her calming force, and I can’t be what he was to her. I don’t know how to fix her or soothe her like he did.”
I looked over at him as we walked. “Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone can fix a person’s broken heart. Not even her own son. It’s just a place she’s going to have to get to on her own.” I wondered if I was overstepping as I said, “Has it been hard on you too?”
He nodded. “My dad was my best friend, and his death was so sudden. But I think I’ve just been avoiding all that to try to take care of Mom.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked over at me. “Sorry! Wow. Let’s be less depressing.”
I gasped as, as if on cue, a dolphin jumped out of the water. I grabbed Grady’s arm and pointed, realizing it was a whole pod. “Talk about brightening things up!” I said.
We paused to watch them before turning up the sidewalk and into the blue historic home with gingerbread trim ona street of historic homes, where the Lords and Ladies exhibit was held. Walking inside was, truly, like walking into one of our novels. Or one of Elizabeth’s, anyway, as Victoria had made it clear I no longer wrote Regencies. The original hardwood was covered in thick oriental rugs, and dark-wood furniture and velvet settees contrasted with wispy lace curtains. Mannequins were staged around the room to look natural. Ladies on a settee, men (clearly discussing the market) in the corner, the butler over by the bar cart, and so on and so forth.
“I love it here,” I whispered.
“Oh, me too,” Grady said sarcastically.
A tour guide was leading a group through the back rooms, so we had this parlor basically to ourselves. Grady took the opportunity to whisk a very refined top hat off one of the male mannequins and put it on his head. “Lila, darling,” he said in an affected accent with maybe a touch of British, “will you join me for a snifter of brandy in the drawing room?”
I giggled and whispered, “Put that back! We’re going to get in trouble!”
He did as I requested as I studied the women’s hats, the fullness of their skirts, their jewelry.
