by Kathryn Shay
“Well, it was that way until we finished dinner. Neither of us had plans afterward, so we went to this fascinating store in Greenwich Village. It’s like Casarina’s Old World Emporium.”
“Oh, my God, I hadn’t thought of that place in years. Did it have bones, dinosaurs and jewelry?”
“Uh-huh.” She stood, retrieved her bag from the closet and handed the gift to Calla. “I bought you a present.”
Calla drew out the malachite box. “This is beautiful.”
“I thought you could put your rings inside.”
“It’s lovely.”
They discussed the other presents she’d purchased for the family.
“And Ryder, what did he buy?”
“Nothing. He went around with me, then saw me back to the hotel.”
Sipping the hot chocolate, Calla gave her sister a knowing expression over the rim. “Did you invite him in?”
“Of course not!” Lexy glanced away. “Oh, hell, I wanted to though.”
“He’s attractive. That’s a normal reaction.”
“God, those blue eyes. All that luscious hair.”
“Hmm. Attraction would be okay, if there’s no more to it.”
Lexy shrugged. “Honestly, I liked being with him, too. He’s witty and self-effacing. Sweet.”
“He won’t be sweet when he balks at something you want in your professional dealings with him.”
“We already had it out about my background.”
“There will be more of that kind of thing.”
“Probably. I already decided anything more between us is too dangerous. I’m trying not to think about him. That’s gone pretty well with all the distraction around here.”
“I’m glad, miele. I hate seeing you suffer.”
Mamá walked into the room with Razim over her shoulder. The tiny bundle made Calla’s eyes shine.
“He’s done, burped and diapered.”
Lexy popped up. “Can I hold him?”
“Here you go, darling.”
Lexy took the infant from his grandmother. And felt a sense of well-being so encompassing, she sighed with it. This was a lot better than thinking about a man!
* * *
“Il mio amore, you finally call.”
Renata smiled into the phone. “I have called before this, husband.”
“Not nearly enough.” The king of Casarina, now talking only as a man, altered the tone of his voice to a low timbre. “I miss having you in my bed, mogile.” Wife. He said the word so possessively.
“I miss you, too.”
He let out a contented “Harrumph. How are the children? You were with three of them tonight, correct?”
“I was.” Renata thought about Alexandra and Callandra coming in from the cold, their cheeks red, their eyes alive. Lilliana returned with the others, all in the same state.
“How is Mariella? I worry about that one.”
“I think she’s doing well enough. She’s very quiet. I can’t imagine her in a courtroom. She says so little.”
“She wants the degree so she can come back here and help me review our policies and relationships with other countries, decide what needs to be added or deleted. She doesn’t have to go to court.”
“I suppose.”
“Lilliana?”
“As shy as her mother. But she loves being around her aunts and cousins. They make her more daring, I think. Now, Alexandra has shown quite a bit of spunk.”
“America influences my girls in that way. Marone!”
“She has been assertive with the publisher.”
“Is that not the right thing to do?”
“It is. But there’s more. He’s very attractive and I think our youngest is feeling something for him.” Actually, she’d inadvertently overheard the last part of Callandra and Alexandra’s conversation and filled Alessio in.
“You must dissuade her of that notion. This is business. She cannot get involved with someone who has power over her.”“I agree.” She fingered the butterfly necklace around her neck and told Alessio the circumstances of Alexandra buying it. “She purchased one for herself so we can have them close to our hearts when she’s away and I return to Casarina.”
“She will come back. She can be an author from here.”
“That’s true.”
But Renata’s worry over her daughter and the young man was not that Alexandra would stay in America, but that she’d do exactly what Alessio warned: get involved with someone who had power over her. Renata had done just that when she’d fallen in love with the future king of Casarina. And, at times, it had caused her a great deal of pain.
* * *
“So, what do you think?”
Ryder turned to the woman who’d come up to him, Elena Evans. “I’m impressed. Jackson has quite an eye for the unusual.”
As owner of the gallery, The New York Scene, she’d taken a risk on the unknown photographer. “I thought so, too.”
He gestured to the black and white photo on the wall, the last of the series A Retrospective of Old New York. “Your instinct, as usual, is spot-on.”
Her smile was broad. “Thank you. Your opinion is important to me.” The expression in her green eyes was sincere. For as long as he’d known her, she’d valued his input. Ryder wasn’t quite sure why.
He dropped his gaze to his watch. “I’m about done.”
“I need an hour with the remaining guests, then the photographer, but I should be free by eleven.”
“Great. My place?”
“Of course, darling. See you then.” With a light squeeze of his arm, she walked away. He noticed the gentle sway of her hips in the spiked red heels she wore.
Having sent the car home, Ryder was lucky to snag a cab in front of the SoHo Gallery. On the ride to his condo, the image of him in the backseat of another taxi with Alexandra Marcello ambushed him. He’d been successful at keeping thoughts of her at bay all week—distance helped—and had been proud of himself for avoiding temptation. But now images of her crowded his brain. Maybe because he would see her at the cover meeting on Monday. He shook off the notion and tried to put the young, beautiful woman back in her place.
At eleven ten, Elena flowed through his door, wearing something wispy and shimmery. At forty-three, she was a lovely woman. She kissed his cheek and greeted him. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“I’ll bet.” He walked to the bar built into the wall of his condo. “I opened champagne.”
“Hmm. I didn’t get a glass at the gallery.”
He poured them both some bubbly, then sat next to her on the mahogany leather couch. He’d shed the jacket of his suit, taken off his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp blue shirt. “To another successful exhibit.”
They clicked glasses and drank.
She said, “I’m thrilled for the photographer and gallery owner!”
He chuckled. She could be...amusing.
They spoke more about the evening, then Elena said, “We haven’t talked about you. Tell me about your new author.”
And there she was again, right in the front of his mind, wearing pink cashmere, the wind tugging at her confined hair. “My new author is very young.”
“How young?”
“Twenty-one. I knew that going in.”
Her brows arched beneath auburn hair, artfully styled. “And she’s this talented that you’d seek her out so aggressively?”
“The book is...enchanting, I guess you could say. I can’t imagine it won’t be a success.”
“Tell me about her.”
“There’s the rub.”
“Meaning?”
“She refuses to share her background.”
“At all?”
“Nada. It was a deal-breaker on her part.”
“And you put up with that?”
“My father had a hissy fit, but I smoothed things over. We made enough concessions on both sides for a plausible bio. But no one will know where she’s from, or anything about her background except that her sisters
read to her when she was little.”
“How intriguing.”
“And she’s something I’d rather not talk about.”
Elena’s eyes lit and she moved closer to him and put her hand on his knee. “What would you like to talk about...or do?”
He stood up, took her glass and put his down, then held out his hand. “Come in to the bedroom.”
“Ah.” She followed him through the roomy condo, into the master suite.
There, he would forget all about Alexandra Marcello.
Chapter 5
“Good to meet both of you.” Bridget Murphy, the creative designer chosen for Lexy’s books, greeted her and Raven warmly. She was a small woman with black hair and Irish blue eyes.
Lexy smiled. “For me also, Bridget.”
Her sister’s greeting was perfunctory but Raven had told Lexy that she was excited about today.
Ryder said, “Good morning to both of you. Shall we sit?”
They settled around an oval table with Ryder across from the two of them, facing Bridget, who sat at the end of the table. “Do you two know the process publishers go through to make a cover?”
“I researched it online,” Lexy told her. “But I’d prefer you tell us in person.”
“Fine by me. Ravenna?”
“Of course. Whatever Lexy wants.”
“First off, the designer is given a brief document that outlines the shape and size of the cover, important in this genre because children’s books can be a variety of sizes. Yours will probably be eight by eleven, but the layout may alter it a bit.”
“That sounds like a common size.” Lexy had bought some children’s books to compare the physicality of them.
“We’re usually given a brief summary of the story, its back cover blurb and passages that represent your style. I also read the manuscript, which was delightful, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Lexy was genuinely grateful for the praise Bridget gave her work. This woman knew the business.
“Because it’s illustrated, beautifully, we’ll be using the characters on the cover.”
“As they are?” Raven asked.
“Yes, exactly. And that makes our job easier. But we also need to evoke a sense of what the story is about.”
“As in...”
“The personality of Pickles, her dynamics with the other characters, the atmosphere of the setting.”
“My sister’s drawings do that, don’t they?”
“Some. But I need a little more.” She turned back to her notes. “Finally, we’ll communicate with the editor, and sales and marketing.”
Ryder spoke for the first time. “And we do listen to the latter, Alexandra, because sales are crucial.”
“I understand that.”
“So, first we come up with what we call roughs, which are exactly what the name sounds like—rough concepts of possible covers.” She put her hand on a large folder. “This week, I’ve begun that process. But since you have cover approval, I’d like to show them to you and see what you think before I go further.”
“I can’t wait to see what you have.” Lexy couldn’t stifle her excitement, even if it did emphasize her naiveté about these things.
Raven squeezed her arm.
Bridget took out one rough. The drawing showed Raven’s characters in the garden of the princess. Pickles was center stage, her big brown eyes bulging as she looked at Miss Lovely Lettuce’s jagged leaves. The plants around her all had jagged edges. “Any suggestions on emotional content?”
Raven quietly studied the copy. “Miss Lovely Lettuce can have a tear in her eye. Tater and String Bean should be frowning.”
“Anything else? About the garden, maybe?”
“The garden is exactly from the book, right, Raven?”
“Yes. So I’m good with what you did.”
“Where’s the princess?” Ryder asked.
“I’ve done a few versions, some have her on the cover and some don’t. Marketing will have suggestions on that.”
Lexy cocked her head. “The castle in the background is different.”
“Different from what? You hardly show it in the books.”
My castle. Uh-oh. How to cover quickly. “The one in my imagination.”
“Ah. Is this one appealing to you?”
Raven nudged her knee under the table. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to use the Casarina palace, which was what Lexy had in mind.
From there they talked about placement of the title, and Lexy’s and Raven’s names. “I want my name smaller than Lexy’s.”
“Seriously?” from Bridget.
“You do?” from Ryder.
“Yes.”
“I don’t need that, Raven.”
“I do, Lex.”
Lexy turned to Ryder. “What do you think?”
“I’m still back on the nicknames you use for each other.”
“We started with them when we were little. Our parents don’t use them at all.”
“The names on the cover?” Bridget reminded them.
“Sure, go with the smaller illustrator credit,” Ryder said. “That’s what she wants.”
For the next half hour, Bridget showed them three more roughs. Alexandra loved them all, but Raven had an artist’s eye and she suggested some pieces of each be combined.
Bridget listened. “You know, that might work.”
When they finished, Ryder sat back in his chair. “Bridget, thank you for walking us through this. Could you go back to the drawing board and incorporate some of Ravenna’s ideas?”
“I will. I like them. And I’ll check with marketing. Sometimes they want more roughs. They may even want the princess on the cover.”
Lexy gave the woman a gracious smile. “Thank you, Bridget.”
“One more thing. It doesn’t need to be done right now, but soon I’d like a synopsis of the next two books so I can get an idea for those covers.”
Ryder focused on Lexy and Raven. “My father suggested all three covers be done together so they can be advertised at the end of the first book.”
Since she hadn’t known they’d want two more books, Lexy hadn’t fleshed them out. But she’d thought about them. “I have some ideas for the stories. They’re in the first podcast script for the books.”
“You’ve got that done, too?” Ryder asked.
“Very roughly. I’ll work on them this week.”
Bridget left and Raven stood. “I’m meeting some friends in the Village.” Raven came to New York often. “Lexy, would you like to come along?”
“No, I think I’ll go back to the hotel and get started on the next two stories.”
“See you later, then.”
When they were alone, Lexy faced Ryder over the table. He asked, “So what do you think of your first cover meeting?”
“That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”
“Because of your sister’s illustrations.”
“Maybe.”
“Bridget is pretty easy to work with. I specifically requested her for your books.”
Now that they were in an informal setting, she let herself notice details about him. Today, he wore a navy sports coat but had forgone a tie with his crisp, light blue shirt. The colors made his eyes glow like gems. His hair fell in soft waves to the collar. “Alexandra, you’re staring at me.”
“My mind drifted back to the covers.”
“So, I have a suggestion.”
She arched her brows.
“Why don’t you and I brainstorm some ideas for the next book? Editors often do that, especially with new writers.”
“Sounds good. When would you like to start?”
“Over lunch.” He took out his cell. “I’ll make reservations.”
* * *
Seated at a table in the Tavern on the Green, Ryder looked down at the podcast scripts Alexandra had given him.
Podcast #1
(Pickles appears. She’s about five inches high and an inch round. She
has big brown eyes and smiles a lot.) Hi, there. I’m Pickles and I live in a cucumber patch in a beautiful garden on the grounds of Princess Esmeralda’s house. Princess Emmie is my best friend, but I have three others who share my garden.
(Tater appears. He is round and rough with dark eyes that are slats in his face.) Pickles continues: Tater is a roly-poly kind of guy who lives underground in our garden. (The doll bends so Tater seems shy, demure.) He goes missing in the first book. (At The Evolution Store, but Pickles doesn’t reveal that now.)
(Mr. String Bean appears. He’s tall and skinny and wears sunglasses all the time.) Mr. B inhabits a stalk right across the road. This doll bends too, but with a flourish, and his glasses fall down a bit.
(On the scene comes Miss Lovely Lettuce with big green eyes and a curly fan of green behind her.) This is Miss Lovely Lettuce who’s very smart and well, lovely. She moves and it seems as if she fans her leaves.
Together we solve mysteries, which is hard. Sometimes, animals chase us. Other times, the Princess gets really mad because she worries when we’re gone. And then there’s the Bad Man, who is usually behind all our troubles.
Cases: Once, Piglet came to the garden because his friend, Little Piggy was missing. (Show pics of the Pig and Little Piggy.) We found him in the Bad Man’s barn and had to break him out.
Another time, the Old Lady who lives under the boards of the palace stoop (Show Old Lady pic), crept over to see us because her little Johnny ran away. We found him on the side of the road, hurt. We patched him up.
Pickles straightens and stares right at the camera. That’s all for now. Up next, my friends will introduce themselves to you.
Podcast #2
Tater gets lost in The Evolution Store after jumping into the princess’s pocket.
When Ryder finished reading about the last podcast, he leaned back in his chair. “I can’t believe you’re going to send Pickles to The Evolution Store.”
Her big brown eyes danced. “I only decided on the location when I was away at my sister’s house. I knew Pickles would have an adventure trying to find Tater. And the museum was fresh in my mind.”
