“Did you expect glass and steel?”
Emily laughed. “You’re reading my mind
again.”
“Am I?” Derian asked softly. “I didn’t
realize I was.”
Emily colored. “It seems you hear what I’m
saying when I’m talking in my head.”
“I apologize if I’m intruding, then.”
“No,” Emily said quickly. “You’re not. I…it’s
just unanticipated, that’s all. Probably my imagination.”
“And tell me,” Derian said, still standing
beside her, her topcoat open, her sleek frame somehow eclipsing the surrounding
opulence, “what did you expect?”
Suddenly very warm, Emily shrugged out of her
coat and folded it over her arm.
“Forgive me, I’m being a poor host,” Derian
said into the silence, taking the coat from her and hanging it in a spacious
closet next to the door. She shrugged out of her topcoat and stored it next to
Emily’s. Her blazer she tossed carelessly over the arm of the sofa as she
glanced back at Emily. “Well? What did you imagine?”
“I suppose I did expect something very modern
and…” Emily, usually so good with words, always finding just the right one to
shade any meaning, searched for a phrase that didn’t sound shallow or
deprecating.
Derian laughed. “Glitzy? Over-the-top?
Flamboyant?”
“No,” Emily protested, laughing. “I’m trying
to think of how one would describe a race car. I guess that’s what I
expected—efficient, beautiful in a high-tech kind of way, but not so…personal.
So intimate.”
“Intimate.” Derian glanced around the room as
if she’d never seem it before. “You’re right, about the cars. I do think
they’re beautiful, a perfect blend of form and function. But I wouldn’t want to
surround myself with them.” She gestured to the marble fireplace, the carved
wainscoting, the complex ceiling moldings. “I think this is probably
Henrietta’s influence. I spent a lot of time with her when I was younger, and
she instilled an appreciation in me for the beauty of craftsmanship, the care
of creating something that will last.”
“I know,” Emily said softly. “That’s how I
feel about the books we represent at the agency.”
“Even today? Hasn’t the art of publishing
given way to the allure of big business? Haven’t you all gone to a best-seller
model? Here today, gone tomorrow?”
“You’re not entirely wrong,” Emily said,
impressed that Derian even thought about what the world of publishing was like.
She never appeared at the agency, never attended any of the business meetings,
but she clearly knew the direction of change in recent years. “That’s what I
love about our agency. We don’t just look for the kinds of works that will sell
the most. We look for the kinds of works that will live on, that will add something
to the understanding of our times or provoke thought, or simply be a beautiful
example of the art.”
Derian smiled. “I can see that Henrietta has
had an influence on you too, or perhaps it’s the other way around. Perhaps she
chose you because you’re a kindred soul.”
“If that were true, I would be incredibly
honored.”
Derian walked to the far end of the big room,
skirted behind a waist-high bar, and opened a tall mahogany cabinet to reveal a
hidden refrigerator. She chuckled. “When I sent my luggage ahead, someone
decided to stock in some supplies.” She took out a platter of cheese and other
appetizers and set a bottle of champagne next to it. “Help yourself while I
shower. I did promise you dinner and no more than a fifteen-minute wait.”
As she spoke, Derian opened the bottle of
champagne, pulled two fluted glasses from a glass-fronted cabinet over the
counter, and poured the frothing wine. She picked up hers and held the other
out to Emily. “Do you drink?”
“On occasion.” And never anything with a label like that.
Emily took the glass and sipped. The bubbles played across her tongue like
sunshine. “Oh. That’s…nice.”
Derian grinned. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Emily said, watching Derian
move with smooth grace toward the hall. “I don’t have anywhere to be tonight.”
Derian glanced back over her shoulder, a dark
glint in her eyes. “Good. Neither do I, and I’m enjoying the company.”
