Aurelia was instantly thrown off her high horse.
“I didn’t bring a copy with me, which seems stupid now, but I can drop it at your office after lunch, if that’s alright?”
“Sure,” he said, nodding.
They looked at each other, then shifted their eyes around the restaurant.
“I haven’t been here in ages, but it’s one of my favorite spots,” Aurelia finally managed to say.“Did James suggest it?”
“No, I did.I remembered your shop was in the area.”He paused before adding, “It’s one of my favorites too.”
Oliver smiled, then, one his genuine smiles that reached his eyes, and she was startled to find that the flutter she’d felt around him before was now a full-on tugging sensation.She was given a helpful distraction from that thought when the waiter came to take their order.
As soon as he’d gone, Oliver asked, “Why don’t you tell me about your book?What’s it about?”
Aurelia took a deep breath.
“Well, it’s not finished yet.Nearly done, but not quite there yet.I mean, it’s really just an early draft.I’m still working through—”
“Get to it.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re stalling—tell me the story.I’m going to read it eventually, anyway.”
He was right: shewasstalling.The story meant so much to her that it was hard to finally let it out into the world, but if she wanted to get the book published, that’s just what she’d have to do.
“You said before it was a retelling, or a reimagining of an older story?”he prompted her.
She looked at him and saw he’d softened a little, as if he understood her hesitation.She wanted to linger over the fact that he’d remembered what she’d said about her book but reminded herself that this was business and she needed to press on.
She nodded.“Anna Karenina.Tolstoy’s novel?”
Oliver let out a soft laugh.“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Right,” Aurelia said, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts.“Well, it’s set after the end of the novel, and it follows Alexei—Count Vronsky—after Anna’s death.”
“Uplifting.”His eyebrows went up again.
“He had such a tragic ending in the novel, and we thought—Ithought—it would be interesting to see his life afterwards, to get a better sense of what happened to him and what he made of his life after losing Anna.”
“Maybe… But whyAnna Karenina?What about a novel from Swift or Fielding, something less dreary?”
Aurelia steeled herself, insisting, “Vronsky is who I’ve chosen and Vronsky’s is the book I’m writing.”
“Alright, then.”Oliver gazed at her appraisingly.“What happens to Vronsky?”
“He fights for Serbia against the Ottomans.I don’t know if you remember, but he was heading off to fight there at the end of the novel.”
“Sure.Wasn’t he on a train with a bunch of other soldiers?”
Aurelia was impressed; his recall of the novel was better than hers.Or at least, better than it had been before she’d started this project.
“Yes, exactly.So he fights in Serbia, is there for two years, then returns to Russia to bring his wounded men back to the hospital he and Anna built at his estate.”
“Alright.What then?”
“He wraps up his affairs in Russia, then goes to Italy for a year to get his bearings.”
