“He and Anna lived there for a while, didn’t they?Wouldn’t it be too painful for him to go back there?”
“Yes, but those memories will follow him anywhere—he can’t escape having lost her.”
Aurelia and Vronsky had been through the same conversation, only she’d been arguing Oliver’s side at the time.
“It’s a chance for him to get grounded after the war, after not having time to really consider a future and what he might like to make of it,” Aurelia continued.“He’s left Russia, left behind friends and family, so it’s a big leap for him.He needs the year in Italy to rediscover what he loves about life—like painting, going out, and being social.After two years at war we—I—thought he needed a chance to recuperate.He was raised as a soldier but even so, as mundane as it sounds, he needed a holiday.”
Aurelia caught herself talking about Vronsky as if she’d just been chatting with him.Which, of course, she had, but she needed to rein herself in if she didn’t want to scare Oliver off.
“At least, that’s my approach,” she added.
“He goes to Italy, lets loose, and then?”
“Then he moves to France for what we—I—think will be a permanent change of address.He speaks French fluently and it’s close enough to the Russian society he’s used to, but a little less rigid, especially since he’ll be an outsider.He can make a start on a new life there.”
“Hang on,” Oliver interrupted, sounding irritated, “is there a co-author I should meet?”
“Sorry?”
“You keep saying ‘we.’Are you cowriting this with someone?Is there a ghost writer or something?I don’t usually go in for that sort of thing.I want to work directly with my authors.”
Oliver put down his knife and fork and stared at Aurelia from across the table.It seemed as if the entire restaurant fell silent as she readied a response.
“No.No, there’s no ghost writer—no co-writer—just me.”
She was panicking, thinking quickly how to cover her mistake.
“I get a bit carried away when I’m writing.It’s going to sound ridiculous, but sometimes I feel like…”
She realized there was nothing for it—she might as well go all in.
“I feel like I’m in conversation with my characters.Like they’re guiding me through the story.”
She looked down and pushed the last few bites of lunch around her plate with her fork, waiting for Oliver to politely—or not so politely—decide against working together.
“One of those, eh?I’ve worked with your type before.”
He smiled, teasing her, and she gave a smile in return.
“Do you think you could work with one again?”
“Let’s see your pages first.You’ve given me the bare bones of a story.I need to see the innards and flesh before I can decide if there’s some life there.”
“‘Innards and flesh’?You’re lucky I have an iron stomach,” Aurelia said as the waiter arrived with a dessert menu.“Otherwise you would’ve put me off dessert and I’d never have forgiven you.”
36
Overdessert,Oliverdiscussedhis editing process and style, and explained how the small company managed its authors and publication schedule.Aurelia tried to focus but she was distracted by the fact that it might really happen—the book might actually get published.As they left the restaurant, he offered to walk her back to the shop to get a copy of her book, rather than wait for her to bring it round to his office.
Aurelia kept wanting to bring up their date or David and James’s meddling and make a joke about it just to get it out in the open, but Oliver was so stoic she wasn’t sure if bringing it up would help ease any lingering tension between them or just add to it.After a few minutes, she was glad she’d decided against it because she rediscovered that his reserve almost entirely melted when they talked about books.He reminded her that he preferred more modern authors, from David Mitchell to Kazuo Ishiguro, and teased her again about the fact that her bookshop only sold books by authors born before 1900.
“Are you trying to drive customers away?Hard copy books by obscure authors?”
“They’re hardly obscure!Well, most of them, anyway.”
She unlocked the door to the shop, and he stepped in behind her, quiet as he once again took in the shelves and silence.It was almost a moment of reverence and she gave him a chance to enjoy it before speaking up again.
“I’ve got the chapters just here,” she said, walking toward her desk and taking off her coat.“Can I get you coffee?Tea?”
