Page 70 of Slow Burn Summer

Charlie looked uncomfortable. “Because that’s the hook that’s driven the offers up sky-high. The book community is international and all of the publicity generated aroundThe Power of Lovehere has fueled massive global interest. Everyone wants a slice of the pie while it’s hot.”

“At my expense,” she muttered, squaring her shoulders. “What if I say no?”

He shook his head, his expression telling her what his words didn’t. There was no get-out clause. “I should have seen this coming. My father would have.”

“And no doubt Fiona did.”

Charlie’s silence spoke volumes.

“Just so I’m clear…All of the humiliation that’s happeninghere is going to escalate, but a million times worse because this time it will be readers from all over the USA chipping in,” she said, flat with distress. “And I can’t do a damn thing about it except sit here and wait for the onslaught, let everyone call me a fraud, and a liar, and an opportunist.”

“You’re none of those things.”

“It doesn’t matter what I am, though, does it? It matters what everyone says I am. People believe what they read, Charlie.” She grabbed her overnight bag and swung on her heel. “I’m going inside.”

“Shall I come in and talk this through?”

She shook her head. “I want to be on my own. You’re not the only one with things to think about.”

—

She made coffee on autopilot,fear and anxiety deadweights in her chest. It was all so messed up and about to get worse. There had already been too much collateral damage to the people she loved. Liv was putting a brave face on it but she’d definitely taken heat online for her trifle-hurling stunt, and Nish and the kids were all feeling the aftermath from school friends and colleagues. Alice had had such a torrid time with Flynn the Aussie heartbreaker, although in a way Kate was relieved he’d at least shown his true colors early. Richard had left her a curt message the night before to let her know he’d collected Alice from Leeds and taken her with him and Belinda on a planned trip to the south of France. Conflicted feelings had battled for supremacy at the news—relief, of course, that Alice would be spending the first weeks of her summer break recovering in France, but a selfish envy too, that Belinda would be the one giving out motherly hugs and pep talks. She wasn’t in a place to offer Alice the same escape, but still it stung that someone else was. At least for them it was only a partof their bigger picture. For Kate, it was her entire canvas, mud-brown and battleship-gray paint slung in every direction, obscuring any of the brighter stuff she’d managed to build since the separation. The past weekend in Henley had felt like momentarily stepping into someone else’s shoes, and then this afternoon it was as if life had spotted her smiling and kicked her hard in the teeth.

Did she wish, on balance, that she’d never written that impulsive letter to Jojo? She’d said no when Charlie asked her that same question just yesterday, but now on this drizzly Sunday afternoon, she finally concluded that the answer was yes. She was exhausted. She didn’t want her personal story dragged out for public consumption all across the United States, or to be the topic of water-cooler conversation in Germany, or the hot gossip anywhere else the book found its way to over the course of this long, hot summer. She remembered one of the early meetings at the publishing house, when they’d likened the spread of the book to a tidal wave. No one had thought to mention that she might actually drown.

Rain splattered the window as she dumped her bags and lay down on the small sofa, cold and curled into herself. Gardeners around the country would be waving flags in relief, but for Kate the rain seemed more like a reflection of her mood. Cloudy with a fair chance of disaster. More chaos. More online debate, more hounding to find H, more anxiety for her family. Global interest, Charlie had said. Just the phrase had her screwing her eyes tighter, burying her face in the cushion until sleep came and rescued her for a while.

38

“You look tired,” Kate said,watching her sister straighten up and roll her shoulders after an afternoon bent over the sewing machine.

Liv had been working solidly for the last few weeks on a set of sixBridgerton-inspired bridesmaid gowns for a bridal party, dresses that would come back into the shop afterward to be used as hire-outs.

“This is the most intricate one of them all,” she said, lifting the finished sea-foam-green silk dress carefully from the machine. “Will you try it on for me? I need to check the seams.”

The other five gowns hung together on a rail behind Liv, each a different shade of muted silk, all empire-line bodices with chiffon cap sleeves, delicate embroidery, and jeweled adornments to individualize them.

Kate peered down the neck of her T-shirt to check which bra she’d put on that morning. “You’re in luck,” she said. “Push-up.”

“The dress should do everything for you anyway,” Liv said. “I tried the peach one on at home the other day—Nish thought all his birthdays had come at once.”

Kate laughed, stepping into the changing booth to get undressed in case any customers came in. “How did women ever get anything done when they had to dress like this all the time?” shesaid, stepping into the intricate dress and pulling the delicate-sleeved bodice carefully up her arms. Liv fastened the back, hoisting her up in all the right places, which pushed her cleavage up considerably higher than its usual place.

“Oh my God, look at my boobs,” Kate gasped, staring at herself in the mirror.

“I can’t look anywhere else,” Liv said, sweeping Kate’s hair up with a jeweled comb she’d ordered to accessorize the dress. “Come and stand on the stool so I can see it in the light.”

Liv propped the door open to let some cool air in as Kate stepped up onto the alterations stool in the middle of the shop.

“Let me just take some reference photos.” Liv circled slowly around, coming in close for detail. “Could you hold this for the pics?” She handed Kate a fan. “I’m going to send them over to the bride.”

Kate flicked the fan out and gave it a go in the stuffy shop. “I feel like someone should ask me if I’d like a cooling glass of lemonade,” she said, wafting herself.

“You could do with a randy lord,” Liv said.

Kate hadn’t told Liv anything about her deleted scene weekend with Charlie. They hadn’t seen each other since, communicating through messages and emails rather than calls. It wasn’t just Charlie’s choice; Kate had found herself fragile and jaded, badly in need of some space from the publishing industry in general and from Charlie specifically. The online piranha frenzy hadn’t abated; every time she clicked on her Kate Darrowby social media profiles she was swamped with a deluge of comments, questions, and demands to know who the actual author was. It had become so demoralizing, and so out of her control, that she’d started to avoid looking at all.

Kate fanned herself, preferring to stay in the here-and-now safety of her sister’s company. “I’m quite overcome by the heat,sister dearest,” she laughed. “I rather like all this, I think I was born in the wrong era.”

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