Page 50 of Troy Story
When she was done, Mort shook his head in dismay. “What a disaster. But I don’t understand. Why’d you take the blame?”
She shrugged. “It was easier that way. Clarissa’s here as a volunteer, and Emilia’s close to getting her doctorate. She can’t take any risks.”
“What about you? Aren’t you working on your doctorate, too?”
Dusty released a ragged breath. “I should be, but the more I try to muddle through it, the more I realize it’s not the path I want to follow. But try telling that to Dr. Louisa Danforth.”
Given Mort’s admiration for her mother, Dusty expected him to take her side. Instead, he nodded sagely. “I imagine it can’t be easy living in her shadow.”
“It’s impossible. If I don’t get my PhD, she’ll be so disappointed.”
“If I might offer a word of advice?”
She liked that he’d asked her first. Most guys his age would have just fired away. “Sure. Have at it.”
“I spent my whole life trying to live up to my father’s expectations. He was a successful businessman. Made millions. I did the same but neglected Clarissa in the process. You could say I gave her everything except my attention. But when I had a heart attack two years ago, I realized how foolish I’d been. Spending all this time trying to follow my father’s dreams instead of my own. That’s partly the reason I’m here, even if it’s too late to pursue a career in archaeology.”
His confession struck a chord with her. She loved that he hadn’t given up on his dream. “At least you’re trying. That’s a huge step.”
“Well, it helps if you have money. But when Clarissa told me she wanted to go into teaching instead of business, I supported her decision. I wanted her to do something she was passionate about, even if it wasn’t that lucrative. Perhaps that’s what you should do?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Any chance you could call my mother and tell her that?”
He chuckled. “I don’t think she’d appreciate it.” As he set his cup down, his eyes fell upon her recent sketches. “Mind if I have a look?”
“Sure, but those aren’t my illustrations for the site. They’re just my own drawings, but…um…go ahead.”
In between drawing artifacts, she’d slowly added to her collection of Trojan-themed pieces, including character sketches of all the Greek gods and goddesses who’d played a role inThe Iliad. Creating those images had brought her more joy than any of the research she’d done for her dissertation.
As he took his time perusing them, her shoulders tightened. Since her style was more cartoonish than Clarissa’s, he might consider her work inferior. When he set the pages down, she gnawed on her thumbnail, waiting for his verdict in nervous anticipation.
He gave her a broad smile. “Marvelous work. I didn’t realize you were so talented.”
Relief flooded through her. She didn’t know why his opinion mattered so much, but given the week she’d had, she could use a boost. “Thanks. I used to specialize in Egyptian characters, but I’m having fun withThe Iliad.”
“I feel like I owe you an apology. On that first night, when Stuart told us you were an illustrator, I started bragging about Clarissa’s accomplishments, completely undermining you.”
She could smile about it now, especially since she and Clarissa had grown closer in the past few weeks. “It’s fine. You have every right to be proud of her. She showed me the mockup for that picture book she illustrated—the one about the jungle. I wish I were half as good at drawing animals.”
“You’re still very gifted.”
“Thanks. I have examples in color, too. On my tablet.” She grabbed it and pulled up the file containing her artwork fromThe Iliad, detailed drawings where she’d taken the time to add shading, color, and elaborate backgrounds.
After he swiped through them, he stroked his chin. “These are splendid. I know you’ve got your hands full here, but would you be interested in illustrating children’s books?”
Would she? Her heart started pounding. She set down her coffee cup with shaky hands. “What did you have in mind?”
“My friend—the one who runs the children’s publishing firm in Boston—is looking for illustrators. Not for the picture books Clarissa is working on but for a different series. Are you familiar with theMagic Tree Housebooks?”
The name brought back a delightful memory. The first time she’d met Stuart, he’d been seven. Anxious about living in Egypt for the first time, he’d brought a backpack filled with his favorite books, including five from theMagic Tree Houseseries. Having never seen them before, she immediately fell in love with the concept of time travel via a tree house.
“Sure. Those books are great. I loved the one where they visited Pompeii.”
“My friend’s doing something like that, but for a younger age group. Picture books set in various time periods, like ancient Egypt, the Roman Empire, and the Middle Ages. Your drawings would be perfect. Do you have an agent?”
An agent? Hell, just creating her own Etsy site had been a big deal. She shook her head.
“That’s fine. Clarissa could refer you to hers, or she could help you find one. But in the meantime, I’d like to photograph a few of these pages and send them to my friend.”
