Page 49 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“Instigate what?” Violet asked. “There’s nothing going on between Jasper and me. So if you—”
“Of coursethere’s nothing going on.” Ambrose chuckled. “I have gotten to know Jasper fairly well in the past five years of our business dealings, which is exactly why I wish to instigate.”
Violet rested her hands on the table, dessert fork frozen between her fingers. She blinked. “Okay, so?”
“I imagine that you are losing steam. When I met you and sensed the tense atmosphere between you and Mr. Laurent, many things became evident to me all at once and I thought, ‘This isher.’ Our muse in the flesh and before my eyes.”
“You know… No offense, but, you’re saying a lot of things without really saying anything.”
Ambrose laughed, flashing his brilliant white teeth. “You are refreshingly astute. Apologies. I do have a flair for the dramatic.”
“It shows.”
He leaned with his elbows on the table, keeping his deep voice low. “May I divulge something of the utmost confidentiality? I feel that I can trust you…”
“Of course.”
“First, my name is René Janvier and I am an actor—hence my love of drama. Second, I work for Jasper because he hired me to represent him.”
“To represent him how?”
“In public. In interviews, panels and discussions, book signings, television appearances, and so on and so forth. I am Ambrose Marcello by face, but Jasper is Ambrose Marcello by pen.Heis the true writer of the books you so adore.”
Dropping her fork, Violet sat back, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. She repeated Ambrose’s… René’s words in her mind, turning them over, twisting them and examining them from multiple angles.
“You had no idea?” he asked.
“No. How—oh my gosh. I’ve literally been criticizing his work and fawning over you and his characters for almost two months.”
He waved his hand, dismissive. “Jasper is not motivated by ego. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. But I must tell you that I find there to be a beautiful irony in this. An author’s work unknowingly touches the very person he is inspired by.”
Massaging her forehead with her fingertips, Violet paused. “What?”
“Ah, now we have arrived at my true intention. Myinstigating. Jasper has won literary awards for his books—particularly with regard to the handling of his female characters.”
“He won the Lighthouse Award forA Tanzanite Sky… that was the first time they ever gave that award to a work of fiction. Olivia was such an amazingly complex character—I heard they’re in talks for a movie.”
“Yes.” René grinned. “And he won the Baudelaire Prize forThe Dagger of Leti de la Croix. He received both of those prestigious awards with critical acclaim for his female leads. I once asked Jasper what inspired him to create such dynamic characters—these larger-than-life women. He proceeded to tell me the most endearing story of his childhood friend. Hisbestfriend.
“He told me about her vibrant energy, and that she was like the sun, and that she was funny and brave. She climbed big trees he would never climb, and she listened and showed him infinite kindness. He told me that essentially, all of his characters are a reflection of her. Ofyou, Violet. And although I’ve been in your presence a very short time, I can easily see it.”
The light of the café shifted, a passing cloud briefly blocking out the bright sunrays. Violet sat in a daze as Simone came back to the table, the banter between her and René muffled and far from her awareness.
Why?The question floated in her mind like a small bubble in a vast black lake. A simple question surrounded by mystery. Hints and clues but no direct answers. She’d grown tired of feeling confused—of pushing up against a wall that wasn’t giving way.
But here she was, being pulled back in. Rose. The bouquet of violets. Now Ambrose. The signs were getting stronger and harder to ignore. But at the same time…
“The phone number to the shop is in the directory,” Simone said, “and business hours are between six and—”
“But what aboutafterbusiness hours?” René pleaded, blinking up at Simone with very dark lashes. “Dinner hours? You are obviously talented in the dessert arena, and I am very skilled in buying dinner. It could be a wonderful pairing?”
“I’ll have your cappuccino right out.” Simone shot Violet a look that said “Who is this and why did you bring him here?” before stalking off.
René moped, grumbling to himself. “I don’t think she likes me. Perhaps I’m misreading something? It is unfathomable that I have been led back to this village—”
“René, what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you mean?”
