Page 21 of Maple Sugar Mix-Up
And so, I found myself in a beautiful kitchen, eating with Ashton and his daughter and the nanny. The house may have been humble, but I could see the cost built into the amazing chef’s kitchen and the appliances.
When we were done, we headed back to the book room where Ashton showed me the printing error – the newest book had an entire second of pages that were horribly crooked, words cut off and everything. I joked that I was tempted to try and read it anyway. To my delight, he brought me a copy from an earlier print run and insisted I take it.
“I can’t believe I’m sitting with my favorite author,” I laughed. “Grandma Sophia was so proud when she heard your Nana was published.”
A wide grin spread across his face. “I’m so glad.” There was something faraway about his expression, almost wistful.
My eyes wandered around the room and I looked at one of the old manuscripts again. “I’m surprised she wrote for so long before publishing them,” I said.
“Actually…” Ashton smiled again. “I did it.”
“You did what?”
“She shopped them around to some publishers, well before I was born, and they were all rejected and it hurt her,” he said sadly. “She actually stopped writing for years. My mother found some unfinished books – Nana had a lot of those – and they decided to finish them together. It got her back into writing, but she never wanted the heartbreak of rejection again. But, she still said she dreamed of being published.” Ashton paused and smiled sadly. “When I was old enough, I started pitching ideas too. By then, they had both co-written a bunch of new ones. They brought me in and we wrote seven together – all three of us.”
“That’s awesome,” I said. “How fun.”
He nodded. “Well, she wasn’t terrible tech-savvy and one day I heard about self-publishing and ebooks and stuff. I looked into it and discovered that I could just… turn her book into a real book myself. I did it for a birthday present.” His voice hitched for a moment. “It ended up being her last birthday…”
“I’m sorry.”
Ashton flashed me a grateful smile. “It’s okay. Anyway, I got it edited and found someone to do a professional looking cover and I turned it into a paperback for her. Oh, the look on her face…” He trailed off, smiling fondly at the memory. “She was so happy, that she wanted me to do it for one that she wrote with me. And then one my mother did too. By the time she… by the time she started to get sick, we had published five of them. The thing is, I didn’t know much about what I was doing either. I didn’t realize it, but I had made ebooks available for sale.”
“Oh no.” Since he was laughing, I chuckled too.
“And suddenly… after the fifth one was published, they just… took off. One day I checked my bank account and found a huge deposit from the company I had printed them with. I never logged in except to publish a new one so…” He shrugged and chuckled. “I went in and they had all these fancy ranks and best-selling flags and dozens upon dozens of reviews! Even people begging for more!”
“That’s wild,” I said.
“Nana saw the success, so before she passed she left them and the rights to me. And told me she wanted me to publish them, so that she knew I’d be taken care of. Sort of like her last gift to me.”
“How sweet. You really can have the manuscripts. They’re yours.”
“I appreciate it. I would a least love to look at them. How many do you have?”
“Three and two more that are um…” I cleared my throat. “Unfinished.”
He nodded and then his eyes widened. “Arethosethe ones you mentioned earlier? The ones you wrote endings to?!”
“No!” I said quickly. Too quickly.
“They are! Oh, I’d love to read them.”
I shook my head. “No way, they’re terrible.”
“I’d still like to read them.”
“I’ll give you the parts your grandmother wrote, but my abysmal work stays locked in a drawer.”
Ashton laughed. “If you say so.”
I had a feeling he wouldn’t let it go so easily.
Just like the date, time seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, I had been invited for dinner. When it was over, Ashton excused himself to help put sweet Vicki – named for her great-grandmother, I discovered – to bed while I helped Beth with the dishes, eager to do something to pitch in.
We talked about pretty much everything except our status. We were going to give dating a try? I didn’t know, but I doubted I’d be invited to spend the night. Regardless, I did offer to help him get ready for bed. It was silly, but I sort of blamed myself for his broken ankle. And, while he was acting tough, I could tell that the stronger medicine from the hospital was wearing off and he was in pain. My hunch was confirmed when he accepted.
We headed up to his room, taking the stairs carefully, with one hand clutching the railing and his other draped over my shoulder. I let him use the bathroom while I retrieved his crutches, then went after him. I found him searching a cupboard and cursing.
