Chapter 37
Charlie’s mobile rang as he turned the engine off outside the fancy-dress shop. “It’s Fiona,” he said, frowning. “She’s taking meetings in New York before she boards a cruise around the Caribbean, I better answer it.”
Kate turned her face toward the window as he stepped away from the car, watching the quiet street.
The drive home had been subdued, returning to reality with a jolt rather than a soft landing.
She’d felt bolstered by the thought that, however bad things got, they were in it together.
She didn’t feel that way anymore, because the reality was that however much the book had taken over her life, it hadn’t taken over Charlie’s.
He had other clients, and other pulls on his time and emotions.
His conversation with Fiona sounded heated, his tone reaching her even though she wasn’t attempting to listen.
If it concerned her, he’d share it with her.
Perhaps Fiona had heard the Hollywood scoop already; she seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.
Kate waited in the car until he’d ended the call, affording him some privacy.
“Sorry about that.” He opened her door, weary concern all over his face.
“Everything okay?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Depends how you look at things.” He paused. “Fiona has sold the rights to the book in the U.S.”
“What will that mean for me?” She frowned, getting out of the car.
“It means the book will be published in the U.S. soon, very soon actually, in order to ride the current wave of interest here.”
“Will it be published with my name on it and my photo and everything?”
“The success here has caused a ripple effect,” he said, not directly answering the question.
“Can I opt out of all this?”
She stared at him, and he didn’t look away. “I don’t think you can, Kate. It’s in the contract.”
They stood face-to-face in the street, feeling a million miles away from the closeness they’d shared together. It felt more like a page torn out and screwed up than a deleted scene.
“But people know now, it’s not the same anymore,” she said. “How can they publish it as it is when everyone knows that Kate Darrowby doesn’t exist?”
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 around The Power of Love here 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 happening here 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 part of 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.