I Will Always Love You

by Kathryn Shay

  “I live abroad.”

  “All right. I can work with that for now.”

  “Forever. I need it put in the contract that I won’t be pressured for more information or we’ll leave and this time we won’t be back.”

  Raven, wiser in the ways of the world, added, “And that you won’t have us investigated.”

  His father would probably be furious with him, but he accepted. “Now, what will you concede to?”

  “Since I’ll have eight months to write the next book, we’ll do the last in six months and the trilogy will be completed.”

  Ryder saw it more as a continuity. “I’ll want right of first refusal on the fourth one.”

  “What does that mean?” Alexandra asked. She hadn’t researched contractual terminology.

  “That Reynolds Publishing can make you an offer first on any books in this series after these three.” This from Emma.

  “I can live with that. In addition to not having to stay with a publisher you don’t like, you also don’t have to write more books for them.”

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t you want to write more books?” Ryder was genuinely confused. Most writers he worked with had hundreds of ideas in their heads.

  “I never even considered three. But Emma told me you wanted a multi-book deal and I wouldn’t be able to sell a single title.”

  “No one wants a one-book deal. Publishers invest in the careers of their authors. Plus, you have security in your future no matter how the book sells.”

  “You don’t think it will sell?”

  “It’s my job to make sure it does. Publicity will have to be written into the contract. But I have some ideas.” He turned the tablet around. “Here are some.”

  With Emma on one side and Raven on the other, Alexandra read his notes:

  Promotion Campaign

  Pre-publication: appearances on TV entertainment/news shows. (Today, Kimmel, Ellen if possible.)

  Social media blitz. Traditional sites.

  Book tours after release.

  More appearances.

  “These seem fine.” Lexy took a tablet of her own out of her bag. “And here are mine. For pre-publication.” She smiled at him. “To take the sting out of no background.”

  Hers read: using dolls/stuffed animals of the main characters to film a podcast to introduce the story:

  PC#1 Who is Pickles? Where does she live? Who is the Princess?

  PC#2 Introduction to each of the other characters: Tater, Mr. String Bean, Miss Lovely Lettuce.

  PC#3 Reading an excerpt from the first book.

  Then she shocked him by taking out four little dolls from the bag. Each of the characters were re-creations of the illustrations of those in the story.

  Emma said, “I wish you’d told me about this, Alexandra.”

  Raven arched a brow. “Who made the dolls? They’re perfect, by the way.”

  Ryder hoped his mouth didn’t drop open. He said only, “Wow!”

  Chapter 2

  “I love having all of us together again.” Gabriella, the only blond in the family, leaned against the counter in her kitchen in Baltimore, smiling at her sisters and mother. “Was your train ride from New York tolerable, Mamá?”

  Mamá wore a cashmere sweater and pants in emerald green, an outfit she’d gotten shopping at Saks. “The trip was delightful. I had two and a half uninterrupted hours with my children.”

  Raven smiled. Lexy knew she was glad to see her family, though, of all of them, she was the least social. “I think she means she was glad to have me corralled. She and Lexy do stuff together all the time.”

  Flipping back her long dark braid, Calla eased her son over her shoulder and turned to her sister. “What about you? Didn’t you enjoy your time with Mamá and Lexy?” The oldest Gentileschi daughter had a way of setting them all straight.

  Raven nodded. “You know I did. Right, Mamá?”

  “Yes, mi figlia. I do.”

  Evangelina couldn’t seem to take her gaze from Calla’s six- week-old child. She was a sucker for kids. Apparently, she didn’t get enough of them in her work as a neonatal nurse. “He’s so beautiful, Calla. Will you have more?”

  “Of course. More of each.”

  “Each?”

  “Boys and girls. We love being parents.”

  “As did Papá and I.”

  “I’m happy for you, Sis.” Raven graced her sister with a rare, loving smile. “You have everything you ever wanted.”

  Evvie’s dark curls bounced down her back and over her breasts when she reached out to take the baby from Calla. “Razi’s a prince. What would a girl be, technically? Like her rank?”

  “A Lady.”

  “Aw. How sweet.”

  Francesca turned their attention to Lexy. “What’s the scoop on Ryder Reynolds?” Frankie was good at interrogation and had come right from a law enforcement job, so she wore a suit and her hair was tucked up in a bun.

  Evvie’s eyes lit. “Is he the hunk the Internet says he is?”

  Raven popped a grape into her mouth. “If you like that type.”

  “Type?” This from Mariela.

  “A suit.”

  Mari wouldn’t know the reference because at twenty-three, she was even more innocent than Lexy.

  “He’s top management. A businessman,” Raven explained. “Though I read he has a checkered past.”

  “Before you ask,” Frankie put in, “that means he was a player at one time. He’s the youngest of the family, and the only one to go into the publishing business, though not until he was in his late twenties.”

  “I thought he was nice.” This from Lexy. “He liked our ideas about Pickles.”

  “Did you sign the contract?” Evvie again.

  “Not yet. Emma Wilder is negotiating the fine points. I’ll get a version in a day or so, then our lawyers will analyze it. Emma cares about the money.”

  “Honey,” Frankie quipped, “everybody cares about money except us.”

  “That’s because we have trust funds from Mamá’s parents.” Mari seemed to value security more than any of them.

  “You have royal money, too.” Their mother, Renata, spoke with the dignity of a queen. “I put it in all your accounts when Callandra left Casarina.”

  “Speaking of which,” Frankie said again, turning to Lexy. “You kept our secret, right?”

  “Yes, of course. The Reynolds will never know I’m a Gentileschi. I don’t want to succeed on our status. Raven feels that way, too.”

  “I couldn’t be a cop if everybody knew I was a princess.” Frankie used the Marcello name as well.

  “Mamá, does it bother you that they’re not using Gentileschi?” Brie asked.

  “No, they use my name, which we made legal for you when each of you was born. Going by Marcello is perfectly fine. And fun for me.”

  “Not Papá, I’ll bet.” The doubt came from Raven.

  Mamá watched her daughter carefully. “He’s changed, Ravenna.”

  Raven had told Lexy that she didn’t trust Papa. She didn’t believe his sudden turnaround was permanent. The change in him had come after the man he chose for Calla beat her up. Lexy was glad her sister didn’t reveal more of her misgivings to Mamá, though.

  In a dreamy voice, Evvie asked, “What color are his eyes?”

  “Who?” Mari asked.

  “Ryder.”

  “A striking blue.” This from Lexy.

  “They’re more slate, with black around the pupils. They’re beautiful, but different from Brie’s. Hers are the color of the Caribbean Sea.” Raven often spoke in artistic terms, as painting was her profession.

  “From the pictures I saw on the Internet, he’s got great shoulders,” Renata put in.

  “Mamá!” came from all their mouths at once.

  “I’m married, girls, not dead. Mr. Reynolds is a very attractive man. Which makes me uneasy.”

  Mari, seated next to her, squeezed her mother’s hand. “Why?”

&n
bsp; “I’m afraid he’ll try to charm Alexandra.”

  “Into what?”

  “I don’t know. His bed maybe.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” This from Lexy.

  Frankie put in, “Never ever get involved with someone you work with.”

  “I second that.” Raven’s tone was adamant.

  “Well, with someone who has power over you.” This from Brie. “Lots of teachers marry other teachers who work at the same school. Hell, I dated one.” The light faded in Brie’s eyes.

  Lexy knew she must be thinking about the man she’d started to trust last spring, her next-door neighbor and colleague. Because he was being blackmailed, he’d betrayed Brie by playing a part in her kidnapping.

  “Does it still hurt?” Calla asked sipping her coffee. “What happened to you because of me?”

  “It wasn’t your fault! And anyway, I’m a lot better. It’s been several months since all that happened. I get anxious sometimes, and have nightmares. I’m seeing a therapist, like you all suggested. She’s helping.” Brie motioned to the stove. “Now, call Lilliana.” Mari’s five-year-old daughter had gone to Brie’s room to watch some TV. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s only talk about fun things.”

  Lexy said, mostly to tease them, “Ryder Reynolds might be fun.”

  “That,” Frankie commented, “would be a problem.”

  * * *

  Francesca lazed back on the bed in one of Brie’s spare rooms. Everyone stayed overnight, and they had to share accommodations. Evvie insisted on being with Calla and the baby, Mari bunked with Raven on the pullout couch. And Mamá, queen that she was, claimed her own room, then invited Lilliana to sleep with her.

  Now, at bedtime, Frankie studied Lexy, who sat in front of the vanity and unpinned the bun she’d worn today. Her heavy locks fell down to her waist. “Your hair is so pretty, Lex. You shouldn’t pull it back.”

  Lexy snagged her gaze in the mirror. “You do.”

  “Yeah, but I have to. Long hair would get in the way of wrestling the bad guys to the ground.”

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “That’s what you do?”

  “Sometimes.” She’d been careful not to lie to her family about her job. What she left out was a different story. “But we’re talking about your job.”

  “I’ve never had a job before, except for the volunteering Papá let me do.” She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “I’ve treated writing as a...hobby, I guess.”

  “So why wear the hair up?”

  “Because my outlook’s changing. I want to be taken seriously, and long hair is too feminine.”

  “You’re mouthing a pretty big stereotype, kiddo.”

  “I guess.” Rising like the graceful woman she was, wearing a shimmery peach nightgown, Lexy crossed the room and dropped down on the bed.

  Trying not to feel inferior because she’d put on p.j. bottoms and a T-shirt emblazoned by the Baltimore Angels, Frankie smiled. “So, you’re happy about publishing your book?”

  “I am. The whole process is frightening in a way, though. That probably doesn’t make sense to you since you have to be so brave every day, but I’ve never done anything big like this before.”

  “Because Papá made you stay in Casarina after what happened with Calla.”

  “Even growing up. Though I did have a few wild times with Santino Luca.”

  “I remember. You asked us about birth control.”

  “And so you all came to my room to tell me the facts of life.”

  “No, the facts of lovemaking. Mamá explained the mechanics.”

  Lexy reached out and squeezed Frankie’s hand. “Have any lovemaking in your life, Sis?”

  I did. Lou Bacardi had been her lover for two years. The fact that he was married finally caught up with them. Of course, she kept that from her family.

  “Frankie, what are you thinking?”

  “That there’s not much lovemaking these days. Some casual sex is all.” She honed in on Lexy. “Remember, no casual sex with Mr. Hunk of a Publisher for you.”

  “Don’t start. You’re only saying that because Mamá mentioned it.”

  “In part. But your eyes sparkle when you talk about him.”

  “Is Francesca the sister having this conversation? Or Frankie the cop?”

  “All right. I’ll stop interrogating you. Besides, I have a favor to ask. Since you’re staying with Brie for a few days, keep an eye on her. Let me know how she’s really doing.”

  “All right. I planned to watch her anyway. I’m not that young or inexperienced, Frankie.”

  “Hell, girl, you’re a babe in the woods.”

  * * *

  Ryder sat across from one of the three women he loved most in the world: his oldest sister Millicent Reynolds Nguyen. She’d taken the last name of her wife when their daughter was born. Standing by a small bar, Millie folded her arms across her chest. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  “Yeah. Have one with me?”

  “Hmm. Martinis.” She began to assemble the cocktails. He glanced at his watch. Ten p.m. “Annie asleep?”

  “Uh-huh. By ten is the rule, though twelve-year-olds balk at what she calls a kid’s bedtime. Lisa went too, so that helped.”

  “How’s Lisa?”

  “Good as ever.” A sweet smile over her shoulder. “We’re still happy as clams.”

  They hadn’t always been. Their father didn’t react well to Millie coming out, getting married and having a child, which made a family of three females. He’d said some unforgivable things, the worst of it was that he didn’t want to associate with fucking fags. Taking him up on that, Millie hadn’t spoken to him in years.

  When she finished mixing the drinks, she handed him a glass. “Anything to celebrate?” He liked that his sisters didn’t think something was wrong every time they got together. Though in the past, he’d given all of them cause to worry.

  “We’re signing a new author. We spent hours on the negotiation with her agent last week, but I think the contract’s a go.”

  She peered over at him with eyes like his own. “Will this help your plans for the future?”

  “It should.”

  “You’ve done well in the business, Ry.”

  “I’d probably do better if Richard didn’t keep changing my genre. But the thrillers and horror novels I edited for five years did well enough. The switch to children’s lit was a big one.” He smiled at her and at the thought. “Now I’m after a New York Times bestseller.”

  “Will you get one?”

  “I have a good feeling about this book.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “And I have to say, I like working with children’s book authors.”

  “When you open your bookstore, you can feature kiddie literature. If he gives you the shares in the company that Grandpa left you.”

  His sisters had forfeited their inheritance by not working in the company their grandfather had left them. Ryder had, too, by going to Wall Street for five years. But he’d lost everything in the market crash and had nowhere to go except to his father.

  “He’s legally bound to give the shares to me if I do a satisfactory job with this last genre. I’ll get my inheritance and I can use the stock for collateral for a loan, or sell them off and finance the store.”

  “I don’t trust him. He could keep them from you so you’ll stay with him.”

  “I’m not staying at Reynolds House, Millie.”

  “I can’t imagine a life under that man’s thumb.”

  “Which is why you went your own way. How is your business doing? I meant to ask sooner.”

  “Great. We’re expanding.” She went on to tell him about the online crowdfunding company she and Lisa had started years ago.

  “I’m so glad you’re flourishing.”

  She tossed back her chin-length blond hair. “So, tell me more about your client.”

  “Her name is Alexandra Marcello. She’s from out of the country but won’t divulge her background.”

  “
Unusual for a writer.”

  “Not exactly. Salinger, Cormac McCarthy and Faulkner kept out of the limelight.”

  “I guess. Have you worked something out with her? You have to give some details on her background.”

  “That and more. And we got a lot of what we wanted though Emma Wilder, her agent, demanded more money and the author herself insisted on the background thing. I don’t mind compromising on either of those, but I wanted the ancillary rights.”

  “Like film and foreign translations?”

  “We got those. But we can’t create stuffed animals of the characters. To her credit, she made some dolls herself to use in the podcasts—which do belong to us.”

  Millie curled her legs up under her on the teal couch. “What’s Alexandra like?”

  “She’s a dark-haired beauty with coal-like eyes. I’d guess she’s Italian from her features, but she could be Greek. I know she’s European.”

  Millie sipped then smiled. “You’re waxing pretty poetic there, young man.”

  “Everybody’s going to react like me. She’s that kind of person. She’s agreed to do appearances and book tours. Fans will love her.”

  “She sounds pretty special.”

  “I hope so. She’s my ticket out of working for Richard.”

  “We all want that for you, buddy.”

  Ryder loved the support he got from his sisters, was grateful for it. Now, he just needed to succeed with the mysterious Alexandra Marcello.

  Chapter 3

  “That’s the last signature, Alexandra.” This from the patriarch of the firm. “Welcome to Reynolds Publishing.”

  Alexandra held out her hand. “Thank you for this opportunity, Richard.”

  Her agent rolled her eyes. She’d told Lexy not to be obsequious, but good manners had been bred into her. Emma threw back her chair. “I have a plane to catch.” Ryder and Richard both shook her hand, and Emma turned to Lexy. “Don’t let them talk you into adding an addendum to that document at dinner.” She motioned to the papers on the table.