“She sounds delightful. Does she wear overalls?”
“No. Cotton. Ever hear of it?”
“It used to grow right up to my back door, remember?”
Brad didn’t answer her but sat down to put on his shoes and socks.
Katlyn put out her cigarette, then stretched across the bed in what she knew was an alluring pose. “I do hope you aren’t going to tell me that you’re never going to see me again.”
“Last week I would have said that I was going to send you a note to say that it was over.”
She sat up. “This is beginning to sound interesting. You aren’t going to tell me that this paragon of virtue has turned you down, are you?”
“Not yet.”
“Is there another man? A Camden maybe?”
“He’s not from Arundel.”
This so startled Katlyn that she couldn’t say anything.
Standing, Brad adjusted his pant cuffs, then looked at her. “I thought she and I were…” He grimaced. “Actually, I thought we were a done deal. I guess I was like the old maid who goes on a first date then picks out her wedding china.”
“She didn’t call you back?”
“Yes, she did.” He took a breath. “We spent quite a bit of time together, and I thought there was nothing between her and the
other man. I thought she didn’t like him in that way, but I saw them laughing together.”
“Ah,” Katlyn said. She could understand that. She’d shared a few laughs with Brad, but none with her husband. “You think she’s going to choose the other man?” she asked softly.
“Maybe. I don’t think she knows what she wants. Right now, I think Ms. Eden Palmer could go either way.”
“Palmer?” Katlyn said. She would have frowned if her forehead weren’t so full of chemicals. “Eden Palmer. Where have I heard that name before?”
“Weren’t you living in Arundel when she was? Or are you now too young to remember her?”
“My last surgeon says I now look young enough to be my own daughter,” Katlyn said distractedly, then her face lit up. “The book!”
“Book? Yes, Eden was an editor here in New York for a while, and—”
Katlyn jumped off the bed, paying no attention to the fact that she was naked. She spent enough hours with a personal trainer to know she looked good with nothing on. She opened a little French cabinet and pulled out a paperback book with a plain blue cover. To Die For, the title read, by Eden Palmer.
“I didn’t know Eden had written a book,” he said, taking it and flipping through the pages. “When did it come out?”
“It hasn’t yet,” she said as she put on a silk robe. “It’s an advance copy. Charley has things sent to me, and he asks my opinion sometimes, you know, for his movie studio.” She shrugged, as though embarrassed by this confidence. “Anyway, this was sent to me. It’s good. I told Charley the story had great potential.”
“I had no idea you were a major force in the movie industry,” he said, teasing her, and she looked as though she might blush. “What’s it about?”
“Generations of a family in an old house,” she said. “She takes them from the time they settled in America in the 1600s to the present. It’s an old theme, but she does it well. There’s a story of a duchess escaping the French Revolution and a—”
“Sapphire necklace,” Brad said quietly.
“Yeah, right. A real whopper of a thing that leads to murder and lots of feuds.”
Brad sat down on a chair and said, “I want you to tell me everything that’s in the book.”
“You can read it. It—”