Page 114 of The Bookshop By the Loch

Maeve nodded hard. “That sounds a wonderful suggestion. What do you think, Mum?”

Celeste angled her wheelchair with the assistance of Tobias, so she could take another lingering look at the painting. “I think that would be lovely.”

“Then consider it having pride of place,” insisted Tobias.

There were contented smiles all around.

Celeste then swivelled her attention to me. “I know you’ve been very busy, Lexie, but I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to read more of my book?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve read it all. But there’s something I wanted to mention. You haven’t finished writing it.”

“Ah. Yes.” She adjusted the set of pearls nestling against her throat. “I did plan to discuss that little issue with you.”

I blinked at her, confused. “Why’s that?”

Her lined eyes shone with hope. “Because I’d be honoured if you were to finish writing it for me.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Isat, rigid, on the edge of the chair.

“Me? Why?”

“Because I understand you’re a very talented editor, Lexie. You wouldn’t have worked with the likes of Sir Stephen Todd and Dame Alicia Kilroy if you hadn’t been.”

I was aware of three expectant faces examining me.

Someone must have been discussing me with Celeste. Maeve’s cheeks brimmed with pink. There was the guilty party right there.

Celeste concentrated her gaze on me. “You’re doing a wonderful job with Book Ends, but editing is still your day job.”

“The bookshop is my day job now, although I do still keep my hand in with a bit of editorial freelancing.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Why don’t you say what you think, Celeste, instead of beating around the bush?”

She cocked one pale brow at me. “Somebody has to say it how it is.”

“Oh, there’s no fear of that not happening with you around, Mum,” groaned Maeve.

Celeste tipped her head to one side. Watery evening sunshine was sliding past her curtains. “Like I said, I’d like you to finish writing my book. As you can see, it isn’t complete and I’m not going to be able to do it. It would mean the world to me if you did.”

My throat dried up. “Now you’re using emotional blackmail?”

Celeste shrugged. “Whatever works.”

Tobias looked at Maeve and struggled not to laugh.

“I know you’d be able to finish the story beautifully and tie up all the loose ends.”

Bewilderment coursed through me. “But it’s your book. It’s your story. I don’t know how it should end. Why didn’t you complete it?”

Celeste clasped her frail hands together. “Because I didn’t know how it should end.” She gazed up at me from her wheelchair, with her puff of white hair and appealing eyes. “Write the epilogue you’d be happy with; that would make the reader sigh and smile with contentment.” Celeste was unrelenting as usual. “What do you think?”

My mouth kept falling open and shut. “But it wouldn’t be factually correct,” I persisted, floundering around for more excuses to use. “And it’s written in your voice.”

“Who cares? A lot of it is exaggerated anyway and as long as the ending is a happy one, that’s all that matters.”

I stood there, conflicted.

“Would you really deny a very ill woman?”