Page 81 of The Story Between Us

“Something happened today.” She told her aunt about the email. The girl who’d felt seen. The request to be her agent. The response she’d sent, offering help she wasn’t sure she had the right to offer.

Lila listened without interrupting, brush moving steadily.

When Livvie finished, her aunt set down the brush and turned to face her.

“You’re so good with people,” she said. “Have you ever thought about being an agent?”

Livvie shook her head immediately. “No. I’m not—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a shark.” The word tasted bitter. “My parents always said you have to be aggressive to succeed. Cutthroat. That’s what it takes. And I’m just…not that. I never have been.”

Lila was quiet for a long moment. Outside the window, the last light was fading from the lake, turning the water from gold to silver to deep blue.

“My agent,” she said finally, “was one of the kindest people I ever knew.”

Livvie looked up.

“Her name was Margaret. She found me at a conference when I was twenty-six—I’d just had my third rejection, I was ready to quit, and she walked up to my table and said, ‘I see what you’re trying to do. Let me help.’” Lila smiled at the memory. “She wasn’t a shark. She never yelled at editors or played hardball with contracts. She just…saw people. Saw what they were trying to create and helped them get there.”

“What happened to her?”

“She retired. Twelve years ago.” Lila’s voice was soft. “That’s when she handed me over to the agent I used to share with Nate. But I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to write without her. She’d been such a big part of my creative life—every book, every revision, every moment of doubt, she was there. And without her…”

She trailed off. In the silence, Livvie heard her own heartbeat.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted,” Lila said quietly. “That’s what Margaret used to say. Psalm thirty-four. She’d tell me that whenever I was struggling, whenever the work felt impossible. ‘He’s close right now. Closer than you know.’”

Livvie’s eyes stung.

“I didn’t believe her at first,” Lila continued. “After your mother died, I was so angry. At God, at the world. But Margaret was right. God was there. In the grief, in the healing, in the slow return of the desire to make beautiful things. He was there the whole time.”

She reached out and took Livvie’s hand.

“We need people in our lives who leave an impact. People who help us become who we’re meant to be. That’s what Margaret did for me. What your mom did for me. And from what you’ve told me, that’s what you’re doing for that young writer. And especially for Nate.” A pause. “It’s not about being a shark, sweetheart. It’s about seeing people. Really seeing them. And helping them find their voice.”

Livvie couldn’t speak. Her eyes burned, tears pressing against her eyes.

“You not only could do that,” Lila said. “You already are.”

The thought landed in her chest and took root.

She looked out the window, toward Nate’s cottage. Through the trees, the light from his window burned, a warm glow in the gathering dark. He was still in there. Still writing. Still facing the grief he’d been running from for three years.

Maybe it wasn’t about getting him to turn in pages. It was about him journeying through the story. Not just the story he was writing but the one he was also living. “Lila?”

“Yes?”

“How did you start again? After Mom died. How did you find your way back?”

Her aunt turned quiet for a moment, looking at her own painting. The rabbits, the autumn leaves, the world she’d created out of nothing.

“I remembered why I started in the first place,” she said. “Not for the money or the recognition or the career. I started because I loved making beautiful things. Because stories matter. Because somewhere, a child would hold a book I’d illustrated and feel less alone in the world.” She smiled. “I had to remember that I was writing for the children who needed the stories as much as I needed to tell them.”

Livvie thought about Emma and the stories she’d left behind, and the children who still needed them.

And she thought about the Storybook Corner—the dragon with the knowing eyes, the egg about to hatch, the forest full of hidden wonders. Emma’s dream, coming to life under Livvie’s hands.