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“Who do you think publishes all those bloody photography books of his?”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but Whitby Press did. “He’s talented.”
“Not that talented.”
“They must make money, or they wouldn’t do it.”
“Right.” She shook her head.
“Are you saying they lose money on my father’s books? I’m sure someone would’ve said so in one of the board meetings.”
She shook her head a second time. “They have plenty of other books that make up for it, I’m sure. Could you imagine, Kenz? ‘Oh, by the way, Miss Whitby, so glad you could join us today so we could talk to you about how long your father’s books have been bleeding us dry.’ Seriously, what do you think?”
I didn’t know what to think, but I certainly planned to look into it.
“Besides, you read more than anyone I know. Anyone I’ve ever known.”
I would confess to being a voracious reader. Always had been. As an only child, it gave me something to do. Plus, Gran Bea always had a book going. “I do enjoy reading very much.”
“See? Call them tomorrow. Now, what are your other ideas?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said ‘some ideas.’ What are the others?”
“The others weren’t for jobs per se.”
“So?”
“I’ve been thinking of getting more involved in some charities. I was so moved by the visit to the hospital in Madrid Christmas night, weren’t you?”
Teagon smiled but didn’t comment.
“What now?”
“I’m proud of you, Kenz. You’re a grown-up.”
“Sod off.”
“Don’t take offense. I’m serious.”
“That until now I’ve been a child?”
“That until now you hadn’t found your way.”
“That’s what Gran Bea used to say.”
Teagon shrugged. “Great minds and all that.”
“More wine?” Maybe I could share after all.
“Nah, better not. I need to go out and give the guys the new schedule.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, Kenz. You really didn’t think that it was you, Casper, and me all alone since we’ve been here. Z added to your detail shortly after we arrived back in London.”
“Who else is here?”
