The Color of Love (25 page)

“Thanks.” Emily took the package
automatically, not listening to his well-practiced rundown of what she could
find inside the bag. Her thoughts were filled with Derian. She turned away to
make room for the next person and made her way back to Derian. She didn’t see
her at first and her heart leapt anxiously.
Don’t
be silly, she’s got a cell phone. She’s not going to get lost. All you have to
do is call her.

Emily reached for the phone and then she saw
her, leaning back against a pillar, her registration bag dangling from one
hand, observing the crowd around her, a calm steady presence amidst the noisy
jostling masses. A sensation of relief and something far greater settled into the
center of Emily’s chest. Derian turned her head, and despite the dozens of
people still milling back and forth between them, looked directly at her. Their
gazes caught, and Emily recognized the tide rising within her. Oh no, how had
this happened? Shouldn’t she have known, shouldn’t she have recognized it far
before this? She loved everything about Derian Winfield, everything Derian made
her feel, everything Derian made her dream. Everything Derian made her desire.
All because she was falling in love with Derian Winfield.

Derian’s gaze pulled her through the crowd as
if she’d reached out and taken her hand. Emily made her way to her, the sea of
faceless people parting under the strength of their invisible connection.

“All set?” Emily tried for a casual tone she
was far from feeling.

“Perfect.”

Derian’s hand was on her back again, a
familiar movement Emily realized she’d come to love, like all of Derian’s other
little casual touches that to her felt possessive and incredibly intimate. Oh,
this was so, so not good. And yet so exactly what she wanted.

“Lead on, Tour Guide,” Derian said teasingly.

“Right.” Emily gathered her wits. “Right. We
need to be—hold on”—she dragged out the thick program guide and searched the
index—“third floor, section A-1028.” She dropped the book back into her bag and
checked her watch. “We’ll have half an hour before they open the doors to the
general attendees. Come on, we’ve got a lot to do.”

“We do?”

“Yep.” Emily grinned. “We get first crack at
all the swag. Let’s go.”

“Swag?” Derian kept pace with Emily’s
unerring twisting, dodging path through the crowds. She was clearly an expert
at this. Only half joking, she said, “Don’t leave me.”

Emily laughed and glanced over her shoulder,
jumping onto the escalator to the next level. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

At the top, they stepped off into an enormous
space filled with aisle upon aisle of booths and books. Books everywhere—piled
on tables, stacked on the floor, shelved behind counters, and overflowing from
open cartons. There must have been five hundred booths and five hundred
thousand books. The aisles were still relatively clear of people, with only
handfuls scurrying up and down doing final setup. Big signs hung above the
aisles with white letters and numbers like street signs. Derian’s chest
tightened as she took in the foreign space and struggled to make sense of it.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to take me wherever we need to go. You can
just leave me there while you do…whatever.”

“Absolutely not.” Emily took her hand.
“You’ll be fine. Just stay with me.”

“Try getting rid of me,” Derian said.

“Besides, you’re elected to do the carrying.
Here.”

“Uh…” Derian stared at the shiny multicolored
bag with the cartoon image Emily handed her. “You want me to walk around
carrying a bag with Captain Underpants on it?”

Emily laughed. “Those are in incredible
demand and will be gone in half an hour. Whatever you do, don’t put it down
anywhere.” As she spoke, she was dropping books into it.

“Are we stealing these?” Derian asked.

“No,” Emily said, handing her another bag,
this one thankfully unadorned except for a publisher’s logo. “These are all
advance reading copies. They’re free.”

“Why?” Derian grabbed a handful of Hershey’s
Kisses from a bowl on a counter in front of a booth displaying computers
running some kind of cataloging software.

“Marketing.” Emily smiled and accepted a
catalog from a book rep as they passed by the next booth. “Librarians and
booksellers are the largest segments of attendees. They’ll be looking for new
titles to order in the upcoming year. Most of these booths are publishers,
promoting their forthcoming catalogs. There’ll be a row of printers—not as many
as there used to be, now that everything has gone digital—and companies selling
software to handle metadata and royalties and whatnot.”

“Okay, I need a crash course, that’s pretty
clear,” Derian muttered. “But first I’m gonna need more coffee.”

Laughing, looking young and happy and
energized, Emily nodded. “We’ll have plenty of breaks between appointments.
We’ve got three days to get you properly initiated.”

“I’m sorry I’m not going to be much help.”
Derian grimaced and glanced around, realizing she had no idea which direction
they’d come from or how to get back there. “And I’m something of a liability on
top of that.”

“You absolutely are not,” Emily said
fiercely. “Don’t ever say that again.”

The force of her words washed over Derian
like a flurry of kisses. Her belly warmed and she had to remind herself about
her promise of business only for the rest of the day. “I like it when you
champion me. You make me feel special.”

“You are,” Emily said, still in battle mode.
“And you are not the first person to feel lost in this place. I’m just used to
it.”

“I’m okay,” Derian said, realizing she was.
She’d find Emily if they got separated. One way or the other, she’d find her
again. Emily kept her centered. “Come on, we’ve only got fifteen minutes left
and there must be a few thousand more books you need to get.”

“At least.”

“Wait—what about those comics.” Derian
pointed to a kiosk. “Can we get them?”

“Of course. Any preference?”

“Superheroes are always good. And paranormal.
I don’t suppose there’d be any Patricia Briggs?”

Emily grabbed copies and dropped them into
Derian’s bag. “There might be some of Briggs’s graphic novels over at
Dynamite.”

As she spoke, Emily scanned the huge signs
and kiosks and posters. “I think they’re down this way.” She grabbed Derian’s
hand and tugged her in that direction. “Briggs is signing this afternoon, so
they might not have anything available yet.”

At nine o’clock, a voice over the PA system
announced the doors would be opening momentarily.

“That’s our cue,” Emily said. “We should grab
some coffee, find our table, and get out of the way of the hordes.”

Derian shifted the bags into a more
comfortable position on her shoulder. She figured Emily was exaggerating, but
she was wrong. A minute later a tsunami of people poured off the escalators,
flooding the aisles, rushing everywhere, filling bags with books and pens and
bookmarks and free promotional items. “This place is a madhouse.”

Emily laughed, clearly delighted. “And
everyone thinks book people are stodgy. You don’t want to get in the way of
someone trying to get an advance copy of their favorite author in this place.
You’re likely to get run down.”

“All we need are the hot-dog vendors and the
carnival will be complete,” Derian said.

“Oh, they’ll be at the far back of the room.
And I like hot dogs, so you can get me one later.”

Derian smiled. “My pleasure.”

And it was. Being with Emily gave her the inexplicable
desire to hunt and gather and take care of her. Emily might not need her to do
any of those things, but Derian planned on doing whatever she could to be sure
Emily’s future was secure.

*

Derian made it to the hospital a few minutes
before visiting hours ended, rapped on the partially open door, and walked into
Henrietta’s room. HW was the only patient in there and was sitting up in bed
with the newspaper spread out on the bedside stand in front of her. Some of her
color had returned, but she looked thinner and, for the first time, older. Her
fragility sent fear through Derian’s chest. “Sorry it’s so late, but I just
wanted to stop by and make sure you weren’t driving the nurses crazy.”

“I’ve been behaving but they still won’t let
me have my computer.”

“Good.”

Henrietta set the paper aside. “How did the
appointments go?”

“Emily was happy. She seemed to think several
of the deals were strong ones.”

“What did you think of the process?”

“It was a lot like a card game, not quite as
interesting but—I could see the appeal.”

Henrietta laughed. “You’re right—a good
negotiation is always a bit of a game.”

Derian paused, noting an extra IV pole. “Is
it my imagination, or is there more equipment in here today than yesterday?”

“Oh, just some extra medication they added.”

“Why?”

“Nothing serious, just a little blood clot.
The medicine will take care of it.”

Derian grew very still. “Blood clot? Where?”

“My right leg,” Henrietta said with a huff of
disgust. “Apparently it happens when you don’t get up and move around enough.
Although how I’m supposed to do that—”

“Okay, I got it.” Derian kept her voice calm.
“How come no one called me about it?”

“It’s not like there was anything you needed
to do,” Henrietta said. “It was far more important that you take care of business
and not be distracted. I’m perfectly capable of making my own medical decisions
now.”

“I want to talk to the doctor.” Derian turned
to go.

Henrietta caught her arm. “He’s not going to
tell you anything that I haven’t already told you. I need a course of
anticoagulants—heparin—and then some oral medication after I get home. It’s not
a major setback.”

“Are you telling me the whole story?”
Henrietta was perfectly capable of downplaying the seriousness of the
complication, but going head-to-head with her was not something she wanted to
do.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, but I’m still going to talk to him
tomorrow.”

“Of course you are,” Henrietta said fondly.
“So tell me all about today.”

Derian recounted everything she could
remember about the meetings with the foreign rights agents. “Emily is writing
everything up for you because she knows you’d want to know. But you have to
promise to let us handle it.”

“How is that going? The two of you at the
agency?”

“I’m surviving, but I’m pretty much useless.”
Derian hadn’t told her about Donatella and didn’t intend to.

“I doubt that. You’re quick when you put your
mind to it. And Emily knows what she’s about. The two of you should be able to
handle anything.”

“Emily could handle anything without me,”
Derian said.

“Everyone needs a sounding board, Derian. And
given the circumstances, Emily needs your support.”

“She has it,” Derian said. “And the sooner we
get things straightened out, the better.”

“As soon as I’m up and around—”

Derian shook her head. “No deal. You’re not
going back to work, HW. Not until the doctors say, and until then, I’m in
charge.”

Henrietta’s brows shot up, and the old fire
kindled in her eyes. “Really? A coup, is it?”

Derian grinned. “You might think of it that
way.”

Henrietta leaned back against the pillows,
looking tired, but satisfied. “If I’d known I’d have to have a heart attack to
get you into the office, I might have contemplated it previously.”

Derian leaned over and kissed her. “I’m
sorry. If I’d known you needed me, I would’ve come.”

Henrietta stroked her cheek. “I know that,
and you did come. I’ve always known that too.”

“It’s good to be here.” She never thought
she’d say that, but then she never thought she’d want a lot of things she
suddenly found she couldn’t stop thinking about. “I should let you get some
sleep.”

“Don’t forget you have the National Book
Awards coming up,” Henrietta said.

Derian winced. “Yeah. I saw that on the
schedule. I don’t suppose—”

“Emily will need company—it’s always easier
to network that way.”

“Oh.” Derian thought for a second she saw an
amused glint in HW’s eye, but then it was gone. Any excuse for a night out with
Emily was fine with her, even a stuffy awards ceremony. “Right. I’m looking
forward to it.”

“I’m sure.” Henrietta laughed. “I can’t wait
to hear all about it.”

Emily was dressed and ready to go way too early. To
keep from checking her makeup for the tenth time or looking in the mirror again
to be sure her dress fell just right and not too low between her breasts, she
went to the window to watch for Derian. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel
like a high school girl waiting for her prom date, even though she’d never
actually gone to the prom. She’d missed those things after the accident.
Refusing to allow the past to intrude on a night she’d been anticipating for
weeks, she let those memories drift back to where they belonged.

She was dressed to the nines and going out to
a gala with a handsome woman, and she intended to enjoy every minute of the
evening, even if she was the only one who thought of it like it was a date.
Derian undoubtedly thought of the National Book Awards as a necessary evil of
her temporary job, but she’d agreed to attend with the same willingness she’d
tackled all the other new responsibilities at Winfield’s. She’d settled in
remarkably well at the agency, and despite not having any formal training in
literature, she had an innate appreciation for what worked and what didn’t.
Derian seemed to enjoy their business discussions as much as Emily and had a
natural affinity for the production side of the business, being exceptionally
good with numbers. Emily laughed to herself. No surprise there.

Helping Derian learn the agency didn’t feel
like work at all. She looked forward to every day, with their morning meetings,
their after-lunch conferences, and the impromptu moments when Derian would drop
by her office to ask her a question or discuss something that had come across
her desk. Derian wasn’t trying to replace Henrietta, but she was learning what
made Winfield’s tick. Unlike Donatella, Derian appreciated Henrietta’s vision,
the heart of it all, and that mattered more than anything.