Until the End of Time (25 page)

“Hello, Mr. Lattimer. I’m sorry to bother you again,” she said softly. She wanted to call the publisher quickly before the boys finished their mission, but they were chatting with the two young workers behind the barn and were in no rush.

“I thought I might see you”—he smiled at her—“after that e-mail I sent you yesterday. That’s a serious letter. It must be quite a book.” He looked impressed, and she smiled nervously at him. “Would you like to send him an answer?” he volunteered.

“Could we call?” she asked breathlessly, and he nodded, as she slipped the letter out of her pocket and gave it to him for the numbers. He dialed for her a minute later and handed the phone to her. She waited while it rang, and a voice answered immediately. She wasn’t sure what to say, as Joe Lattimer watched her. He could see her hand shaking as she held the phone.

“May I please speak to Mr. Bellagio,” she said carefully, amazed by how clear the connection was. The woman on the phone sounded like she was in the same room. Lilli thought she might have to speak loudly, but she didn’t.

“I’ll see if he’s in.” The voice disappeared off the line, and she looked at Joe Lattimer in panic.

“I think she’s gone.”

“You’re probably on hold,” he explained. “Just wait. She’ll be back.” And a minute later she was.

“I’ll put you through. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Lillibet Petersen,” she said clearly, hoping he’d remember her name. She assumed he was an important, busy person, and maybe he’d forgotten.

The receptionist had located Bob in his office and told him Elizabeth Petersen was on the line, and he knew immediately who it was, despite the garbled name. He had been hoping she’d call if she got the e-mail. And it hadn’t taken long.

“Miss Petersen?” He took the call immediately, and she was startled by his voice. She felt as though she’d heard it before. Something about it was so familiar.

“Yes,” she almost whispered, she was so overwhelmed to hear him.

“I want to come and see you. I love your book. I want to publish it,” he said in a strong tone, and she was silent for a moment, listening to his voice.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t used to having a conversation on the telephone and didn’t know what to say. At his end, he heard the softness of her voice, and thought she might be scared. It didn’t occur to him that she had never spoken on a phone before and wasn’t sure how it worked. It seemed like magic to her.

“When can I come and see you?” he asked more gently, and she relaxed a little.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to admit to him that she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere and couldn’t meet him. Then he wouldn’t
want her book. “I don’t know if … when I can.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said it. “My father is very strict,” she said softly.

“I understand,” he said, feeling an insane desire to put his arms around her. He had no idea what she looked like, and all he wanted to do was protect her from a man he didn’t know. “Maybe we could meet at the dairy, with Mr. Lattimer. Would that be more comfortable for you?” He was trying to make it easier for her, but it would be hard for her, which he didn’t know.

“Yes. I will try,” she promised him. She would move heaven and earth to get there, but something could go wrong. She had no reason to go to the dairy with her brothers, so all the stars would have to line up right so she could go with them again.

“Would this Friday work for you?” He was thinking of driving down on Thursday night, to make sure he’d be there, and there would be no delays.

“Maybe. If I can get out,” she said honestly. “It’s not easy. I have chores to do on the farm. I take care of my father and brothers.”

“Yes, of course.” He didn’t have the slightest inkling of what her life was like, but he was trying to imagine. It was a world beyond his ken. “What time would be best for you?”

“They usually come in the morning. Perhaps at eleven, but before noon.”

“I’ll be there from ten o’clock on,” he promised her, “in case you arrive early. Come whenever you can. I’ll be there. I’ll see you on Friday … and Lillibet … thank you for your wonderful book, and for meeting me. It’s going to be a big success.”

“I hope so,” she said softly, not really knowing what that meant to
him or even to herself. “Thank you for coming to meet me. I’m sorry it’s not easier.” She didn’t know why, but she trusted him and felt as though she knew him. And he felt the same way about her and had no idea why.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll work it out.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and then they hung up. Bob sat at his desk, thinking about her for a long moment, shaken by the reality of her voice. She sounded so touching, so young, and so shy. All he wanted was to do this right for her and make it as easy as he could. And it made no sense to him, but he had the feeling that meeting her on Friday would change his life.

And as soon as Lillibet hung up, she looked at Joe Lattimer as though she were in shock.

“He’s coming on Friday. He wants to publish my book.”

Joe nodded. He had understood. “Are you going to tell your father?” He had become her co-conspirator and ally, but somehow it felt right to him too, and it was exciting to be part of it. What if her book was a big hit?

“Yes, but not yet,” Lillibet said about telling her father. “I don’t want him to stop me. He won’t understand at first.” And maybe never. But she couldn’t imagine that he would shun her for something like this. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t leaving. They were just going to publish her book. That was all. But her father wouldn’t be pleased. She had no illusions about that.

“I think this is very thrilling,” Joe Lattimer said seriously. “You should be very proud.”

“I’m very scared,” she said honestly, and he smiled at her.

“Don’t be. I think it will be fine. Your father may be upset at first, but he’ll get over it. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She nodded, wishing that were true. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday then.”

“If I can get out,” she whispered. But she knew she had to now.

She thanked Joe Lattimer then, and went to find her brothers. They were just coming from behind the barn. She waited for them to get the cheese for their father, and then they got back in the buggy. They didn’t even know she’d gone to see Joe Lattimer, they’d been having too much fun on their own. And she was silent on the ride home. Her heart was pounding as she thought of the call to New York. She had to find an excuse to go with them on Friday, whatever it took.

Bob Bellagio had lunch with his brother Paul on Wednesday at a restaurant on Wall Street that both brothers liked. They talked about a big deal Paul was doing, and a killing he had made in the stock market for one of his clients, and how well his son was doing in school. Everything was always perfect in his life, or seemed that way to his younger brother, who had been struggling with his business, had no love life, had never been married, and had no kids. He didn’t even have a dog, and Paul had two. And Paul was married to the perfect woman, who entertained his clients, had brought up their children impeccably, including piano lessons, Mandarin, and windsurfing, did volunteer work for the Junior League, and ran their home like a Swiss clock. Bob always felt like a lesser being whenever he was with him, as though somehow he had failed. Paul’s wife had a law degree but no longer used it. All Bob wanted to do
was publish books. It seemed so meager compared to their accomplishments. And all he wanted now was one number-one best seller to justify what he’d been doing for the last five years.

“I think I may have found a winner this week,” Bob said, sounding excited, at the end of lunch. They’d been talking about Paul since they sat down. They usually did, unless Paul told him the many things he was doing wrong in his life and should be doing differently. It was the relationship they’d had all their lives, since they were kids. Paul was perfect. Bob fell short. Their parents saw them that way too, or at least that was Bob’s impression. “It’s a knockout book, written by an Amish girl. I found it totally by accident. I’m going down to meet with her day after tomorrow and buy her book.”

“That’s terrific.” Paul sounded genuinely pleased for him. He always did. The disappointment always crept in later, and the comparisons. “What kind of book can an Amish girl write?”

“A damn good one. Like modern-day Jane Austen. Only better.”

“Will that sell?” He looked concerned for his brother. He had been working so hard for so long, with nothing much to show for it yet.

“It will, like hotcakes,” Bob assured him, and for once he felt strangely confident as he said it. As though he’d found the holy grail. He felt as though he had magic in his pocket. He was absolutely certain Lillibet’s book was going to be a major hit.

“Who’s the girl?”

“All I know is that she’s Amish, in her early twenties, and talented as hell.”

“Ex-Amish, or Amish now?”

“Amish now.”

“Wow, that should be interesting. You can teach her to use indoor
plumbing and have her milk a cow on the
Today
show. How the hell are you going to use her to promote? It’s a little
Heidi
, no?” Bob hated how clever his brother was with words. Just like their mother, who could still reduce them all to rubble with tongue or pen.

“I haven’t met her yet. We’ve only spoken on the phone.”

“At least she has one. You had me worried for a minute.”

“She doesn’t.” Bob was smiling at him, and for once he wasn’t worried, and his brother didn’t have him scared. He had a secret weapon. Her name was Lillibet Petersen, and she wrote like a dream. “She called me from a dairy farm. I’m meeting her there, if her father lets her.” He was actually enjoying torturing his brother with the image, although he was nervous about it himself. He was determined to work it out.

“And if her father doesn’t?” Paul said, looking intrigued.

“I’ll find her. I’m not going to lose this book. I discovered it totally by accident, in our slush pile. I can’t tell you why, but I think it’s fate.”

“Oh God,” Paul said, looking at his younger brother. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her. You wait thirty-six years to fall in love, and you fall in love with an Amish girl. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m in love with her book. You will be too when you read it. She writes like an angel.”

“All right, I’ll grant you that. You’re a great judge of contemporary literature. Just don’t bring her home.”

“Why not?” Bob said, intrigued by the idea. He was fascinated with her, and her voice on the phone had gone straight to his heart. He had been fantasizing about her for days.

“Mom would have a nervous breakdown. I don’t think she’s ready
for Amish.” Their mother was one of the toughest lawyers in the city, and the thought of introducing an Amish girl to her made Bob laugh.

“It might do her good.”

“Just get the book. Leave the girl on the farm. Besides, she may not be cute. And she’s young.”

“I can always adopt her,” he laughed at his brother and picked up the check. It was his turn. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, do that. And remember, we’re supposed to marry women like our mothers.” It was exactly what Paul had done, to a frightening degree.

“I’ve been trying not to do that for the past thirty-six years,” Bob said in a rare moment of total honesty with his brother. “I don’t think that would work for me.”

“Amish might be a little extreme,” Paul said as they left the restaurant. “Have fun at the dairy farm,” he said with a rueful grin as they parted, and Bob walked back to his office, lost in thought. He could hardly wait to meet Lillibet on Friday. He had a strange feeling it was going to be extraordinary. He already felt as though he knew her. And her voice in the book was so strong. He wondered if you could actually fall in love with someone from reading their work. Maybe it was possible. Stranger things had happened.

Chapter 16

On Friday morning, Markus woke with a bad cold. Lillibet brought him some of the herbal medicine she made, and a cup of tea with honey, and made him stay in bed. She sent Josiah to do the chores and helped him milk the cows, and she noticed with dismay that they were falling behind and it was getting late. Willy had left with their father at the crack of dawn. She helped Josiah put the milk containers in the buggy. And then as though she’d just thought of it, she told him she’d go with him.

“I can go by myself,” he said, looking annoyed to go with his big sister again.

“So can I,” she suggested, “if you’d rather stay here with Markus.” He looked suddenly intrigued by the idea. He got tired of going to the dairy every day. He liked the prospect of a day off, to stay at the house and play. “I don’t mind going. I went alone when you had chicken pox, and I was fine. Papa won’t mind.”

“Okay,” he said, hopping down and grinning at her. He scampered off without looking back, and she silently thanked her mother,
for making it all work. She had worn a fresh black dress and clean pale blue apron and her black bonnet. She didn’t dare wear her best Sunday dress for fear someone would notice. She gave the horse the reins and trotted off toward the dairy at nearly eleven, with her heart pounding all the way. She kept the horse at a good pace and was there in fifteen minutes. She saw Joe Lattimer talking to a tall man with dark hair, in a navy jacket and khaki slacks. They both watched her as she reined in the horse, and she hopped down, motioning to the boys at the dairy to take the milk cans out of the back. She walked toward the two men, and she knew it wasn’t possible, but she had the strong sense that she had seen the man in the blue jacket somewhere before, and he was looking at her intently and smiling as she walked toward him. She didn’t even feel shy—when she reached them, she felt like she was meeting a friend.

“Miss Petersen,” he said, holding out a hand to shake hers, and she took it in her own, as their eyes met. Hers were huge and green in her honey-colored face, and her blond hair was peeking out from under her bonnet. “Lillibet,” he said as though he knew her, and she smiled.

“Mr. Bellagio, hello. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to be late. We had a busy morning.”