Hayley - Kathryn Shay Page 0,15
It offends me, too.”
“I—”
“And Paul, you need to change your tone. The title John holds commands respect. Now, you can leave us alone.”
Cramer’s mouth dropped. “That’s all you’re going to do to him?”
“It is. Paul?”
Though he didn’t want to, Paul resisted the urge to continue and walked away from the door. Halfway to his own office, he calmed enough to wonder what the hell was he thinking to challenge a partner like that?
He was afraid he knew the answer. Damn it, Hayley Casella was still turning him into a maniac. He had to get her out of his head.
* * *
Hayley sat at a desk in the corner of the living room, sorting through the mail. Finn’s plane was late and she was anxious to see him. The modern grandfather clock ticked in the hallway, and the fridge turned on. Otherwise, the house was still.
The assortment of letters, manilla envelopes, flyers and a couple of pieces which were labeled, Invitation, were among the stuff Finn received. She made a separate pile for him and drew the rest closer. She was halfway through reading her own mail when she heard the key in the door.
Standing, she rushed to the foyer. “Finn!” She threw herself at him. He let go of the handle of his suitcase and hugged her. “This is quite a welcome.”
Stepping back, she said, “I missed you.”
His face was lined, his clothes wrinkled and his hair messy.
He tipped her chin. “Something’s wrong.”
“Not wrong.” She shrugged. “But bothering me. I’ll fill you in later. I got dinner from Luigi’s and it’s warming in the oven. Would you like to eat, or get settled?”
“Neither. I need a drink. Before we even left LA, the plane was delayed on the runway for two hours to have some maintenance done.”
“Go sit. I’ll fix us both something.”
Leaving his things in the foyer, Finn walked into the living room behind her. Hayley went to the sideboard and he made himself comfortable on one of the teal leather couches she’d bought when they redid the interior.
“Wine or hard stuff?”
“Hard stuff.”
At a bar in the corner, she poured them both some Irish whiskey with a cube of ice. Then she dropped next to her brother on the couch. “So, how was the bookfair?”
“Interesting. On the advice of my manager, I bought quite a few rare books for the shop. A couple of first edition novels, some signed ones that came out later and even a children’s book.”
“Sounds great.” Sipping her drink, she stared at him over the rim. “Did you see your favorite author?”
His eyes were amused. “I did.”
“How is she?”
“Still married. But we…got together.”
Hayley made sure she never criticized Finn for his life choices. All of that was his business. He returned the favor. “Is she coming to New York?”
“Not until the spring. But I booked some others for events in the fall.”
His shop, as he called it, was one of the most popular independent bookstores in Manhattan. Named after Finn’s favorite writer, Fitzgerald’s had become a huge success. One reason was his ability to attract first-rate authors for signings and presentations. Another was the rare book collection which had a huge online presence. Some innovative activities completed his offerings. Finn was excellent at his chosen profession. “There were a lot of Independently Published authors there. I was glad to see it.”
“Why?”
“They’re more interesting and many times their books are, too. They don’t kowtow to publishers.”
She cocked her head. “How do you sell ebooks off line?”
“First, a lot of authors bring print-on-demand copies to a signing for patrons to buy. Authors also create bar codes to give out to purchase online.”
“Remember that time I dated an author? He complained about his publisher all the time.”
“I was happy to see you ditch him.”
“He was a nice guy except he bitched all the time.”
“That he did.”
“How’d the store get along without you?”
“I called every day. Millie had good sales numbers when I was away and was excited about the rare books I snagged.” He rolled his eyes. “She didn’t do anything crazy while I was away.”
Hayley chuckled. “You two! Sometimes I can’t believe the stories you tell me about your fights.”
“We don’t fight. We have disagreements.” He leaned over and squeezed her arm. “What’s bothering you tonight?”
“Who. Paul Covington.”
“You told me on the phone your bosses banned you from arguing cases together.” He laughed. “Like little kids in the playground who are told they can’t play with each other.”
“All that’s true. And it wasn’t funny when we got