Room to Breathe - Liz Talley Page 0,95

new.

Evan ordered the wine and appetizer and then turned to her. “So tell me about your new book.”

Frankly, no one ever wanted to talk about her writing and illustrating. Oh, they feigned interest, but usually the only people who ever debated plots or illustrations with her were other writers. “Well, I have the Mardi Gras book coming out in January. I’m doing a book tour in a week for my Christmas book. That came out last year, but my publisher set me up on a small regional tour because we’re about to announce the network deal. Book tours are lots of fun because I really get to connect with the kids, but they are tough on my creativity because while I can do some work on the road, most of it is done at home in my studio. I’m more comfortable there.”

“So do you paint or draw the actual illustration? I mean, like on an easel.”

“No, I use mostly digital illustration, so it’s like a big, blank page on a giant iPad, if you can imagine that. I still do the drawing, but I can easily manipulate the illustration, changing colors and moving images. It’s really cool.”

“How did you get into it?” he asked, nodding at the sommelier who arrived and presented the bottle. The man uncorked the bottle, offered the cork, and then poured a small amount in the glass. Evan studied the cork and then accepted the glass. He swirled it, narrowed his eyes, and then lifted it to his nose, breathing deeply. A quick taste, a weird chewing-looking motion, and then a sharp jerk of his head. “That will do fine.”

Daphne knew she stared, but she found his routine fascinating. “So that’s how it’s done.”

Evan smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s automatic with me now.”

She accepted a glass and sipped the full-bodied cabernet. “Nice.”

“Thanks. Now back to how you got started.”

“Well, when Ellery was in middle school, I went to a local college for graphic design. Just a community college. I loved to draw as a child, and my art teacher in high school believed in my talent. I took some design classes, some painting classes, and enrolled in an online illustrator program to learn the various mediums. My hope was to parlay my degree into doing some graphic art designs, but I loved writing stories and drawing the illustrations that helped to tell the story. I dreamed up this dog and made little stories for the preschool kids I worked with as a teacher’s aide. I never imagined my hobby of writing silly stories for my kids at work would take me to where I am now. I was truly an overnight success. It was sheer luck, really.”

“And talent, too?” Evan arched an eyebrow.

“A bit of that, but mostly luck. I made Dixie Doodle books for my kids for Christmas one year. One of the parents had a family member who works at Little Red Barn books, and she sent it to her. She loved it. Suddenly I went from hobbyist to professional author. It was crazy.”

Their appetizer arrived, and Evan set an empty plate in front of her. “I hope you like crab. I forgot to ask. See? I’m rusty.”

“Ditto for me,” she said with a smile. “And I love crab. So tell me more about you. I read about the vineyard and how your father bought the land thinking he’d raise cattle, but tell me about how you got involved with growing grapes.”

“You already know. I think that was one of the first things we talked about when you told me you liked my wines.”

Daphne tried not to look confused, but she knew he noticed.

His whiskey eyes met hers, and she knew that he knew that she had no clue what he was talking about. Evan cut a piece of the crab cake and set it on his plate. “We’ve been emailing each other for several months. I wrote you back at the end of July about speaking at Poppy’s school in March, and we struck up a friendship. Email exchanges five or six times a week. I’m now sensing that you know nothing about this.”

Daphne grappled with the information he’d imparted. So much now made sense—the flowers, the note, the warmth that first day at the vineyard. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve never seen an email from you, Evan. Ellery has been working as my assistant.”

He set his fork down, and she could see he was upset. “I wondered why you acted so .

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