"What's the catch?" he asked with the cynicism she expected.
"The catch would be that, because you didn't age, you would have to give up your family and friends and disappear from their lives forever. To have your one passionate, almost all consuming love, you would eventually have to give up many people you love."
Chris whistled softly. "That's a tough one." He thought about it briefly, then said, "Well, I guess it would depend upon how much I loved her. I mean, family are special, but they have family of their own."
Kate frowned. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Well, couples have kids who grow up, fall in love, move away and have kids and a family life of their own. The original family are still important to them, but their own children become a priority. When push comes to shove, their own family comes first."
"Yes, but—"
"Is this character a man or a woman?" Chris interrupted. Kate blinked.
"What?"
"The character? I presume you're fretting over the plot of a book, yes?"
Kate hesitated, then nodded. She could hardly tell him that it was real life. He'd think her nuts, she'd gone off her cracker. "A woman."
Chris nodded. "That makes it easier, then."
"It does?"
"Sure. Women have been faced with this decision down through ages. From medieval times on, they grew up, married and moved away, usually far enough that they didn't see their family ever again," he pointed out. "After all, it wasn't as if they could hop a plane."
"No," Kate agreed slowly.
"Heck, you even faced a similar choice when you came here to work. You left your family in Nebraska."
Kate frowned. "That's different. They're there if I need them. It isn't like I will never see them again."
"Well, they'll still be there for this character, too. It isn't like they will die when she disappears from their lives. She could probably see them from a distance, keep tabs on them. And if there was an emergency, and she really had to, she could probably approach them in the future. Somehow."
Kate nodded slowly. She hadn't thought of that. She might not be able to speak to them but…"
"Is this a modern book or an historical like his first?" Chris asked.
Kate hesitated. He obviously thought she was concerned about Lucern's latest book. "Modern," she said at last, leaving him his delusion.
"Hmm, that makes it a bit harder," he decided.
"Why?" Kate asked.
"Well… if it was a medieval like his first one, the heroine could move away and still correspond with her family. They would never know she wasn't aging. But nowadays, it would be hard to move somewhere that wasn't a flight away."
That might work, Kate thought to herself. She smiled at him. "You're pretty good with plot devices, my friend."
"That's why they pay me the big bucks." He gave her a wink.
Kate laughed. None of them got paid big bucks. They were underpaid, overworked and stressed most of the time. And she had moved all the way from Nebraska to do it. They were all insane, she thought with a shake of the head. But they loved books. She picked up her briefcase and headed for the door.
"Where are you going now?" Chris asked with interest. He fell into step beside her.
"Home to bed. I need more sleep before I can consider your suggestions properly."
Kate slept long and hard, mostly because she was sure there was an answer to her problem in what Chris had said. If she could just think clearly, she would find it. That belief eased the ache in her heart and gave her some hope for a possible future with Lucern.
It was mid-afternoon when Kate awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. Stumbling sleepily out of bed, she dragged her fuzzy pink robe and pink bunny slippers on over her flannel bunny nightgown and made her way into the living room.
"Who is it?" she asked through a yawn when she reached the door.
"Marguerite."
Kate stiffened, her weariness disappearing in a heartbeat. Lucern's mother? Dear God.
The smile she offered in greeting was a wary one when she opened the door. "Mrs. Argeneau. What a surprise."
"I imagine so." Marguerite's smile was confident and amused. "May I come in?"
"Of course." Kate stepped out of the way to allow the woman to enter, then closed the door and followed her down the short hall to the tiny living room. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?"
"No, thank you." Marguerite settled on the couch, her gaze slipping over the manuscript on the coffee table, then to the computer set up on the small dining-room table. "I see you are a writer like Lucern."
Kate's gaze dropped self-consciously to the first ten chapters of the story she was writing. She'd printed them to edit, then never got the chance.
"It's no wonder the two of you deal well together. You are the same in many ways, but the opposite in others."
Kate shifted uncomfortably. "Mrs. Argeneau—"
"I asked you to call me Marguerite, if I recall," she interrupted calmly.