"Edwin wants you to do a book-signing tour?" Marguerite scowled. "I thought you made it clear to him from the start that you weren't interested in publicity."
"Not Edwin. No." Lucern wasn't surprised that his mother recalled his old editor's name; she had a perfect memory and he'd mentioned Edwin many times over the ten years he'd been writing for Roundhouse Publishing. His first works had been published as historical texts used mostly in universities and colleges. Those books were still in use and were celebrated for the fact that they'd been written as if the writer had actually lived through every period about which he wrote. Which, of course, Lucern had. That was hardly public knowledge, though.
Lucern's last three books, however, had been autobiographical in nature. The first told the story of how his mother and father had met and come together, the second how his sister Lissianna had met and fallen in love with her therapist husband, Gregory, and the latest, published just weeks ago, covered the story of his brother Etienne and Rachel Garrett. Lucern hadn't meant to write them, they'd just sort of spilled forth. But once he'd written them, he'd decided they should be published records for the future. Gaining his family's permission, he'd sent them in to Edwin, who'd thought them brilliant works of fiction and published them as such. Not just fiction, either, but "paranormal romance." Lucern had suddenly found himself a romance writer. The whole situation was somewhat distressing for him, so he generally did his best not to think about it.
"Edwin is no longer my editor," he explained. "He had a heart attack late last year and died. His assistant was given his title and position, and she's been harassing me ever since." He scowled again. "The woman is trying to use me to prove herself. She is determined that I should do some publicity events for the novels."
Bastien looked as if he were about to comment, but paused and turned at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Lucern opened the door, and the two men watched with varying degrees of surprise as a taxi pulled to a stop beside Bastien's van.
"Wrong address?" Bastien queried, knowing his brother wasn't big on company.
"It must be," Lucern commented. He narrowed his eyes when the driver got out and opened the back door for a young woman.
"Who is that?" Bastien asked. He sounded even more surprised than Lucern felt.
"I haven't a clue," Lucern answered. The taxi driver retrieved a small suitcase and overnight bag from the trunk of the car.
"I believe it's your editor," Marguerite announced.
Both Lucern and Bastien swiveled to peer at their mother. They found her reading the now-open FedExed letter.
"My editor? What the hell are you talking about?" Lucern marched over to snatch the letter out of her hand.
Ignoring his rude behavior, Lucern's mother moved to Bastieh's side and peered curiously outside. "As the mail is so slow, and because the interest in your books is becoming so widespread, Ms. Kate C. Leever decided to come speak to you in person. Which," Marguerite added archly, "you would know should you bother to read your mail."
Lucern crumpled the letter in his hand. It basically said everything his mother had just verbalized. That, plus the fact that Kate C. Leever would be arriving on the 8 p.m. flight from New York. It was 8:30. The plane must have been on time.
"She's quite pretty, isn't she?" The comment, along with the speculation in his mother's voice when she made it, was enough to raise alarm in Lucern. Marguerite sounded like a mother considering taking the matchmaking trail—a path quite familiar to her. She'd taken it upon first seeing Etienne and Rachel together, too, and look how that had turned out: Etienne hip deep in wedding preparations!
"She's contemplating matchmaking, Bastien. Take her home. Now," Lucern ordered. His brother burst out laughing, moving him to add, "After she has finished with me, she shall focus on finding you a wife."
Bastien stopped laughing at once. He grabbed his mother's arm. "Come along, Mother. This is none of our business."
"Of course it is my business." Marguerite shrugged her elbow free. "You are my sons. Your happiness and future are very much my business."
Bastien tried to argue. "I don't understand why this is an issue now. We are both well over four hundred years old. Why, after all this time, have you taken it into your head to see us married off?"
Marguerite pondered for a moment. "Well, ever since your father died, I've been thinking—"
"Dear God," Lucern interrupted. He woefully shook his head.
"What did I say?" his mother asked.
"That is exactly how Lissianna ended up working at the shelter and getting involved with Greg. Dad died, and she started thinking."
Bastien nodded solemnly. "Women shouldn't think."
"Bastien!" Marguerite Argeneau exclaimed.