"Good. Then arrange it. I'll do the R.T. interview. Now, when are you going to leave me in peace?"
Kate glanced at the kitchen clock. It was almost noon. She had called earlier and found out there was a one-o'clock flight, a three-o'clock and a five-o'clock. She had thought she would have to take one of the later flights, and she still could if she wanted to spend more time with him. But then his words clicked. "Good. Then I'll do the R. T. interview." R.T. hadn't asked to do an interview yet. The only R.T. event was the conference. Had Lucern's mother led him astray? Deliberately?
"Er… Luc, what exactly did your mother say about the R.T. thing?"
Her author shrugged. "She said, 'I suggest you tell her you'll do R.T.' She thought it was probably the best option for both of us."
"And that's all she said?" Kate asked carefully.
Lucern nodded, then added, "Oh, and she said it was a magazine."
Kate had to consider this. Marguerite had led her son astray all right, and the only reason she could imagine the other woman would do that was to try to help her. Kate felt a twinge of guilt.
A moment later, she let it go. Marguerite wouldn't do anything to harm her son. She must think he would go, too. And that it would be good for him. Kate wasn't going to get into the middle of it. He'd said he would do the R.T. "thing"; she would leave it at that.
She would also get the heck out of there before he realized it was a conference, not an interview, and tried to back out.
"Oh! I didn't realize it was so late," she gasped, peering at her wristwatch with feigned surprised. Then she smiled at Lucern sweetly. "You asked when I was going to leave you in peace. Well, there's a one-o'clock flight that I can just make if I hurry!"
And with that, she whirled and rushed out of the kitchen.
Lucern gaped at the swinging kitchen door. He'd wanted her gone, but her eagerness to comply was a bit disconcerting. He tilted his head and scowled at the ceiling as banging and bumping erupted upstairs. She was obviously rushing about like a crazywoman up there. It seemed she couldn't get out of his home fast enough. It also seemed she was mostly packed, because it wasn't long before he heard her rush along the hall overhead.
He stepped into the hall in time to see her rush down the stairs. A car honked out front at the same moment her foot landed on the ground floor.
"Oh!" Kate turned toward the kitchen, then paused. She smiled in relief when she saw him. "There you are! Good! My taxi's here and I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
"Taxi?" Lucern echoed with disbelief.
"Yes. I called from my room while packing. Boy, they're fast here, huh?"
When Lucern simply stared at her blankly, Kate hesitated. Finally, hefting her suitcase she said, "Well. Thanks for everything. I know I was an unwanted guest, but you were pretty good about it, all things considered. And I appreciate—oh, damn!" she muttered as the cab honked again.
"Wait!" Lucern called as his editor turned and opened the front door. She hesitated, waving at the cab to let the driver know she was coming, then turned back. Lucern didn't really have anything to say; he was just reluctant to see her go. After searching his mind for something—anything—about which to speak, he finally came up with, "What about the interview? When will you arrange it? And you should have my phone number so that you can call and let me know when it is. And my e-mail address, too," he added as the thoughts struck him.
"Um…" She winced, then admitted, "Your mother gave me both your number and e-mail address."
"She did?" He was startled, though he knew he shouldn't be. Not with his busybody mother.
"Yes." Kate sidled a little further out the door, a fascinating expression on her face. She looked torn, as if she knew she had to tell him something but didn't really want to. Lucern's fascination deepened when she took another crablike step sideways before blurting, "R.T. doesn't want an interview."
"It doesn't?"
"No, they don't. The R.T. thing your mother was talking about is a conference." A look of pain crossed her face; then, while Lucern was trying to absorb that, she added, "But don't worry. You won't regret this. I'll be there with you and will look out for you the whole time." She was still sidling and had almost made it out the door as she added on a babble, "I'll send you all the information and the tickets and pick you up from the airport and everything. So don't worry!"
The taxi chose that moment to give another impatient honk.
"Gotta go!" Kate cried, and pulled the door closed with a slam. The sound echoed through the house, followed by the tap-tap of her rush down the porch steps. Then silence fell.
Lucern was transfixed. It was as if he had been poleaxed. Conference? His mother hadn't said anything about a conference. She'd said Romantic Times was a magazine. A book club. Someone who would want an interview. Kate must be confused. Dear God, she'd better be confused.