The email arrived on Tuesday morning, when Sophie was still in bed, the light just beginning to fill the room, the lake grey and still beyond the window. She reached for her phone the way she did every morning now — a reflex born of anticipation — and saw Kerensa's name in her inbox. She sat up, the sheet falling, and read it once, then again, before setting the phone down and turning to Aaron with an expression he could not quite read.
"She's coming to Los Angeles."
"Kerensa?"
Sophie nodded. "There's a translation conference at UCLA next week. She's one of the speakers. She asked if we could meet in person." She paused, her thumb running along the edge of the phone. "She wants to discuss the manuscript. Face to face."
Aaron propped himself up on one elbow. "That's good."
"It is. It's just — I've only known her through emails. Meeting in person changes things. She'll see that I'm not a publisher yet. I'm just someone with a dream and a dining table."
