Page 62 of Play On

“Aren’t we talking now?”

I roll my eyes, and he snickers.

“Okay, smartarse. But I’d like to talk to you about something in particular.”

“Go ahead,” Nicholas says, studying me.

“It’s time I got serious about my career. Or lack of one,” I say softly. “I want to work in art. I know I won’t be able to do anything with the art here until you take over, and God forbid, that won’t be for a long, long time. So if I want to work in art, I’ll most likely need to go somewhere else. Like London.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes flicker with interest, but he remains quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“Yet I can’t go to London without more experience for my CV. I held myself back out of fear. My fear of failure has kept me grounded in the gift shop, where I’m not likely to disappoint anyone except for the occasional tourist who doesn’t like our products or who wants me to drop the price on a souvenir book.

“So what I’d like to do are a few projects here at Wintersmith Hall that will show as attractive skills on my CV,” I continue. “Like arranging some sculpture exhibits in the gardens. Or showcasing local artists in a pop-up show. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to approach Dad about these things.”

A confused crease appears on Nicholas’s brow. “Violet, you don’t need my permission to ask Dad anything.”

“I know I don’t. But my gut says Dad won’t be threatened by these projects, so he might say yes. And he might say yes because I’m asking instead of you,” I say quietly. “It’s not fair. I know that. And I know that could hurt you, Nicholas.”

“No, Vi, absolutely not,” he says firmly. “If Dad approves one of your ideas, and you’re committed to doing it? Then I will be the first one asking if I can help you.”

“You have to be honest with me.”

“I’m your twin. What do you think I’m being?”

I stare at him, studying his eyes.

He’s telling the truth.

“Thank you,” I say. “I also promise you I will see any idea through if Dad approves it.”

“I think he will,” Nicholas says, grinning at me. “Especially if you stay away from anything dealing with what belongs in the house.”

“Okay. And I will need your help.”

“You have it. And you’ll have Amelia’s, too.”

“I appreciate this more than you know.”

He smiles at me. “I know you do.”

Inside, I breathe a deep sigh of relief. I’m so glad Nicholas and I have this kind of relationship. We genuinely love each other. We’d be friends if we weren’t siblings, and that’s something I treasure.

“So guess who I hung out with in London, besides Noah?”

“Other assorted footballers?”

“Stop. Remember my friend Aimee? From St. Andrews?”

Recognition lights Nicholas’s face. “Oh yeah, of course. The Australian.”

“Yes. Well, we met up at Wisteria House and reconnected.”

“That’s brilliant. What’s she doing now?”

“She’s still working in publishing,” I say. “Moved up to editorial assistant.”

“Good for her. I always liked her.”

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