Page 8 of Love Is…?

Tessa laughed, then reclaimed her seat, and pointed to a spot in front of her feet. Theo commando-crawled across the carpet and rolled over, clearly in love.

“Wild animals?”

“Yes. Apparently it’s highly entertaining when I visit because Theo seems to think I’m one of his toys from his basket. ‘Don’t lick my eyeball’ is a sentence I did not know I’d ever need to say, but then Abby and Sam adopted one excitable labradoodle.” He waved at the dog. “I was going to slowly introduce you to him but he had other ideas, apparently. And you’ve shown that you’re no pushover.”

Tessa reached down to ruffle Theo’s fur.

“Where did Theo’s name come from?”

“Claire Bloom’s character in the 1963 film,The Haunting. Claire played Theo as unbelievably queer and the censors missed it. They were so busy looking for things, in the noise of dialogue and in the shadows of the sets, that they missed Claire’s gestures and her use of silence and nuance. It was a brilliant piece of acting.”

Despite the foreboding title, Tessa made a note to download the film and watch it the following weekend with Angel. Havinga therapy cousin was necessary when watching a movie about dead people. She regarded Tom. There were more questions to ask.

“Does Grace actually want a chaperone?”

“Mm. Abby and Sam talked the idea over with Grace, and she wasn’t thrilled but gets the reason why. We had to find someone who was up for the challenge. Who could mesh well with her. Be her confidante just as much as Abby and Sam.”

“Sort of a big sister or an older person who’s not so far gone that they can still use ‘like’ as a verbal pause without sounding like they’ve watched a lot of TikTok videos on how to talk to the youth.”

Tom cracked up. “See? That. Grace Taylor is all about snarky humour. Excellent.”

Tessa grinned. “So, emotional support. Can do.”

“And logistics, like I mentioned. Plus tutoring if necessary. Although…” He shook his head and smiled. “Grace is wicked smart and does well at school. She has her preferred subjects, of course.” He looked at her quizzically. “Do you paint or draw or write poetry at all?”

Tessa jerked. “Yes! Poetry. Tonnes of it. Most of it appalling.”

“Unrequited love? That sort of thing?”

Tessa grimaced. “Mm. Yeah. I’m a hopeless romantic.” They held eye contact, then Tom grinned.

“Perfect. Grace is fourteen and, well…” He trailed off.

“Ah. Say no more.” Tessa pointed. “We can sob over Auden and Yeats together.”

Then, with Theo attached to Tessa’s heels, Tom, who seemed to be vibrating with joy, acted as guide for Tessa’s tour of the Taylor-Markson home.

Isabelle was a very serious person,Jayde decided. Isabelle would take life seriously. In a serious manner. Wearing the same serious expression that she wore now. All the time. She even had serious hair. Blonde. Straight. And caught up into such a tight ponytail that it had to be shooting darts of pain into her temples.

“Tilde’s email gave me the heads up, but I’m a bit hazy on the details…” Jayde raised her eyebrows hopefully.

“Yes,” Isabelle said crisply, her back straight in the club chair opposite Jayde’s at the side table in the study. The posture enhanced her shoulders, her height. Much taller than Jayde’s five foot seven. The complete opposite to one diminutive Tessa Connor, cuteness personified, sporting her stylish hair, who was apparently chatting to a Tom Campbell somewhere in the house.

Jayde blinked away the vision of Tessa and her adorable look of confusion, and waited, her posture relaxed in comparison to Isabelle’s. Jayde was very good at waiting. Most people felt compelled to fill silences, and she wondered if Isabelle—“I’m Ms Taylor’s agent”—would be most people.

Isabelle gave a short, low hum through her lips. “Well, firstly, congratulations on the article?—”

“Profile essay.” Jayde smiled.

“Yes. Hm.Culturemagazine has informed me that twenty interviews are required for you to write the essay, so we’ll schedule those in during this meeting.” Isabelle’s smile was thin. In fact, most of the woman was thin.I wonder if she’s ever eaten a TimTam. Devastating if not.

Jayde cocked her head. “I’m getting the sense that you’re not a fan of the impact on Abigail’s time.” That had been the most explosive news at the beginning of the meeting. Jaydehad attempted to appear calm, collected, and completely not fangirling like a massive fan. Abigail Taylor was a superstar and despite not liking her romantic comedies, Jayde could appreciate just how enormous this opportunity was.

Isabelle’s left cheek muscle twitched at Jayde’s casual use of her client’s name.

“I’m not afanof how much this impacts Ms Taylor’s time.” Isabelle shook her head quickly. “Twenty seems excessive, despite Ms Taylor understanding the need.” She huffed, and Jayde had the distinct impression that Isabelle thought Abigail Taylor had clearly lost her mind.

“Look. I get that this seems an imposition, but immersion is crucial in this type of journalism.” Jayde delivered a vague wave. “In long-form, narrative-style essays, I can’t hop in and out of a place, gather a few facts, then sit down to write. I need to get to know the person, understand how they live, who they are, and most importantly, their thoughts on the theme of the essay. There is no replacement for time spent with sources.”

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