“Me?” Liv said. “Oh, I don’t think I can—”

“But you’re literally her spokesperson.” Meg placed a hand on Liv’s arm. “Oh, here they are now, Stéphane and Brigitte.”

The two publishers walked over and shook hands with Meg, who spoke to them in fluent French. The trio laughed and took their seats. Brigitte had the glossiest long brown hair Liv had ever seen, and Stéphane’s magnificent curls looked like a lion’s mane.

Liv remained standing. She had a pulsing sound in her ears. Somewhere across the hall she saw Ted Mason, and sat down quickly on a stool. “Um, bonjour,” she said.

Meg reverted to talking in English and held up a couple of Essie’s books. Liv was so anxious she didn’t take in any of her words. She felt like she was watching the meeting from a soundproof glass booth. She smiled until her jaw ached and became aware that Meg, Brigitte and Stéphane were looking at her.

“I said, don’t you think The River After Midnight would be a good choice for La Plume?” Meg nodded at her.

Stéphane and Brigitte looked at her expectantly, too.

The book wasn’t one of Liv’s favorites. It featured a condescending hero and fewer action sequences than usual. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

Brigitte thought for a moment. “Something with depth and heart. Our readers want to feel every emotion.”

Liv ran through all nineteen novels in her head. One stood out for her, but it wasn’t one of Essie’s biggest bestsellers. “I’d suggest The Daylight Stream instead,” she said.

Meg flashed her a stare. “Really?”

Liv nodded. “It’s Essie’s eighth book and makes me cry the most. Georgia uncovers lots of secrets and reconnects with the daughter of someone she thought was dead. It’s incredibly moving.”

Stéphane’s eyes met with Brigitte’s. “Très intéressant,” he said. “I have not read this one.”

Liv scanned the shelves and picked up two copies of the book. She opened the covers and adhered a signed bookplate into each.

Stéphane nodded as he read the blurb on the back.

“Merci.” Brigitte smiled and shook Liv’s hand. “This sounds perfect. We shall discuss, and you may expect our offer soon.”

Meg stared after them, her face etched with surprise. “Well done, Livvy,” she said from the corner of her mouth. “Do you fancy meeting the Italians next?”

Throughout the course of the day, Liv joined Meg for several more meetings. At first, her shoulders were rounded, and her blood pressure shot up if anyone spoke to her. But by midafternoon she felt more confident in displaying her vast knowledge of Essie’s work. Perhaps she was the best person to tackle the author’s manuscript after all.