“I don’t really care. As long as they clean the beer cans off the patio and no one vomits in the fountain. But I have to write, as you know. My deadline is approaching, so I’m heading back to the city, where it will be empty and quiet, to get some work done. That’s why I was surprised you made the trip down. I’ll be back in Manhattan Friday.”

“And miss this view?” Kenny said. “Plus, we didn’t want to wait until Friday. We want you to know that you’re our biggest priority. You’re family to us, Natalie, and we’re going to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

“Diane gave me my start. Do you really think I’d go anywhere else?”

“We’re taking nothing for granted,” Kenny said.

“Hemingway is prepared to make an offer for the next five Peg Perugo novels,” Diane said. “We’ve sent a formal offer to your literary agent, but wanted to make sure the offer was in the ballpark of your expectations.”

“It exceeds them,” Natalie said, nodding her head. “My agent called this morning to discuss the details. I have a meeting planned with her next week.”

“If another house comes over the top of us,” Kenny said, “we just ask that you give us an opportunity to rework the deal. It obviously has to make sense for Hemingway, but we’ll move heaven and earth to keep you.”

“I’m really flattered you both made the trip down here,” Natalie said. “And I’m more than blown away by the offer and the effort. But I’m going to let you both in on a little secret. I told my agent not to entertain proposals from any other publishers. I’m one hundred percent satisfied at Hemingway, and Diane is a rock star. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kenny nodded his head slowly and pouted his bottom lip. “Well, that was easier than I imagined.”

“Now that that crap’s out of the way,” Diane said, “when do I get to see your manuscript?”

Natalie smiled. “When I’m finished with it. I have until October.”

“Maybe I should take a peek at the first hundred pages.”

“Not a chance,” Natalie said. “I’m wrapping up the first draft soon, and then heading to Santorini in September to polish it.”

For every novel Natalie Ratcliff had published since Baggage took the world by storm, she had gone to Santorini—a quaint and tranquil Greek island where the Ratcliffs owned a hillside villa—to write the final chapters of the story and polish the manuscript before handing it over to Diane.

“It was worth a try,” Diane said. “I can’t wait to read it. Honestly, Natalie, I’m thrilled that you and Peg Perugo will be with us for many years.”

“Me too.”

“I also have a favor to ask,” Kenny said, as Natalie refilled everyone’s wineglass.