Authors: Melanie Rawn
“The motto of parents everywhere.” Then, relenting in the face of his certainty, she smiled and murmured, “ ‘Through love, through hope / and faith’s transcendent dower / We feel that we are greater than we know.’ Wordsworth.” She poured two shots and handed one to Cam. “
Mazel Tov.
”
“
Nashti zhas vorta po drom o bango.
”
“Good grief!” Holly nearly choked on the whiskey. “What the hell was
that
?”
“Rom. ‘You cannot walk straight when the road is bent.’ ” He grinned, with full triumphant dimples.
“I swear by everything holy, if
any
of you people teach my children any word in any language other than English . . .” She sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Bring every damned bottle you can carry.”
THE FIRST WEEK IN DECEMBER an invoice arrived at Woodhush, detailing the annual fee for storage of cord blood cells. Appended was a letter apologizing for overcharging by one unit the year before, and a check for the refunded amount.
After several irate phone calls, subsequent investigation revealed that CryoCache Inc. had mistaken one unit for another—the difference being two reversed digits—and after inventory in July 2004 had pulled the item for disposal. Further tracking was impossible, and the company could only assume that the unit had indeed been destroyed. Deepest regrets, massive corporate abasement, and the guarantee of free storage for the remaining unit for life all added up to
Please don’t take us to court.
Evan and Holly considered it, then traded angry shrugs and hoped to high heaven that Bella would never need the medical advantages of her own cord-blood cells. Or, if she did, that Kirby’s would do just as well.
Everybody said that Poppy Elizabeth Griffen looked more like Cam every day.
My thanks to all the usual suspects. You know who you are.
According to the U.S. State Department’s 2008 annual report, 800,000 people are trafficked across international borders every year.
Every year
. It is estimated that 80 percent of trafficking cases involve women; 50 percent involve children. In 2004, human trafficking was a $9.5 billion industry worldwide. Many of the details in this novel were taken from real-life accounts found in Victor Malarek’s 2003 book,
The Natashas.
Sometimes, y’know, you’re writing merrily along, having a good time, everything pleasant about you—and a character simply shows up. It’s part of the fun (?) of the writing biz. It’s happened to me before, most notably with Kazander in the Dragon Prince novels. It happened again with Jamey Stirling. Holly’s cousin Cam was always due to be a part of the book, but when I was sketching out the party sequence (the first section to be written), Jamey arrived. I told him to go away. He wouldn’t. As it turned out, he had something of an agenda—and as many times as I rewrote the last chapter, he wouldn’t cooperate until it turned out the way he wanted it to. (I realize how utterly insane this sounds. But admitting it is half the battle, right?) I am told there are writers who know exactly what’s going to happen in their novels, exactly how it’s going to happen, and to whom. I’m not one of them.
My apologies to the citizens of the Commonwealth of Virginia (to many of whom I am related) for sneaking into their beautiful landscape a county that does not, in fact, exist. It’s very small; you won’t even notice it, really.
For the record: Yes, I’m Irish. Also English, German, Polish, Welsh, Scots, French, Swiss, and Dutch, plus a smattering of Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and Lithuanian. And my great-great-grandmother’s great-great-grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee.