In a dream

By A.McMay

She's young, successful, and talented; she has a wonderful daughter and a perfect husband. What more could anyone want? He's a popular journalist, who loves his job. He has a beautiful girlfriend and good friends. Unexpected and inexplicable events force the protagonists to look at their lives with different eyes; after all, sometimes, one meeting, even in a dream, is enough to understand that the main thing in life is to find that unique someone with whom you feel whole - your soul mate.

This book is about love and true friendship, travel, inexplicable events, where reality and fiction intertwine in amazing ways; and where the protagonists' thoughts about life, their interesting dialogues and humor will "compel" the reader to draw out the pleasure of reading this unusual story, savoring every word in a conscious effort to delay the conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.McMay
• Release date: May 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223665434

Book preview

Chapter 1.

May was sitting at the table of her favorite cafe and, as usual, gazing out the window. The walls of the ancient castle looked especially majestic today: the rain had just stopped, and the castle, still wet from the rain, seemed dark and foreboding. A huge, heavy black cloud had gathered over the castle, and a downpour was only a matter of time. May recalled Monica's words: Things can't always be good, so it was only a matter of time before Martin and I broke up. She couldn't get her girlfriend's phrase out of her head: it kept spinning and buzzing in her head like an annoying fly. Knowing May's habit of drinking coffee in this cafe each morning, Monica popped in for a chat, which basically meant dumping on May everything that she had accumulated over the week and then taking off, lightly leaping over the puddles, flashing her elegant silver heels. May thought for a moment: Monica and Martin were her close friends, a wonderful couple. May herself had designed their wedding rings, staying up nights trying to come up with an unusual design to reflect the characters of the future owners: Monica's lightness and impetuousness; Martin's kindness and rugged manliness. May looked at her ring: it was silver – her favorite metal – thin, in the shape of a rising wave, with a turquoise stone set on the largest loop. A flood of memories swept over her: here she is, ten years ago, walking with Arthur along the waterfront, when he suddenly stops, kisses her, puts this ring on her finger, and whispers something with a very serious face – because of the noise of the raging sea, he had to shout his marriage proposal twice, which amused them both very much.

Ma'am, would you like to try our new dessert? - asked the waiter, interrupting May's thoughts.

Thanks, maybe next time, - replied May, putting her laptop and other things in her bag. See you tomorrow, then, - the waiter smiled. Okay, say hi to Maria for me, - said May because she knew the owner of this place well – she had been a regular here for more than two years.

Here, in her native Edinburgh, rain was the order of the day; while she walked back to her studio (and she loved walking –you'd be better off making footwear for hiking, not designing jewelry, - her husband would often tell her), the rain showed itself in all its myriad glory: as a fine drizzle, as large drops pounding pedestrians, and as a gushing torrent just as May entered her office.

May's studio was her heart and soul, a part of her being: bright, warm, where everything was furnished to her taste. May found the designer herself –she turned out to be a retired woman, who had decided to try something completely new for herself – interior design. She had only one project under her belt - an insurance company office. But as soon as May saw her work on one of the social networks, she immediately realized that, if this woman could make a cozy, unusual room out of a boring, pedantic pale-beige office, bringing together stone, wood, metal and flowers, all the while maintaining a properly business-like atmosphere conducive to trust, this was exactly the person for her. The designer, despite her lack of professional experience and, most likely, thanks to her rich life experience, turned out to be an unusually sensitive artist: after just a couples of hours chatting together in May's favorite cafe, she somehow managed to understand all of May's wishes, to see what her office – her emotional and creative outlet –should look like. Only a month had passed, and May took great pleasure in creating her jewelry in a bright, new designer space.

May loved her work – ever since childhood, she had an intuitive sense which piece of jewelry would suit her cousin best, and which one would suit her mom. Once, she bought a large daisy-shaped brooch for her mom's birthday and remade it herself: after breaking it, she tore off several petals (this wasn't difficult), pulled out the frosted yellow glass imitating the flower heart, and remade the brooch into a starfish. It turned out surprisingly beautiful. For many years, this brooch remained her mom's favorite accessory. She once asked May: Why a starfish?, I don't know... - May replied at the time. I think because my middle name, as you know, is Stella, which means star. By the way, your grandfather would always call me my little star and, knowing my love for the sea, would add my starfish. In subsequent years, many an accessory were re-envisioned and recreated by May anew – rings, bracelets, chains, even a few tiaras for girlfriends. She always sensed which ornament, which stone, which motif would best suit this or that future accessory owner. That's why there was never any question about what profession May would pursue in the future – she always knew that she would be a jewelry designer. May's father didn't regard this as a serious profession, and tried his best to talk her out of it (and a gifted persuader he was, being a prominent lawyer and a great rhetorician), directing her to the true path", which, in his view, was law. May didn't even bother to argue – she just applied and went for a year to Italy, where her university of choice was located, and successfully graduated, having received infinitely valuable knowledge and experience. Likewise, she completed her internship there – in the jewelry studio of the family company headed by a most benevolent gentleman by the name of Massimo, whose family photo now hung on the wall of her studio.

May looked at another photo: happy family - that's what Arthur called it. This was May's favorite picture: she's laughing and looking at Arthur, whose gaze is directed at her. He's so full of love and tenderness! In his arms, Arthur is holding little Alice, who's three years old at the time – simply a little miracle with big grey eyes and rosy cheeks. Alice is looking at May and reaching out to her mom with her whole being. Her husband's gentle gaze and her daughter's loving gaze are reflected in May's green eyes with a soft light. The photo wasn't taken by a professional; on the contrary, an ordinary passerby agreed to snap a picture of them during an outing.

May recalled Monica's words: Things can't always be good, so it was only a matter of time before Martin and I broke up. Are things really so good between her and Arthur? For May, there wasn't a shadow of a doubt – everything was good; when she was with Arthur, she was always good. He was a remarkably erudite and reliable person, always ready to listen to her and offer advice; when she was with him, she felt like a little girl, at times, even a silly little girl, which she personally found very amusing. Tall, broad-shouldered (he was an avid swimmer since childhood), polite and always flashing a friendly smile, Arthur attracted the attention of women, especially when they learned that he was also a successful lawyer. May called him a ladies' man, but only behind his back because, hearing her call him this once, Arthur very firmly asked May never to use that phrase again. May's reflections were suddenly interrupted by the phone. This was a common occurrence – as soon as she started thinking about Arthur, he'd immediately appear; he'd either call or suddenly pop into her studio – as always, dressed immaculately in a business suit, tall, and smelling of expensive cologne, stirring poorly concealed admiration in May's young assistant.

Hello, Sunshine - Arthur greeted May. How are you doing? Wanted to hear your voice, you okay? I'll free up a bit earlier today, and then go to my parents, pick up Alice. I plan to be back tomorrow after four, closer to five. Is that alright with you? May had no objections; in fact, she was even glad to have the day to herself. She'd have a chance to read that book she bought the other day at the used bookstore. No one would bother her: she'd have a glass of red wine, turn on her favorite opera tenors, and cuddle up with her book. She tried to reply with restraint, lest she betray her excitement at the thought of an unexpected one-day vacation. However, she failed to take into account her husband's powerful intuition. He always saw right through her: Don't get too excited, you won't have time to do everything you have in mind - he said, laughing. May laughed out loud in response, noticing out of the corner of her eye how her assistant, Annette, was listening to their conversation.

Yes, she definitely feels good with him, although she was a little annoyed by Arthur's constant planning – he was always doing everything according to plan, and his favorite phrases were plan, I plan, according to plan. However, it must be said that he, in turn, took great pains not to disrupt other people's plans, treating them with respect and understanding.

Annette, bring me those postcards with pictures of plants, - asked May. She was thinking about a new jewelry collection dedicated to plants. Her previous marine collection had been very successful. She was still receiving orders to produce pieces from that series, but May was already eager to start making new sketches. She couldn't decide on the theme of the new collection – she had many ideas, but none of them seemed to stick and inspire her.

Chapter 2.

With the well-rehearsed, automatic movements of a professional traveler, Michael folded his small suitcase, checked his documents, and settled into an armchair with his phone while waiting for a taxi to the airport. He was going to Edinburgh, where he had to film a story about the city's unique features, its positive and negative aspects, including those hidden from the first glance of inexperienced tourists, as well as to participate in a photo exhibition, which included two of his works. Michael was a travel journalist – a job which combined all his passions at once: traveling, meeting new people, experiencing new cultures, trying new dishes. Since childhood, he adored travelling by plane; the flights themselves were an adventure because, during the flight, you could watch cartoons, stare at other passengers, play games, drink soda without limit, as long as you didn't bother your parents. And Michael was only too happy not to bother them. These days, he no longer drank so much soda, but he eagerly absorbed everything else from each flight, each conversation. With the curiosity of his dormant inner artist, he peered into the faces of everyone he met, noted the unique qualities of their voices, intonations, and the expressions they used. Michael was fascinated by people – all people; he was certain that there was a deeper meaning behind all his encounters, that no meeting was accidental, and that he should take advantage of this unique opportunity and understand exactly why this or that person crossed his path. Michael got to know people with a kind of childlike ease, and read information from them like a scanner. It was as if he spent his whole life collecting images that would be of use to him in the future. Once, during a birthday party, thanking his many friends for their warm and kind wishes, Michael said something, which he later thought about very often: Whatever it is that you value in me, you should know that you have only yourselves and each other to thank, because within myself I've gathered parts from each and every one of you. Indeed, like some mad collector, Michael selected certain qualities, features, and habits which he borrowed, processing them in his own way and applying them in his life. Michael always wondered: does everyone do this, or was this his unique thing? This wasn't a skill he had to work on, it wasn't based on experience or acquired during a long and difficult life journey; on the contrary, Michael was literally born with it.

Michael's father, Peter Price, had worked in banking all his life, and was a man with an encyclopedic perspective and a sharp analytical mind. As a child, Michael was never able to tell a lie looking into his eyes, as his father immediately figured him out. Perhaps that's why Michael had equal respect for the ability to lie and the to tell the truth.

Peter Price never aspired to high positions, fancy offices, numerous subordinates and supporting staff; therefore, he retired having reached a senior managerial position in the risk analysis department. This, however, did not prevent him from accumulating a solid capital and earning a hefty pension. Through his actions and treatment of his wife, Michael's father tried to set an example for his son, and, indeed, for everyone around him. Michael's mom, Victoria Price (Victoria Korneeva), was the daughter of Russian immigrants. Michael always regretted that he never had a chance to meet his grandparents on his mother's side, since they died before his birth. However, through his mom, of course, they passed on to Michael a knowledge of the Russian language; thus, although