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Dear Jess, the best is yet to come.”
    In due time the tea was consumed, and the girls adjourned to Esther’s study, away from the prying eyes of the maids. Esther advised Jessamine that, to strengthen the charm, she should write the inscription on the valentine in her own hand.
    â€œWhat shall it be?” Jessamine murmured. “What few words can possibly capture the feelings I have for Edward?” Jessamine was silent for a moment, staring forlornly out the window while Esther forced herself to keep her scathing comments unsaid. “What about Shakespeare?”
    â€œNo!” Esther blurted. Dear Lord, she never wanted to hear the Bard’s name mentioned ever again. “I mean, everyone uses Shakespeare. Why don’t you try for something a bit more personal?” Esther approached her bookcase, and selected a well-worn volume. “Why not Plato?”
    â€œPlato!” Jessamine exclaimed. “How would that dusty old Greek be more personal?”
    â€œHe’s one of the classics.”
    â€œAs is Shakespeare!”
    â€œBut, dear Jess, we can do much better than that.” Esther reluctantly replaced the volume of Plato’s writings and trailed her hands across the spines. She loved her books, the soft leather bindings, the scent of the pages and ink… “Why not something from Spenser?” she suggested, her fingertips having alighted upon The Faerie Queene .
    â€œI think I’d like something a bit more modern,” Jessamine said with a pout. Esther refrained from mentioning that Shakespeare had been dead for centuries, and continued to peruse her bookshelf.
    â€œPerhaps Byron?” offered Jessamine. Esther’s expression was sufficient to silence the lovesick girl.
    â€œAh! What about something from Scott?”
    They selected a quote from Ivanhoe , and Jessamine practiced it a few times with standard ink. Once she’d gotten her script elegant but not too flowery, she inscribed the quotation on the center of the card. They sipped sherry while they waited for the ink to dry, and then Esther proclaimed the spell complete.
    â€œOh, Essie!” Jessamine proclaimed as she flung her arms about Esther’s neck. “Thank you so much! I’ll make you a bridesmaid at our wedding!”
    After Jessamine left, her way to Edward’s heart clutched in her dainty hand, Esther refilled her sherry glass (something she normally wouldn’t do in the middle of the day, at least not when Father was home) and gazed at the leavings of her valentine creation. When she went to Father’s shop for supplies, she was dismayed to learn that paper doilies only came in bundles of one gross, and colored crepe paper in a stack so thick Esther despaired she’d never use it all. Now, as she gazed at the bits of lace and spools of ribbon strewn across her desk, she wondered if she hadn’t divined a way to make her own fortune.

    Esther persuaded her father to order additional supplies from the Continent, spending her small savings on the new venture. While she waited for the materials to arrive, Esther perfected her watercolor techniques. There would be no cut-rate pastels on her cards! No, hers would feature elegant doves, a ribbon stretched between their beaks, delicately rendered bouquets of roses and lilies, and other refined symbols of love.
    After the much-anticipated packages arrived, Esther quickly completed a few mock-ups for her father’s shops. After all, he’d thought all along that she was doing this as a business venture. Well, she was, but not the sort he imagined. Her delighted surprise when her brother, the salesman, returned from his latest business trip with five thousand dollars’ worth of orders contained a modest amount of triumph.
    Of course, this led to the problem of constructing five thousand dollars’ worth of valentines. Knowing that she couldn’t employ her servants for such precise work, Esther