Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
AVA
By Friday everybody in the office seems a little calmer.
I’ve almost caught up with the work I missed over my vacation, which already seems like it happened in a different lifetime.
I also feel like I’ve become Myles Salinger’s personal reporting puppy.
Every twenty minutes he’s either messaging me – or if I don’t answer quickly enough, bellowing at me from his office door – asking where different files are.
The sooner we get everything fully automated the better. Luckily, the IT team in New York seems much nicer than Myles. They actually know how to smile on the occasions that I’ve been on videoconferences with them.
It’s almost lunchtime when my phone lights up, and Richard’s name flashes across the screen. I’ve been calling him since Monday. Mostly to check that he’s okay but also because I can’t believe everything changed so quickly while I was away.
“Richard?” I say once I’ve swiped my thumb to accept the call.
“Ava!” He sounds jolly. Almost intoxicated. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls, we just got into port.”
“Port?” I frown. “Where are you?”
He gives a little chuckle. “Funny story, but we’re in Spain. If we’d have done it a couple of weeks ago we could have met up.”
“Yes, but we weren’t supposed to vacation at the same time,” I point out. I frown because he sounds so… chipper.
Not like a man who’s devastated because he just lost his job.
I know I should be pleased that he’s happy. Richard gave me my job. He’s been my mentor as well as my friend. As he keeps telling me, he’s not getting any younger.
But I never expected him to be this upbeat.
“Ah, regrets, I have a few,” he says. “One of them wasn’t taking enough vacation time. Don’t be like me, Ava. Enjoy life. I fear I’ve waited too long.”
“But you’re only sixty-two,” I point out. “You’ve got plenty of years ahead of you.”
“And there’s so much of the world to see. I spent my whole life thinking the answer was between the pages of a book when it was out here all along.”
“The answer to what?” I frown, because this is so un-Richardlike.
“To happiness.”
I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “So, you’re happy?” I ask.
“Delighted. Never been happier,” he tells me.
“And you’re not upset over losing your job?” I clarify.
“No, no. It’s all good,” he says, sounding way too jovial. “I needed the push to make a change. The only reason I stayed was to take care of you all. And now that Eleanor’s tests have come back all clear, it’s like a brand new start for us both.”
“They came back clear?” I repeat. “I’m so happy for you.” It’s wonderful news for them. I know he’s been worried about her.
“Thank you. And you?” he asks. “You’re happy, right? You told me you didn’t want to be considered for my job whenever I left.”
I take a deep breath. “I told you I had some other things going on in my life, so for the short term I needed to concentrate on those—”
“Exactly!” Richard booms. “That’s what I told Jean-Baptiste. That in no way, shape, or form did you want to be running Smith and Carson. That’s why they sent Salinger over. He’s a good man, he knows what he’s doing.”
I blink. Are we talking about the same Salinger? “Well he certainly seems to be busy,” I say.
“Oh wait! Eleanor wants to say hello.” There’s a rustle before his wife’s sweet voice echoes down the line.
“Ava,” she says. “How are you, darling? Did you have a good vacation?”
“Um, yeah.” I blink. “Are you okay?”
“I’m wonderful. First thing we did when Richard got the pay-out was book the cruise of our dreams. We’ve been to Italy and Greece, now we’re in Spain. It’s wonderful. Everything I hoped for.”
“That’s lovely,” I say.
“It must have been a shock for you coming back to find Richard gone,” she says, sounding sympathetic.
“It was rather,” I admit.
“But you’re okay now?” she asks. “Richard’s been worried about you.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I say. “Absolutely fine.”
“I told you,” I hear her say to Richard. “Probably the best thing that happened to them. Change is as good as rest.”
“I should let you go,” I tell her. “International calls are expensive.”
She laughs. “So true. Stay safe, darling. We’ve sent you a postcard.”
“Thank you. You too.” I end the call and open my top drawer, pulling a fun-size chocolate bar out of my emergency stash. Then I tear open the wrapper and shove the whole thing in my mouth at once.
It doesn’t make me feel much better.
“You ask her,” somebody whispers. I’m staring at my laptop screen, scrutinizing the copy edits that will be sent to Naomi tomorrow.
They have to be perfect because a lot is riding on this year’s release.
Dandy the Lion needs to show Mediatech exactly how important this small publishing house is to them.
And the best way to do it is by having a stellar release season.
We’ll release Dandy’s book in October, ready to capture the Christmas sales. The two-person marketing team is already working on a huge publicity campaign. We’ve upped the budget because this one needs to stick.
And I promised Naomi that nothing would change now that Richard has left. Like me, she doesn’t like change. I could tell on the phone that she was anxious about everything that was happening, but I tried to reassure her it would be fine.
And it will. Even if it kills me.
“No, you do it. It was your idea,” another voice replies, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“But you agreed to it. Come on, we’ve suffered for long enough, somebody needs to do this.”
I look up from my laptop to see a small crowd gathered around my desk. It’s already late afternoon and my day has passed in a blur of spreadsheets and conference calls peppered with the occasional presence of Mr. Angry himself.
I’ve been juggling the Dandy project along with liaising with the IT department at Mediatech.
None of them can quite believe the age of the systems we’ve been using, and they’ve loudly voiced that it’s a miracle we haven’t had a security issue before now.
They’re planning on releasing a new upgrade next week, which I’m hoping will mean I can concentrate on my proper work and not spend every night working until my eyes can’t stay open any more.
I haven’t read a single new manuscript this week, which means I’ll be taking them all home for some weekend reading. Our release plans for this year are fully formed, but next year is still wide open so we should be talking to printers and stores and distributors, not to mention schools.
I sigh because the thought of all this extra work is making my chest feel tight.
I’d hoped I would have been able to talk quietly to Richard about my plans for pregnancy so we could work together on a ramp-down plan for my short maternity leave.
But instead, I can’t see any end in sight to this heavy, heavy workload.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“It’s like this,” Ryan says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Everybody thinks you should ask Myles about Fizzy Fridays.”
“They do? Why?” I scan the crowd of expectant faces.
“Because we haven’t had them for the last two weeks and they’re a Smith and Carson institution. We accept below-market pay and terrible IT equipment purely on the basis that we get free champagne on a Friday.”
“And it’s not even good champagne,” Ella the intern points out.
“But it’s free and that makes it good,” Ryan interjects.
Actually, it’s not champagne at all. It’s a perky little cava that Richard sends me to buy in bulk from the local booze store. We keep it locked in a closet on the third floor to which only Richard and I have the key.
I guess it’s only me now.
“Please, Ava?” Ryan asks, pouting. “These past few weeks have been grueling for everybody. We need some team spirit back here. Richard may be gone, but you’re still here, so do it for us.”
Twenty pairs of eyes are trained hopefully on me. My stomach drops because I know I’m going to say yes. Even if it means walking into the lion’s den.
“If I do this, you all owe me,” I tell them.
Ryan smiles widely because he knows he has me. “Of course,” he says smoothly. “Anything you want.”
“I’m keeping you to that.” Sighing, I push my chair away from my desk and stand up, smoothing out my skirt so it doesn’t wrinkle around my upper thighs.
Since my confrontation with Myles outside the office on Monday night, and his comment about my workout gear, I’ve been agonizing over what to wear each morning.
It’s so easy for guys, they just put on a suit or a shirt and pants and they’re done.
Women have too many choices and I fear I made the wrong one this morning.
At home, the red skirt and black shirt made me look like a professional woman who doesn’t take crap from anybody. But the lining of the skirt keeps edging up my thighs and the stupid, tiny buttons on my shirt keep coming loose.
Basically, I look like I’m trying to seduce, not impress.
It’s uncomfortable and for the first time in fifteen years I got wolf whistles as I walked to work. Or stumbled. Whatever.
“Maybe you should button your blouse,” Ryan suggests helpfully as I gear myself up to see Mr. Angry. He was out of the office all morning – I’ve no idea where – then he stormed in just after lunch and slammed his door behind him without saying hello to anybody.
Ignoring Ryan’s suggestion, I walk the short distance to Myles’ office door and lift my hand to rap on it. But then I feel warm breath on my neck. I turn around to see that everybody’s followed me.
“Um, would you all mind going back to your desks? If I’m going to do this I don’t need an audience.”
They look disappointed as they file back to their seats. Even Ryan’s shoulders are slumped. I guess they find my interactions with Myles Salinger entertaining.
I wish I did.
A moment after I knock on his door, I hear Myles’ low voice saying something that I assume means it’s okay for me to enter. Taking a deep breath, I push it open and smile because this time I need something from him.