Chapter Thirteen
B urke burst through the heavy wooden door of the cabin, leaving behind a trail of snow on the weathered hardwood floor. With a sigh of relief, he peeled off his snow-covered beanie, then ran his hand through his damp, disheveled hair.
The winter storm had dumped another four inches of snow since he had cleared the driveway with his new snowblower in the early hours of the morning.
An indulgent purchase for sure, but still cheaper than hiring someone to come plow or shovel every time it snowed.
Besides, he needed to do whatever he could to carve out more time to write.
He had less than a month until his deadline.
He’d spent the last two days since his visit with Denise at Alpenglow Espresso pouring every spare ounce of his time and energy into drafting a new manuscript. One hundred and fifty-five pages in and he’d never felt more inspired, more eager to get back to creating his first draft.
Adrenaline zipped through his veins as he shed all his outerwear, hung it up to dry, and then toed off his boots.
He’d just dropped Darby Jane off at school and made it home with three minutes to spare before his crucial video call with Stephanie.
He padded into the kitchen and quickly reheated a cup of coffee from the pot he’d brewed before breakfast. Doubts began to nag at him.
Would Stephanie see the potential in his idea?
Or would she shoot it down as just another unoriginal concept?
The pressure was on, and he couldn’t afford any missteps.
He had to convince her that this could be a massive bestseller.
Because he sensed deep in his bones that his encounters with the Wright family and decades-old family feuds provided the kind of intrigue readers loved.
He’d tried, but he couldn’t ignore an idea that had woken him from a dead sleep more than once.
A concept that stole his thoughts when he was supposed to be paying attention to Darby Jane.
After retrieving his mug from the microwave, he slid into his chair at the kitchen table, then opened his laptop and found the link for the video call.
A moment later, Stephanie appeared on screen, seated at her desk and wearing a crisp white collared button-up under a teal blazer.
He caught a glimpse of Charleston through the window behind her.
Envy slithered in. Before long, it would be spring in South Carolina.
Warm breeze blowing off the water, azaleas blooming, and not a flake of snow in sight.
No. There’s no going back. Remember?
“Good morning.” Burke held up his coffee on camera and flashed his most charming smile. “At least it’s still morning here.”
“Hello, Burke.”
Her inscrutable expression and polite smile made him shift in his chair. Had she reviewed the new plot summary he’d emailed her yesterday? Did she like it? His heart thrummed in his chest.
“So? What did you think?”
She scratched at her cheek with a well-manicured fingernail, a sure sign that she was not impressed.
His palms turned clammy.
“I’m thrilled that your creative juices are flowing and you’ve produced new content, but I have to say, this is a last-minute change that might not work in your favor.”
He stifled a groan. “How can you say that? This is a phenomenal concept.”
“But it’s not a domestic thriller.” She looked down and riffled some papers. “It’s more of a mishmash between a family saga and historical fiction.”
“Those are popular elements that readers adore. Right?”
Stephanie let out a small sigh and shook her head. “I don’t know. Seems to me you’re reaching here, and time is of the essence. We can’t expect your team at the publishing house to bend to your whims.”
Irritation zipped through him like a bobsled careening down a slick run. “This isn’t a whim.”
She blinked twice, clearly taken aback by his tone.
Frustrated, he took a sip of his coffee to buy time and gather his thoughts.
He had always been straightforward and respectful in his professional interactions.
Was it the looming deadline that made Stephanie risk-averse?
He valued her perspective, but he still felt so passionate about this concept.
He couldn’t compromise. “I know I’m testing your patience, and I understand the consequences if this doesn’t work out, but I have to trust my instincts. This idea is too brilliant to let go.”
Stephanie leaned forward with a serious expression. Her intense gaze matched her professional tone. “As we’ve discussed before, you haven’t delivered. There won’t be another chance for an extension.”
“But I’m making progress now. This could be the book that sells millions of copies. Just look at Nicholas Sparks. He’s built a successful career on writing heart-wrenching love stories.”
“You’re not Nicholas Sparks,” she countered. “You are bound by contract to deliver what you promised.”
“So you’re telling me you’ve never had a client sweep in at the last minute with a brilliant idea that went on to be a best-selling novel?”
Stephanie opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Her gaze skittered away from the camera. “I can’t say that it’s never happened, but it’s a long shot.”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m a single dad who already survived the unimaginable loss of my wife and our baby. Overcoming obstacles is kind of my thing.”
A small smile tugged at Stephanie’s lips as she looked up at him. “As your literary agent, it’s my job to give you sound advice and guide you toward success. I want what’s best for you.”
“But let’s not forget that you also stand to gain from any potential success.”
Stephanie’s smile faltered slightly before she regained her composure. “Yes, there is that. And I consider myself partially responsible for preventing you from failing.”
“I was already teetering on the brink of failure,” Burke said. “That other story idea? I mean, I’m not going to say it’s garbage, but it’s not the story I want to write. I don’t feel passionate about it. Maybe in the future, I will.”
“Do you feel passionate about the idea you just sent me?”
“Absolutely. This is the story I want to tell right now, and the one that I can write under pressure and deliver on time. If I send you a full proposal, will you please look it over and then pitch it to my editor?”
Stephanie wrinkled her nose. “Burke, I—”
“I’m aware of what I’m asking, and I understand what’s at stake.
” He lowered his voice and infused it with as much persuasiveness as he could muster.
“Stephanie, please. Just give my proposal a read-through, and if you’re not at all moved by the story and eager to read more, then by all means, we’ll go back to the original idea. ”
“You just said you hated it and you didn’t want to write it.”
“ Hate is a strong word. If that ends up being the manuscript I need to deliver, then I can make that happen. But it will be very much a formulaic effort. Nothing unique or especially—”
Stephanie covered her ears. “Stop, just stop talking.”
“So is that a yes , then?”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Honestly, this whole thing is insane.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “I know, but it’s also brilliant.”
“At least we agree on something,” she grumbled before meeting his gaze again. “Fine, I’ll read your new proposal.”
Burke pumped his fist in triumph. “Yes! Thank you, Stephanie.”
“I’ll need it by end of day tomorrow.”
“Consider it done.”
She ended the call, and he opened the file for his latest story idea, still chuckling. She’d agreed.
But then guilt walloped him. Jovi probably hadn’t given up on her quest to find her grandmother’s missing iconic recipe.
Would she be angry if she found out he’d incorporated that into his story?
He promptly gave those thoughts a mental shove.
Wasn’t like he was stealing intellectual property.
This was a unique idea, a story he’d crafted all on his own based on details he’d observed since arriving in town.
Besides, what if, in writing this book, he uncovered the secrets that had divided both their families for decades? Wouldn’t she be grateful?
And did it even matter, considering she’d kissed him and then pushed him away?
This was his chance at redemption and repairing their families’ broken relationship.
And deep down, he believed this story had huge potential.
He couldn’t walk away from it now, even if it meant he had to write for sixteen hours a day.
Time for him to leave behind his desert of writer’s block and create something truly remarkable.
* * *
“Jovi. Wait.” Sabrina Johnson’s voice echoed through the church atrium.
Jovi hesitated. A few more steps and she’d be out the door and on her way to lunch.
She had been looking forward to a relaxing afternoon spent with Danielle and her family, away from the chaos that seemed to follow her everywhere.
But she couldn’t ignore Sabrina. Her tone had sounded urgent.
They’d grown up together and been friends until they lost touch after high school.
Jovi turned around and saw Sabrina standing near the tall faux wood table that served as the church’s informal welcome center, gesturing for her to come closer. “Do you have a few minutes? I need your help.”
Jovi crossed the room and greeted her petite blonde friend with a quick hug. “Hi, Sabrina. It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” Sabrina’s dangly earrings bobbed as she pulled back. Her friendly smile faded. “And I know this is super last-minute, but if I don’t find one more female chaperone, we’ll have to cancel our ski trip tomorrow.”
Jovi stifled a groan. Chaperoning so wasn’t her thing.
Memories of loud music, eating too much junk food, not sleeping and people coping with motion sickness filled her head.
Ugh. Just…no. Sabrina had the biggest heart, though.
It was hard to say no to someone who volunteered to run the kids’ ministry program.