Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
S ummer awoke early and went for a long walk.
She had read an article which described how movement spurred creativity, and she had begun walking in New York each time before she sat down to write.
All kinds of ideas popped into her head as she did so, and she often used her voice memo app to make notes of what came to her.
By the time she returned to the house, Autumn and Eli had left for Triple H.
She would try to work from their house today.
Coffee Hour had proved that it wasn’t conducive for her getting much of anything done.
She wouldn’t have to sit behind Eli’s desk, though.
Instead, she would sit in the great room, which got a lot of natural light and would be a cheery place to work from.
If she were still here when the weather grew warmer, she might even work from the screened-in back porch, so she could soak up nature as she wrote.
Summer showered and dressed, putting her hair up in a ponytail to keep it away from her face so it wouldn’t distract her as she wrote.
She brought her laptop to the great room and had just settled in when her cell rang.
That was a rare occurrence. Her generation texted instead of calling.
The only people she had ever called on a regular basis when she was living in New York were her parents and Autumn, and she FaceTimed them.
Glancing down at her phone now, it surprised her to see Jen Adelstein’s name flashing across the screen.
Jen had been a fellow editor and Summer’s closest friend at Liberty House.
When Summer was let go, she had texted Jen and a few of her other friends at the publishing house, telling them that she was returning to Texas and going to try her hand at being a full-time novelist. She kept the text vague and said it would be better if no one contacted her for a while, hoping those she contacted would read between the lines and know not to associate themselves with her.
She had received a few texts in reply, wishing her well, and a longer one from Jen, who told her how much she had appreciated Summer’s friendship.
Jen even said she’d like to visit her in Texas someday.
Answering her phone, Summer said, “Hey, Jen. It’s good to hear from you. What are you up to?”
“I’m in the office supply closet with the light off and the door locked,” her friend said quietly.
“All kinds of rumors are swirling about your departure from Liberty House, Summer, and I figured you signed something that wouldn’t allow you to talk about why you left so fast. I’m calling because Celia Cameron needs you. ”
With her quick packing and move to Texas, Summer had almost forgotten about Celia and her promise to help the author finish her manuscript.
While she had waited a couple of hours at the airport for her flight and then on the flight itself, she had read the manuscript Celia had sent to her, correcting a few typos and adding a handful of notes to it.
The manuscript was in terrific shape, and it hadn’t needed much tweaking.
Once she had arrived home, however, she had forgotten to email her notes to Celia. It struck her now that she didn’t even have the author’s email address since she hadn’t been able to take anything with her, other than a few personal items, from Liberty House.
“What’s going on with her?” she asked, worried about the situation.
“I was passing the receptionist’s desk when I heard Sarah telling Celia that you were no longer with Liberty House.
Celia must have asked for your phone number or personal email, and Sarah said she couldn’t provide any information to her.
I got Celia’s number from Sarah so I could pass it along to you.
I know she was one of your favorite authors to work with.
Maybe you can tell her more than what you were able to tell the rest of us. ”
Summer could hear the hurt in Jen’s voice and said, “You guessed right. I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement, so I can’t discuss the exact reasons I left Liberty House with anyone other than my attorney.
It’s better if none of you get involved in this matter or stay in contact with me for a while.
I don’t want to jeopardize any of your jobs. ”
“I knew that had to be the case,” Jen said, sounding relieved.
“I’m going to text you Celia’s number. Call her and calm her down.
And I meant what I said, Summer. I would like to come and see you sometime.
I’m getting fed up with a lot of things here at Liberty House.
In the short time you’ve been gone, Millicent has been on a tear. ”
“Go back to your desk. Call me tonight when you’re home. No, I’m going to dinner with my cousin. I probably won’t be home until about nine, which is ten your time. Can we talk then?”
Jen laughed. “It’s not as if I’ll be in bed. I’m editing until midnight or later these days. Millicent is demanding more and more from her editors, and I’m fast on the road to burnout.”
“Talk to you later,” Summer said, ending the call.
A moment later, a text from Jen appeared, providing Celia’s phone number. With a bit of trepidation, she dialed the number.
“Hello?” Celia said tentatively.
“Hey, Celia. It’s Summer Sutherland.”
“Summer! What on earth has happened? I sent you an email because I did what you suggested. I actually wrote during Rob’s chemo session.
Since I had everything outlined, two chapters just flowed from me.
I wanted to email them to you so you could also look at them when you perused the rest of the manuscript.
But the email bounced back. I tried it again, and it still wouldn’t go through.
That’s when I called your extension at Liberty House, but my call wouldn’t go through.
I called the main number, and the receptionist said that you no longer were working for them.
I left her my number in the hopes she might pass it along to you. What’s going on?” Celia wailed.
“It’s a long story, and I’m not going to burden you with it, especially with all that you have on your plate,” Summer told the author.
“I did read the manuscript you sent to me. Corrected a few grammar mistakes and added my editorial notes. Celia, this is the best novel you’ve ever written, even though I haven’t seen the end of it.
And I still want to help you finish it, despite the fact I’m no longer employed by Liberty House. ”
“I got a voicemail just before you called,” Celia said. “From someone named Lauren at Liberty House. She told me that she was my new editor and that I needed to meet my March first deadline. That no matter what I’d been told previously, I had to honor the contract.”
“You still have two chapters and an epilogue to write, correct?”
“Yes,” Celia said, desperation in her voice. “Rob is so sick right now, Summer. I don’t think I can get that written, not caring for him and my kids at the same time.”
“If I sent you the manuscript with my notes, do you think you could work on making those corrections and additions?”
“Yes, if it’s not a lot,” Celia said, sounding unsure.
“I guarantee you, it’s not. What you sent is clean as a whistle.
Text me your email address. Make sure you add the number I called you on to your contacts.
It’s my personal cell number. I’ll also text you my email address.
I’ll look at the outline for the remaining chapters that you sent to me, and I’ll knock out those two chapters and the epilogue by Monday.
It’ll give you time to read through them, and then you can send in the manuscript to Lauren.
Who is a great editor, by the way. You’re lucky you were placed with her and not someone else. ”
Today was Wednesday. Summer would need to put aside her own writing in order to help Celia out of this bind.
Celia began crying. “Oh, Summer, I can’t thank you enough. I was going to dedicate this book to you anyway, but I’ll definitely do so now.”
She wanted to tell Celia not to send in that dedication, but it would be a year or so before the book saw print.
By then, she might be able to talk Celia into dedicating her book to someone else.
She didn’t want the author’s career at Liberty House tainted—or even tanked—because of Celia’s association with her former editor.
“Hanging up now. Text me your email while I print out your outline notes. I’ll send you what I’ve edited for you to clean up. You can handle it, Celia. Talk soon. Bye.”
Eli had kindly paired Summer’s laptop with his printer so that she could print anything she needed during her stay.
Summer opened the file she had saved with Celia’s outline on how to finish those last few chapters.
By the time the pages were printed, Celia had texted Summer her email address, and she turned around and sent what she had edited to the author, telling her that she would read over the latest two chapters now and send notes on them before she started writing the remainder of the book herself.
An hour later, Summer had read both chapters, made her suggestions and corrections, and sent the document back to Celia. Immediately, Celia had texted back, saying she had gotten the email.
Now that she was caught up in the manuscript, Summer looked over the notes for the upcoming chapter, glad that she had a blueprint for where Celia was going.
It didn’t surprise her that Millicent had instructed Lauren to bring the hammer down on Celia and demand that the manuscript be turned in on time.
Summer might not be able to help all her authors in this way, but at least she could help Celia, especially since her attention needed to be devoted to her husband and children more than on her writing.