Way to go Bon-bon. I cringed. Sterling would have done a better job. Time to start polishing up the old resumé.
Reaching the door, I grabbed the handle but didn’t depress the lever to open it. I stayed in place and stared down at my red shoes, which, truth be told, Ihadactually worn to impress him, and breathed in and out.
Is it a mistake to leave? Should I go back and ask for a second chance?
Creatives could be moody and difficult—I’d learned that over the past few years. And I never should have accused him of cowardice. I could go back in there, apologize, sign the stupid contract, and do a boring bare-bones interview that might at least save my job.
That wasifhe wasn’t already on the phone with my boss, telling her his version of our meeting. Which, let’s face it, he probably was.
The thought of apologizing turned my stomach. Jack was a jerk, plain and simple.
A gainfully employed jerk who would be just fine with or without this interview.
Unlike you—a salaried employee who lives paycheck to paycheck. Whose disabled father depends on her.
Ugh.Whycouldn’t Jack have been charming, and brilliant, and witty, and wonderful like his writing? I’d thought the worst that could happen today was a repeat performance of my tweeny fan-girling.
That was nothing compared to this disaster.
A voice behind me caused me to spin around. Not a menacing, growly voice, but a soft, motherly tone. Mrs. Potts was skittering across the foyer toward me, concern painting her face.
“Leaving already, dear? Did you get everything you needed for your article?”
I sighed. “Unfortunately, things didn’t go too well. I made him angry, and he basically kicked me out.”
“Oh no.”
She wrung her hands together, leaning in and lowering her voice. “
Jackcanbe a bit brittle. You mustn’t blame yourself, though. He isn’t quite himself these days. He wasn’t always like that, you know. He has such a good side. I wish you’d met him a couple years ago—such a fun-loving, wonderful, generous man. And never was there a sweeter, more thoughtful child.”
That piqued my interest. “You’ve known him that long?”
“Oh yes. I started babysitting Jack and his younger brother Hunter when they were just boys. They were only eight and ten when their mother passed. We were neighbors, you see. I’d been friendly with their mother, God rest her soul, and I volunteered to watch the boys after school when she took ill. It wasn’t long until I started working for their father full-time. He was positively lost after his wife died so young like that, leaving him alone with two young children.”
“I can imagine.” My father was lost without my mom, too, and she hadn’t died tragically young.
My parents had shared forty years of marriage and had raised Rachel and me as a team. Doing it all alone while in a state of grief seemed like an impossible task.
Mrs. Potts glanced back over her shoulder as if checking to see whether the coast was clear. “You know, I was just about to have a cup of tea in the kitchen. If you don’t have to rush off, perhaps you’d like to join me?”
I started to turn down her offer. “I should probably just get back to the hotel…”
But she interrupted, continuing her thought as if I hadn’t said anything. “I could tell you some stories from Jack’s childhood. Oh, those two boys—they were sweethearts, but they got into a few scrapes as well.”
That’s when it hit me. A way to salvage this disaster of a day and maybe even get a decent article out of it.
I could shift the focus to Jack’s early life, turn it into more of a “Making of a Writer” piece, filled with childhood anecdotes about the nascent bestseller.
Maybe Mrs. Potts could even scrounge up a few childhood photos of Jack.
My heart began a slow rise from the soles of my feet toward its proper anatomical position. I gave her a grateful smile.
“A cup of tea would be lovely.”
“Excellent. And perhaps we could even persuade Monsieur Laplume to part with a slice or two of his famous eight-layer lemon cake. So light it’ll melt on your tongue.”
“Sounds delicious,” I said, but it was the promise of stories about Jack that made my mouth water.
