“You hungry? I thought I might order some food in,” he asked.
“Sure, sounds good,” she said distractedly.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about home.”
He looked at her questioningly.
“We have all these holiday traditions. Thursday is Thanksgiving, Friday is the bonfire, Saturday we put up the tree and all decorate it together. Gran makes ridiculously strong eggnog and mom makes this really great spiced cider. We eat leftover desserts and laugh and everybody gets along for one night. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I never thought about it before, but dad would always spend the night on this night. I’ve always woken up to find him puttering around in the kitchen in a navy robe that’s hung on the back of my mother’s bathroom door for as long as I can remember.” She sighed. “Now Jenny is gone and I’m married, sort of, and everything’s just… changing.”
“Sounds like everyone’s growing up,” he said gently.
She huffed. “When did you get so philosophical?”
He chuckled. “I have my moments. You know what would cheer you up?”
“Chocolate cake?” she asked hopefully.
He laughed. “No. Why don’t you take a look at your surprise?”
“Oh! I’d almost forgotten.” Liz sprang up and ran into the living room where the enormous box was standing on end next to the window.
She quickly grabbed a pair of scissors and pulled the sides down as fast as she could. After she’d pulled back the protective white covering, she stood back and gasped.
“My tree! How did you…?”
“Your father said you had a tradition of choosing the tree for his house and that this was the one you picked out this year. We thought it might help you feel more at home.”
Before he finished his sentence, Liz launched herself into his arms, her face buried in his neck. “Thank you,” she breathed.
“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get it in water.”
Liz happily went about setting up the tree and fished out the decorations she’d chosen from her mother’s gift shop that morning. Every year, Loretta had each of her girls choose an ornament which she then inscribed their names and the year on. This year, Liz chose two, a star for her and a gingerbread man for Will. Her mother also gave them a shiny silver heart that had their names and wedding date written in a lovely flowing script in the center.
“What’s that?” Will asked as he saw her staring at the shiny ornaments.
“Oh, my mom gave this to us.” She handed him the heart. “And I picked these out for us. It’s a family tradition.”
He smiled when he saw the gingerbread man with his name on it. “Very fitting,” he said.
“I thought so.” She smiled and hung the heart on the tree.
27
Internship
Early December
7.5 Months Married
Liz was walking out of class one day when she got a text on her phone.
Mary: A small department store was just delivered to my house. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?
Liz laughed.
Liz: Merry Christmas! I just saw a few things I thought the kids would enjoy. That’s what family is for! It’s my job to spoil them.
Mary: Seriously, Lizzy, you didn’t have to do all this. But thank you. It’s a huge blessing.
Liz: Good, I’m glad I was able to help.
Mary: The kids are having a blast opening everything and figuring out who gets what. They’re not happy they have to wait to open the Christmas gifts.
Liz: Of course! What child enjoys waiting!?
Mary: OMG! Did you buy me a coat?! From Nordstrom’s!?!? LIZZY!!
Liz: I thought it would look good on you. If it doesn’t fit, there’s a gift receipt in the package. You should be able to exchange it.
Mary: You are the best cousin EVER!!!
Liz: Haha! You deserve it! Send me a pic of you wearing it.
Two minutes later, she was looking at a photo of a beaming Mary wearing her new coat and twirling happily. She’d also sent pictures of the kids wearing their new coats. Liz smiled and put her phone away, pleased with her good deed and the fact that someone she loved was benefiting from her decision to marry Will. It helped with the niggling fear she sometimes had that this whole thing was a really bad idea that was certain to land her in jail. She shook her head and skipped down the steps to the subway.
What’s done is done, Lizzy. Now make it count.
**
Since they’d returned from Virginia, Harper felt like Liz had been her old self again, but somehow better. Sweeter, nicer to him, bolder in her words and actions. He was thrilled they weren’t fighting any longer and basked in the warmth of her affection once more.
The week her final projects were due, she took to watching mindless television on the sofa in the living room and when Will got home, she’d hold open the quilt she was snuggled underneath and invite him to sit beside her. They’d munch popcorn and make fun of modeling and fashion reality shows, Liz’s I’m-too-stressed-to-function programs of choice. He found her guilty pleasure amusing and her need to cuddle endearing. He knew there were other things he could or should be doing, but it was only for the final week of the semester.
The holidays had always been an odd time of year for him, and he found her innocent need to hold him and be held surprisingly comforting. The honesty of it was refreshing and the knowledge that he was meeting a need of hers, that he could watch her go from stressed and frazzled to calm and relaxed through his actions, made him happy and proud, feelings he chose not to examine too closely but enjoyed nonetheless. They were friends again, and it was wonderful.
The day she turned in her last project, Liz and William were eating at the island in the kitchen, laughing and talking about their days.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. In October, my professor had to pick a few students to recommend for this really great internship next semester, and I was on the list,” Liz said as she dried her hands after putting her plate in the dishwasher.
“Wow, that's great,” said Will before he took another bite of his grilled cheese sandwich and washed it down with a swig of beer.
“That's not all. I went to the interview last month, and they are only choosing five students, and I’m one of them! I got my placement letter today. They’re putting me in nonfiction, under nature and science.” Liz waved a folded piece of paper around in front of her from the other side of the island.
“Congratulations! What sort of internship is it?”
“Editing assistant. Actually, I think it's like assistant to the assistant's assistant, and I'll probably spend most of my time fetching coffee, but I'll be in a real publishing house and make contacts and meet people that I might work with later. If they like me, they might offer me a job after graduation.”
“That's exciting.” He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Which publisher is it?”
“Carter House.”
“Carter?”
“Yeah, are you familiar with them?”
“Um, yes. You could say that.”
“Uh oh, I know that look. You're about to tell me something really bad. What is it? Is their president a horrible golfer? Does he shop at outlet stores?”
He gave her a look and she stifled her laugh. “Liz, you can't take that job,” he said seriously.
She stepped back in surprise, her expression incredulous. “What do you mean 'can't'?”
Will knew he was on dangerous ground, and their truce was so new he really didn't want to mess it up, but he had to say something. “Liz, you know Taggston Publishing?”
“Yes. It's a two-hundred-year-old publishing house with a stellar reputation. And it's under the Taggston umbrella. Which is basically you.” She gave him a questioning look.
“Carter is our top competitor. Has been for decades. You can't work for the competition.”
“What are you talking about? All publi
shers compete with each other. It's the nature of the beast,” she said.
“Not like this. Carter and Taggston have a longstanding, well, feud of sorts. It's a lot more than friendly competition.”
“A feud? Like the Hatfields and the McCoys?”
“The who?”
“Never mind.”
“Look, ages ago, a major editor left Taggston for Carter. Turns out he was about to be fired for sleeping with the vice president's wife, but no one knows that.” She looked surprised and Harper continued, “Anyway, he took a lot of authors with him and spilled a lot of company secrets to boot. That started off a battle between the two companies that hasn't abated since. We never hire anyone who's worked for them, and they do the same.”
“Isn't that a little extreme?”
“Maybe, but it's how it's always been done. Besides that, I don't like what I've heard of their business practices.”
She shot him a look with one raised brow.
“You just can't, Liz. We're married. Think how it would look. 'Taggston Heir’s Wife Goes to Work for the Competition.' It would be humiliating, not to mention the amount of explaining it would require.”
She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. Funny how your mood can change so drastically in just a few minutes, she thought. “This isn’t 1950. You can’t just tell me not to do something and expect me to just go along. This is my career, Will.”
He gave her a pleading look. “Please try to understand, Lizzy.”
She mentally counted to ten and when she felt a little more under control, she said, “Okay, so let's say I don't do the internship. I had been counting on doing one next semester and I have hours to fill in my schedule, plus I really want the experience and the contacts. What should I do? It's too late to apply for another one.”
He thought for a moment, then brightened. “Why not work for Taggston? You might not be able to do it in an official internship capacity, but you could work there part-time to gain experience, and maybe take another lit class to fill up your hours.”
She sighed. “The problem with that, William,” she stressed his name, “is that this,” she gestured between the two of them, “isn't going to last forever. By the time I graduate, we'll have been married a year. If I'm lucky enough to get a job right away, I'll have been at it a little over a year when we split up. There's no way Taggston is going to feel loyal to me after so little time. And even if they did feel some, they would never choose me over you. I would be expected to leave graciously. And depending on how the divorce is perceived, it could make other publishers wary of taking me on if they think you and your mega publishing house are holding a grudge against me.”
“I hear what you're saying, really, I do, but I think you might be taking this whole thing a little overboard. There's no reason you would need to quit Taggston. If you were doing a good job and liked it, I don't see why you couldn't stay. I have virtually nothing to do with the publishing house. We agreed we would split on irreconcilable differences, and make it known that we're still friends. We could make sure people see us having dinner together or going to the cinema or something afterward, just to make sure. You wouldn't be blackballed. I would never do that to you. I would never let my company do that to you,” he said earnestly.
She looked at him warily, her brow furrowed in thought. “But everyone there would know I got the job because of you, not on my own merit. And they would all act strangely around me. I'd be like a nark.”
“You wouldn't be a nark!”
She gave him a look.
“Okay, maybe a little bit of a nark, but we can work that out. Maybe in a specific department, or under a certain person, or something, it wouldn't be such a big issue.”
She gave him another look and he could tell she was starting to get really sad about the whole thing. He stepped closer to her and grasped her arms.
“Just think about a job at Taggston. You don't have to answer tonight. Just sleep on it for a bit and we'll talk later this week.”
She nodded and finally put down her letter. “Okay. Goodnight, Will.”
She walked down the hall, her shoulders sagging, and turned into her room. Will watched her and sighed, dropping his head to his hands and pulling his fingers through his hair. He reached across the counter for the letter she'd discarded.
Dear Ms. Barrett,
We are pleased to welcome you to the Carter House Internship Program. The Program has a long history of accepting only the most exemplary students and giving them opportunities in the publishing field. Our success rate is unparalleled; ninety-five percent of our interns go on to work in the publishing industry full-time, and many find a home right here at Carter House. We look forward to adding you to our publishing family.
He stopped reading there and put the letter down. He felt guilty now, and Will HATED feeling guilty. Liz's marriage to him was supposed to be giving her more opportunities and opening doors for her, not slamming them in her face. It was too late now to figure anything out, but in the morning, he would find a way to fix this. He had to.
**
Harper walked into his office a few minutes early the next morning and immediately buzzed Evelyn in.
“Can you get me a meeting with Arnold Billington?” Harper asked.
“The President of Taggston Publishing?” she asked, obviously surprised. HarperCo was a technology firm and Harper rarely had anything to do with the other companies under Taggston.
“Yes.”
“When would you like this meeting to take place?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Of course, sir. I'll take care of it.”
Half an hour later, Evelyn buzzed to tell him Mr. Billington would arrive at two o'clock that day. Harper thanked her and mentally went over what he was going to say and what he was going to leave out.
Arnold Billington was a contemporary of Harper's father and very good at his job, so bossing him around did not seem like a good idea, nor a palatable one. When he walked into Harper's office at precisely two o'clock in an impeccable gray suit, Harper stood and straightened his jacket, then led him to one of the club chairs by the window in an attempt to make this meeting informal.
“How are you, Arnold? How are Linda and the kids?” Will shook his hand before he sat down.
“I'm well, William, as is the family. Our youngest graduates from Dartmouth this month, so now they're all out of the nest.” Arnold Billington settled back in his chair, a genial smile on his face, but his eyes were a bit tight.
Great, his youngest kid is Liz's age. “I'll get right to the point here, Arnold. I have a little problem I could use your help with.” The older man looked intrigued. “A personal problem.”
Arnold's brows shot up in surprise. “How can I help you, son?”
Will smiled at the endearment. It wasn't surprising, many of the older executives had known him since he was in diapers, but it was a little bittersweet.
“It's my wife, Liz. You met her at the reception?”
“Yes, lovely. Spunky little thing. Great dancer.”
“Yes, she is. Well, Liz is getting her master’s in literature and she's going into her final semester. She had always planned on doing an internship, for the experience and contacts, the usual thing, and she’s received an offer, but I'm a little uncertain about her working for a rival house.”
“Who was she going to intern with?”
“Carter,” Will answered, then looked out the window at the falling rain.
“Whew, I'll bet that was a close call. So what do you want me to do? Recommend a different house? Or do you want her at Taggston?”
“I think Taggston would be best. Wherever she goes, she might be offered a job. It could create a conflict of interests for her down the road—as my wife.”
“I see what you mean. Unless she went with a small, very specialized house, we could be competing for authors and readership; it could get messy.”
“Exactly. But she's concerned that everyone at
Taggston would treat her differently because she's my wife. She doesn't want to feel like she's on the outside and not learn what she needs to, and she doesn't want special treatment either. And she didn't say this, but I'm sure she just wants to enjoy a normal internship like everyone else, without people changing their behavior around her or buddying up to her because they think they can get to the top through her.”
“I see. All valid reasons. Would she even accept a place at Taggston?”
“I don't know. I think she would if we could find a place where being my wife wouldn't influence her position, or at least not overly. Do you have a place like that?” Will asked hopefully.
Billington smiled. “I might. Let me check around. I don't handle the interns personally, but I do know that we already have them all lined up for the spring because I just reviewed the budget this morning. But there may be a slot that didn't get filled or an area that didn't have one allocated.”
“And money's no object, of course, as I'm sure you know. I know you're in the habit of paying the interns, but as I understand it, Liz wasn't going to get paid with her other offer, so don't let this throw off your budget.”
“Actually, only certain internships are paid. The others come with perks, but not much else. I'll see what I can do and get back to you tomorrow.”
“Great, thank you, Arnold, I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, William. I hope we can work something out. I'd hate for there to be trouble between you and the missus so early in your marriage.”
Will laughed uncomfortably. “You and me both.”
Arnold laughed jovially and slapped Will on the shoulder. “I'll call you tomorrow.”
**
When Harper got home that night, he found a note on the fridge from Liz. Christmas shopping with Sheila and Angie tonight in case you forgot. Leftovers are in the fridge—it’s the bowl with the pink lid.—Me
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