“Yes, but don’t get excited. He lives in California.”
“He’s still more available than Mac,” she smiled.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was snowing when Kate left her apartment and headed uptown to meet Nicholas. Thick flakes fell from the sky and added a fresh white layer to the snow already on the ground. Part of the problem with snow in the city was that it didn’t last. In a few days, all of it would turn to slush. When it did, only ice grey, half-melted mush would be left, and trudging through it was always a problem. Kate learned soon after she moved to New York that finding sturdy boots that could take the snow and still look stylish were a must if she was going to survive in a city that had more women with shoe fetishes per capita than any other city in the world. Shoes were a statement in this city, although there were days when she missed her flip-flops.
Heaven forbid she ever admit that in public.
Hangawi was located on a tight, busy street in Korea Town. Even in the snow, hundreds of people trudged the streets. Kate pushed through her way up Thirty-Second Street on the narrow sidewalk crowded with people and conversation. She stepped into the restaurant through heavy wooden doors. Kate quickly pushed back her hood and brushed herself off. She saw Nicholas standing by the hostess—tall, blond, tan, and looking relaxed and casual. He spoke softly to the hostess who smiled and giggled, no doubt slightly smitten. Who wouldn’t be? Nicholas was, in a word, hot. He reminded her of an actor, but she couldn’t place who it was.
“Kate, great to see you!” Nicholas spotted her and strode over; he reached an arm around her wet coat, hugging her.
“Shoes!” The hostess, no doubt disappointed that Nicholas’ lunch date was with a woman, ordered Kate to take off her boots. She nearly forgot. The restaurant had a strict no shoe policy. Kate hoped her socks matched. She’d been in a rush to get out of her apartment.
Kate slipped her boots off, relieved. Both blue. The lunch already looked promising. Her phone buzzed, a text message.
“Sorry,” she threw an apologetic smile to Nicholas, “I have a big author coming in this week, and I need to be sure it’s not from one of her people.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
“Your table. I take you to your table.” The hostess seemed impatient. Kate slipped out of her coat and handed it to the impatient girl. Kate looked to see who was trying to reach her.
A text message from Mac. “Miss you.”
Kate wasn’t mad anymore. She actually hadn’t been mad at all.
Annoyed.
Connecticut.
He was in Connecticut with his family, and she was here in New York with a handsome single man who had offered to take her to lunch. Kate dropped the phone back in her purse without responding.
…
The restaurant was dim, and the tables were all set into the floor with bench-like seating that was covered with pillows. They were seated at a table behind a semi-sheer curtain. It was a small and intimate setting. Kate slid into the seat as the server arrived.
“May I get you something to drink?”
Nicholas smiled across the table at her. “Two ginger teas?”
Kate nodded, “I wish I could make it at home. It’s almost worth the trip across town just to get it.”
“It’s worth the trip from California, too. And the company makes it even better.”
A redness crept into Kate’s cheeks.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “You’re sweet to do this, Nicholas.”
“First off, call me Nick. And second, do what?”
Kate spread her hands out. “This, lunch, you know…” she hesitated for a moment. “I have a feeling Allan put you up to this. He’s been after me for years to meet his eligible nephew.”
Nick smiled, “Well, he’s been after me, too, but I only do what I one hundred percent want to. And once I met you, I knew I wanted to do this.”
His smile lit up his entire face. Kate felt her cheeks redden again.
“I’m glad you did.” She smiled back. “So, I think this is the part of the lunch where we tell each other about ourselves. Allan says you are doing something with health food?”
Nick laughed, “I love my uncle, but he has no idea what I do. I run a health food store—actually, a chain of them. After my parents died, I inherited some money and decided to invest it in something I’d always wanted to do. It paid off.”
Kate had no idea; she didn’t hide the fact that she was impressed.
“Really? I think that’s fantastic. How many stores?”
“Five. We just opened the fifth this year in San Diego. I have two in Orange County, one in Los Angeles, Irvine, and Newport Beach. It’s a lot of work, but I love it.”
Kate watched his face light up as he talked. It was obvious that he loved his work.
“Is it like a Whole Foods?” she asked.
The server came back to the table with the ginger tea and took their order.
“No, it’s very different, actually. We don’t carry produce, or anything perishable for that matter. Although I do have a bakery I work with that has started to produce a series of amazing vegan baked goods. We have a smoothie bar, though, in only one store right now, but we might expand it. Two of our stores offer Yoga and Pilates classes.” Nick chuckled softly. “It’s a bit of a mish mash, really. A place for people to go for information because being healthy can be confusing, and we try to support local suppliers as much as we can. So, each store is very locally focused. We offer jams that are organic and made locally—that kind of thing.”
Kate was impressed. Allan had never let on that his nephew was such an entrepreneur.
“What about you, Kate? Allan says you make people famous.” He winked.
Kate sipped her tea and smiled. Leave it to Allan to say that very tongue-in-cheek statement.
“I publicize books and try to save authors from themselves.”
Nicholas laughed, “That sounds about right.”
“I love my work,” she sighed. “It’s the industry that gets to me at times. So much about publishing is changing. It’s like we’re standing on shifting sand.”
…
Lunch lasted two hours. Kate was surprised that Nicholas was so easy to talk to. When they were done, Nicholas insisted on escorting her in a cab to her apartment. When they arrived, Nicholas asked the driver to wait as he walked Kate to her door.
“I’d like to see you again. I know we’re going to spend Christmas at my uncle’s, but perhaps this coming week for dinner? Since Christmas is Saturday, perhaps Tuesday?”
Kate felt herself nodding.
“I’d like that,” she smiled. Nick bent in and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Just then, Nick’s phone buzzed.
“It’s my uncle’s neighbor. Hang on… Hello?”
Kate watched Nick’s face turn from curiosity to sadness. He clicked the End button on the call.
“Uncle Allan has died,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Allan Lavigne, who The New York Times had once heralded as the brightest star on the publishing scene, died at seventy-three from an apparent heart attack. He was alone in his apartment when it happened. The neighbor came upstairs when Allan didn’t show for their weekly poker game. He found Allan face down on the floor.
When Kate and Nick arrived at Allan’s apartment, the coroner was just taking Allan away. Seeing this, Nick reached a hand out.
“Wait,” he said to the somber looking man, “can I have a minute?”
When the coroner pulled the cover back, Kate felt her eyes burn with tears. Her dear, sweet Allan. She had loved him like family. Now he was gone. Nick put an arm around her.
“Thanks,” he said in almost a whisper.
The coroner covered up the body, and they began moving him out of the apartment. Neighbors were circulating in the hall. Nick closed the door, leaving him alone with Kate. He hugged her and she cried.
“You were such a g
ood friend to him, Katie. I’m very grateful to you for that.”
Kate cried into his shoulder.
“He shouldn’t have been alone; he never took care of himself. I’m so sorry, Nick.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he whispered into her ear.
Kate pulled back, wiping her face. She looked around. Although he’d tidied up for Nick’s visit, Allan’s apartment was a mess again. His cleaning phases never lasted long. She knew in the days to come she’d be helping Nick sift through Allan’s belongings and pack up his life. The thought seemed impossible. Allan was gone. It just didn’t seem real.
Chapter Thirty-Six
On Sunday, Kate had tried to reach Nick but only got his voicemail. She went by Allan’s apartment hoping to find him there, but the apartment was locked and empty. Kate dropped by to see Grace, who did what she could to console her friend. Kate really wanted to talk to Mac, but didn’t dare admit that to Grace, or, for that matter, herself. She fought the urge to text him. Before she’d left Nick on Saturday, he’d asked her to hold off telling anyone connected to his former publishing house. She knew that despite their relationship, this included Mac.
…
When Kate arrived at MD on Monday, she was quite the star, although she didn’t really feel like one at all. Within minutes of setting her briefcase down, Edward called her into his office.
“Have a seat, Kate. That was quite a show with Janet on Friday,” Edward said, seated behind his heavy desk. “You did great work.”
“Thank you, Edward. I appreciate the acknowledgement.”
He cleared his throat, “We were going to let Janet go.”
“Really?” she feigned surprise.
He nodded. “Yes, we felt she was no longer right for MD, but now, well, things have changed. We’re going to offer her an extended contract and an increased royalty rate. I think she has earned it. We broke all records at her book signing, and orders are still pouring in. I checked with The Times. She’s going to make the list this week. First time in five years.”
Kate beamed, despite the fact that she knew Edward would have dropped Janet like radioactive waste if Piper hadn’t rescued the event. Edward was a slug. She was surprised he wasn’t taking all the credit for Janet’s success.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks, and Mac did good to insist that you work on The Continued Promise. I had my doubts. Not anymore.”
Mac had insisted. She knew that. But now, at least, she felt like she had earned it.
…
Isla VonKarting was not happy about her release date. Who on earth would move her book date from January to the spring? Ridiculous.
Isla had been quite vocal on this a number of times, and Kate wasn’t looking forward to meeting her in the office on Tuesday.
Isla VonKarting was once the country’s top psychic. She fell from grace about seven years ago after several lawsuits and a whole bunch of bad press. Late last year, she began making a comeback when she started working with the New Orleans Police Department to solve a series of murders. Young boys, all under the age of fifteen, were being murdered and left to be found in horrifying ways. One boy was found nailed to a cross and stuffed in a dumpster. New Orleans had a serial killer on its hands, and when Isla contacted them with a tip, she was brushed off as a clairvoyant nutcase. When the tip panned out, the Police Department brought her in. Three more boys were murdered before the killer was caught, but the police department offered a good deal of credit to Isla’s “insight.” And so, the once tattered career was reborn, and Isla became a household name. MD acquired her fifth book, hoping the buzz of the killings and a pending movie deal would spark heavy sales.
Isla was on her way to a family Christmas in Sweden and insisted on dropping by the office to see Kate and discuss her publicity. Kate scrolled through her email and found another note from Isla, emphasizing the words “update on my promotion.”
You should be insanely grateful, Kate thought. Five years ago, you were a punch line. Now, you’re a psychic hero.
Kate had asked Isla’s editor, Rebecca Wright, if it was possible to move the date slightly earlier than spring, but it was too late. The wheels were in motion. Rebecca was out on maternity leave that week, so she wouldn’t be there to face Isla.
Of all of the authors Kate had worked with, she was certain that she liked Isla the least. Despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she believed in psychics, Isla hadn’t been pleasant to work with at all. Her recent fame had gone straight to her ego. Or as Mac often said, “the ego has landed.”
Kate had lined up numerous media outlets for Isla, which all had to be moved. Although despite that, the commitments were good. Having this extra time would also allow her to do another round of magazine pitches to see if there was any interest. She made a note to remind herself to tell Isla that. Another point in favor of a later release. Intuitive Power was slated for a starred review in Publishers Weekly, and many of the entertainment magazines planned to run stories on it just in time for the book launch.
Her phone buzzed again. It was Mac calling. Kate closed the door to her office.
“Hey, Mac.”
“Katie, how are you? I’ve left a few messages…” Mac’s voice trailed off.
Kate’s heart always skipped when she talked with Mac. It was true. He had called Sunday night but she’d let it go to voicemail. Lunch with Nicholas had been confusing. She had enjoyed it more than she expected she would. And then Allan…
She pushed the thought out of her head. She needed to tell Mac but wanted to respect Nick’s wishes.
“I know, I’m sorry. This Isla book has got me running in circles. By the way, Edward extended Janet’s contract.”
Mac laughed, “The bastard probably took all the credit for her successful signing, too.”
“No, he didn’t. It surprised me, too.”
“Listen, I know you’re busy. I just wanted to say hi and tell you I’ll be in the office first thing in the morning.”
“How was your time with the boys?” The question hung in the air. They both knew it wasn’t the real question she wanted to ask.
“They’re great, Katie. I am glad I’m here. But…”
“What, Mac?” Kate held her breath. Part of her didn’t want to care and the other part cared deeply.
“I’ve missed you.”
She felt herself melt. Not just her heart, her entire body. She wished she were melting in his arms. She needed to be held and loved. She wanted to burn away the pain of her loss in his arms, but he wasn’t there. He was with his family. A shaky breath caught in her throat. That was the truth of it all. Yet in a way, she didn’t care.
Although she knew that she should.
“Me, too,” she said before she clicked off.
Kate dropped in her chair. Thinking about Mac and feeling herself want him so much it made her dizzy. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Nicholas.
“Oh,” she said aloud, “this is about to get very complicated.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
On Monday afternoon, Nick called Kate to tell her the news.
“Kate, I made a statement to the press about Uncle Allan so everyone will know soon enough. You can tell whomever you like.”
“Nick, I’m so sorry about all of this. What have you been doing today?”
“Mostly going through my uncle’s things and planning his funeral.”
“Let’s have dinner later.”
Kate surprised herself with the invitation, but she didn’t want Nick to be alone.
“Sure, I’d love to,” Nick said. “Come by my uncle’s apartment whenever you’re finished with work. I’ll be here.”
Kate put her phone down. He’ll be there, in Allan’s apartment all alone and going through his things. Suddenly, Kate felt so sad.
…
The news of Allan’s death swept through MD. Her office had seen almost non-stop traffic with coworkers wanting to tell her how sorry they were to hear about Al
lan and what a great talent he was. Too bad he never wrote again. Kate agreed it was a terrible loss. When she walked past Edward’s office on her way to the kitchen, she heard him telling his assistant to make sure the warehouse had copies of Allan’s book. There was sure to be a run of book orders. Kate shook her head. Always the sale. Never forget the sale. Death and controversy are always good for book sales. Let no opportunity go to waste.
Celeb death? Let’s publish a book!
Writer death? Let’s print more copies!
Kate’s phone buzzed. She reached into the pocket of her jacket as she walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mac.”
“Katie, I just heard about Allan. I’m so sorry. I’ll be back tonight. Why don’t I come over?”
“I’m having dinner with Nick, Allan’s nephew.” Kate’s voice was flat. She wanted to see Mac.
“Can you drop by after?” The concern in Mac’s voice was evident.
“Sure,” Kate said in a low voice. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”
…
When Kate arrived at Allan’s apartment, she found Nick knee-deep in papers and boxes. The door was ajar and Kate pushed it open.
“Hi, Nick.”
He turned to look at her and smiled. He looked tired, she thought. Suddenly, she was glad she came. All alone in this sometimes unforgiving city and a dead relative, it must be so hard. Kate walked over to where Nick sat and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“How are you holding up?”
“I didn’t sleep much—spent much of the day here yesterday and much of the night.”
Kate knelt down. “He sure had a lot of stuff, didn’t he?”
“I don’t even know where to begin; I am finding receipts that date back to 1969.”
Nick took a handful of small pieces of paper out of a box. They were worn and yellowing.
Kate nodded, “Allan hated to throw anything away.”
“I have a call into his lawyer to see about a will. I hope he had one, or this will be a mess. Allan has one other living cousin and that’s it. Other than me, the Lavignes are all gone. I can’t locate him, though. No telling where he is.”
The Publicist Book One and Two Page 14
