by Kait Nolan
“Tell us about your time at Helios,” Nina Winslow invited.
Easy peasy.
“It’s one of the most coveted internships in Chicago. The one all the first year grad students hear about almost from day one. Once I got there and began working under Norah Burke, I understood why.” Cecily told them about the various accounts she’d worked on, the contributions she’d made to the team. She waited for the fizz of accomplishment, the rush she’d felt working on those projects, but the whole thing felt like a recitation of someone else’s life. Coming back to corporate marketing was going to be pretty jarring after what she’d been doing in Wishful.
Gavin Sheppard consulted his notes. “I understand you left Helios before your internship was complete. Can you tell us why?”
Because I blackmailed Norah’s ex into retracting the smear campaign his father started against her. Yeah, no, she couldn’t mention that.
“Norah left Helios in January and relocated to Wishful, Mississippi. We have an exceptional working relationship, so I felt that my apprenticeship would be better served by continuing to work with her rather than switching horses midstream, as it were.”
“And what exactly have you been doing in Mississippi?” asked Derek—something. Cecily couldn’t remember his last name. She could tell he couldn’t fathom that she’d done anything of import in a place so small.
Feeling defensive on Norah’s behalf and protective of Wishful, Cecily squared her shoulders. “We waged a war and turned the tide of a town that’s been economically disadvantaged for several decades—without resorting to accepting the less than beneficial offer of GrandGoods, which would’ve irrevocably damaged the character of Wishful.” Warming to her topic, Cecily continued, “And since they got sent packing, we’ve firmly established the first phase of a long-term rural tourism campaign, while assisting individual local businesses in maximizing their potential.”
As she began to outline the specifics of the rural tourism campaign, Cecily’s new phone beeped with an incoming text. Mortification at her unprofessionalism was quickly chased away by the twin demons of hope and dread. They seemed to circle her as she muttered an apology and reached for the phone to switch it over to vibrate—and saw the text from Dinah.
Plot twist! Talk to him.
Cecily blinked at the message, her train of thought entirely derailed. What had Dinah found out? Plot twist? In Dinah’s world, that meant something wasn’t as it seemed—exactly as she’d predicted. Her aunt was no bullshitter when it came to matters of the heart. That meant that somehow, some way, there was some kind of explanation for what Cecily had seen. She couldn’t fathom what that was, but hope flared in her chest nonetheless. That meant everything could be all right. Didn’t it?
“Is everything all right?” Nina asked.
“Yes.” Cecily thumbed the phone to silent and mentally shook herself. “I’m terribly sorry. Where was I?”
“The planned roll out of Phase Two.”
“Ah, yes. Phase Two deals with the revitalization of other downtown retail space in preparation for luring small business entrepreneurs. Part of that is individual marketing plans for the existing businesses, maximizing their client base and revenues. That’s predominantly what I’ve been doing the last several months.” She began to describe some of the specific projects she’d spearheaded. As she got into the meat of those campaigns, citing befores and afters, Cecily realized that nothing she’d ever done at Helios—even while under Norah’s tutelage—had ever made her this happy.
On the heels of that epiphany, Gavin asked, “Why don’t you tell us about your vision about marketing in general.”
“I come from a family that believes in utilizing skills in the service of others. In light of that, I love connecting on an individual level—with both clients and their customer base. That personal service is so rewarding. And I suppose my vision is of doing that in a way that’s affordable for small businesses.” Which was exactly the business plan she’d outlined for her own firm.
As she looked around the table at the faces of these movers and shakers, Cecily tried to imagine herself as one of them. She tried to see the life she’d envisioned for so long. And she simply couldn’t. The truth was, no matter how things turned out with Reed, she didn’t want to work in corporate marketing. No matter how prestigious.
“This firm is one of the best in the country. But Verdant doesn’t do small. You have a different vision, a different function, and I’m not sure I’m the best fit for that. I appreciate the honor of interviewing with you more than you can know, but I’ve got another path to follow.”
The various stunned faces around the table made it quite clear that no one had ever walked away from the opportunity of a job with their firm.
“Well, we appreciate your candor, Miss Dixon.” Nina offered her hand.
Cecily took it. “I apologize for taking up your time.”
“Not at all. Your unique viewpoint is…refreshing. And should you change your mind, give me a call.”
She knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind. Not on this. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
As they descended the spiral staircase down to the first floor, Nina asked, “Where will you be headed?”
Cecily thought of Wishful and of the confrontation waiting there. “Home.”
“Best of luck. I suspect you’ll be successful at whatever you put your mind to.”
She certainly hoped so.
The moment Nina Winslow left her side, Cecily pulled her phone back out and dialed Reed’s number from memory. It began to ring as she stepped outside. Faint strains of the theme song from the 60s TV version of Batman seemed to echo across the courtyard. The music stopped before she could locate the source. On the other end of the line, Reed invited her to leave a voicemail.
Damn it. She’d expected him to pick up. What the hell should she say?
“I—Reed, it’s Cecily. I have a new number. I’d like to talk to you. Call me back.” She unzipped her purse, feeling deflated and losing some of her nerve.
“I’m pretty sure those are the sweetest words I’ve heard in the last seventy-two hours.”
~*~
Cecily jolted and almost dropped her phone as Reed pushed away from the towering Black Acacia tree dominating Verdant’s courtyard and stepped into her path. As soon as recognition dawned, her gaze swept him from head to toe, confirming that he looked as bad as he felt.
“I took the red eye,” he told her by way of explanation, though she hadn’t asked. He nodded toward the building behind her. “You were in there a long time.”
Cecily frowned. “How long have you been out here?”
“A couple hours. I’d hoped to catch you at your hotel before the interview, but my flight was delayed.” And now he might very well be too late. But he couldn’t allow himself to think about that just now. He couldn’t consider the possibility that this foolishness wasn’t fixable, that she’d already taken the job with Verdant. He wouldn’t even ask the question. Not yet.
Her hands wrapped nervously around the strap of her purse. “What are you doing here, Reed?”
“Giving you an explanation and proving that you can trust me—if you’ll give me the chance.”
She inclined her head in that regal way she sometimes had that reminded him what a very different world she came from. “Okay.”
Reed glanced back at the modern glass and steel building at her back. It felt too strange to have this conversation in front of the place that might take her away from him. “Can we go somewhere? Sit down maybe?”
“I saw a coffee shop on my way in. It’s a couple blocks down.”
“That sounds good. I could use a top off. My blood caffeine level is starting to drop, and I don’t want to pass out on you.”
A muscle jerked in her cheek as if she wanted to smile. Or maybe that was his imagination.
He wanted desperately to take her hand as they walked but didn’t dare.
Until this was sorted, he had no right to touch her. They said nothing as they strolled through the chill, gray day, breaking the silence only to place their orders at the little local place that overlooked a slice of park down the street. Then they sat in a booth by the window, not drinking their coffees, and Reed felt more awkward than he ever had during their period of misunderstanding after the summer.
Not knowing how else to start, he pulled two sheets of folded paper out of his jacket pocket and laid them on the table between them. “Go ahead. Read it.”
Cecily picked them up and read the first page, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“That is my account record for Virtual Match and the profile of my virtual girlfriend, Selina Kyle, whom I named after the alter ego of Catwoman.”
“Virtual girlfriend?”
From the look on her face, Reed could tell she was wondering what kind of freaktastic geek thing that was.
“It’s a service for people who need fake significant others for whatever reason. To keep their nosy grandma from setting them up with somebody. To stop the unceasing questions about who they’re dating. To keep well-intentioned folks from trying to convince you that you need to get back out there after a breakup when you’re just not ready. Whatever. In my case, Selina was a shield against Brenda. As you know, Brenda had a hideous divorce, and shortly after I hired her, she came onto me. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or give her more rejection, so I concocted a fake girlfriend using this service, in order to get her to back off. And it worked.”
“You’re telling me that I successfully had a conversation with a computer?”
“No, it’s a real person on the other end. That’s the genius of the service. I didn’t tell you about it because I felt kind of stupid about the whole thing. And it happens that whoever is playing Selina became a friend. So I didn’t cancel the service when you and I got together.”
“Because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” Cecily murmured, with an eye roll that clearly said Duh, I should’ve known that.
“Exactly. Only in doing so, I hurt the one person I care for the most. I’m sorry, Cecily. I can’t tell how how sorry I am that I hurt you, even unintentionally. Norah and Dinah have already informed me of all the ways in which I am a complete dumbass. Between the two of them, they’ve probably covered them all, but you’re welcome to take all your best shots. I owe that to you at least.”
“You told Dinah about all this?”
“Yeah. She asked about a million questions about how the service works. I’m pretty sure she got a plot bunny out of the whole thing.”
Cecily’s lips twitched. “That would be just like her.”
“She’s a force of nature, your aunt.”
“She is that,” Cecily agreed. She reached out, curling her fingers through his, and Reed thought nothing had ever felt so wonderful as that touch of forgiveness. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Again.”
“Yeah, well, even I admit the evidence looked pretty damning. I don’t blame you.”
“So you flew all the way out here to tell me your other girlfriend was fake and you never cheated on me?”
“Well, it seemed to be the only option left when Christoff nearly castrated me, Norah almost beheaded me, you wouldn’t answer my calls, texts, or emails, and I didn’t know which sky to have the skywriter spell it out in. If I’d known where to go, I’d have followed you sooner. Because the fact that Selina isn’t real isn’t the only thing I wanted to tell you.”
Fresh tension snapped through the tenuous connection of their hands. Wanting to allay her fears, Reed moved around to her side of the table, sliding his free hand into her hair and hoping that however she reacted to this would allay his own.
“I love you.”
Cecily’s eyes widened.
“Not finished,” he warned before she could speak. “I sincerely hope that our little misunderstanding didn’t prompt you to come all the way out here and accept the job just to get away from me. But if you did, then we’ll deal. I can come with you.”
“You’d leave your family, your business behind to follow me?”
“I can find a bookstore to manage anywhere. I can’t find another you, and if I let you go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Reed’s gut clenched as she began shaking her head.
“Inglenook can’t do without you. Wishful needs its bookstore.”
Shit. He’d been afraid of this. But he’d worked out a contingency plan on the flight. “I wouldn’t sell. But Brenda’s good at her job. And I can always take on other employees to manage the place while I’m wherever.”
“No,” she insisted. “I put far too much work into setting Inglenook up to be the hub for readers that you wanted. You have to be there to see that through.” She took a breath. “And so do I. I turned Verdant down.”
“You did?” Relief slid through him, followed by complete, dumbfounded shock. That meant she’d decided against the job before she knew the truth about Selina.
“I realized corporate marketing isn’t going to make me happy. I didn’t come alive in that interview until I started talking about the small business campaigns I’ve worked on in Wishful. That makes me happy. So I want to go home with you and open my own firm, exactly like we talked about.”
Home. She’d called Wishful home. And tied him to it. The vice that’d been cranked tight around his chest for days finally loosened, and he could breath again.
“I want to put down roots. Because above all else, you make me happy, and I love you back, Reed Campbell.”
It was fitting that the sun came out just then. Or maybe it was just that she smiled. Either way Reed pressed his brow to hers and exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I didn’t really have a backup plan if you didn’t.”
Cecily laughed and fisted one hand in his lapel. “Shut up and kiss me.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Epilogue
“Mr. McGee will see you now.”
Cecily rose from her chair in the waiting room of McGee, Buckley, and Connelly and followed the receptionist down the hall. Tucker McGee, the original Phil Davis in Wishful Community Theater’s production of White Christmas, walked around his desk to greet her, no limp in evidence.
“All the paperwork is drawn up. We just need to get your signature.”
Cecily peered down at his dress shoes as she followed him over to the conference table.
Tucker went over the contracts and she signed her name approximately a million times.
“That’s the last one. I’ll have Margaret make a copy for you. We’ll be taking it down to the courthouse for filing later this afternoon.” He rose and called to the receptionist, hanging over the freshly signed contracts.
“Okay, I have to ask. Where’s your cast?”
“I was misdiagnosed,” he said easily.
She arched a brow. “How do you get misdiagnosed with a broken leg?”
His expression settled somewhere between smug and sheepish as he returned to his seat. “I decided my understudy needed the part more.”
“Needed the opportunity to get the girl, you mean.” She laughed. “And people talk about how Norah arranges things to suit her.”
“They say the same thing about you, and now they’ll say it more often.” Tucker handed over the keys. “Congratulations, Cecily, you are, officially, the new owner of the Wishful train depot.”
She clutched them in her fist and resisted the urge to do a little jig. That could wait until she was in the privacy of her new office building. “Thanks, Tucker.”
Gathering up her copy of the paperwork, Cecily said goodbye and stepped out into the frigid December day. Before sliding on her gloves, she sent a quick text to Reed. Finally done.
His response was immediate. Meet you there.
She could’ve taken her car, but the building was only a few blocks from Tucker’s office and she wanted to walk through the town she’d adopted as her own. Wreaths and holiday banners adorned all the street
lights downtown. A massive Christmas tree reached toward the sky on the green just in front of City Hall. Shop windows all along the way held cheerful displays inviting shoppers to come inside. Cecily knew most of them would be offering hot chocolate or mulled cider to entice shoppers into lingering. It pleased her that most of the parking spaces were filled and people strolled along the streets, hands full of shopping bags. Two weeks to Christmas and downtown Wishful was doing a brisk business. The knowledge that she’d helped make that a reality warmed her against the chill.
By January, she’d be doing the same from her new firm instead of under the loose auspices of the city planner. Maybe February. It depended on how long it took her to get the building cleaned up and turned into something resembling an actual office. The city had cleaned out all the junk they’d been storing there for the past twenty-odd years, but it was a long way from ready for clients. She’d considered renovating to the specs Mitch Campbell had drawn up for Norah, but much as she loved the design, she didn’t want to dip any further into her trust fund than she had to purchase the building. She preferred to let things grow organically, see what she could make of it on her own. And that meant she needed to get creative. Still, Whistle Stop Marketing was close to becoming a real thing.
She couldn’t wait.
The bright flash of yellow at the front door had Cecily slowing.
What on earth?
Pansies. Two enormous blue-glazed pots of bright faced pansies and some kind of green stuff that would presumably survive the cold now flanked her front door. Where had they come from?
“Clearly my cousin’s been here.” Reed, slid an arm around her waist. “That’s got Cam written all over it.”
“Awww. That’s awfully nice of him. It makes the outside look almost like a real business.”
“A closing day present. Ready to go in?”
Cecily held up her key. “Let’s do it.”
She unlocked the door and stepped inside, reaching for the light. “Why do I smell—oh my God.”
Heart thumping, she took a few steps forward and stopped again. The place had not only been emptied, it’d been cleaned. The fresh scent of lemon oil hung in the air, punctuated by the incongruous scent of fresh biscuits. This, presumably, arose from the covered basket sitting on the desk. The desk. Across the vast space, a long, L-shaped desk was flanked by a pair of large bookcases. Cecily recognized Daniel’s pallet-wood creations instantly. Across from them, a large markerboard on a rolling stand stood adjacent to an enormous bulletin board mounted on the back wall. The pair of vintage club chairs she’d been eying at Park Place created a nice seating area in front of the desk. Christoff’s hand was visible in the bold grommet-top curtains flanking the windows.
