by Shirley Jump
He crossed to the coffee table, but as he reached for her plate, Kate stirred and woke up. “What time is it?” Her voice was sleepy and soft.
“A little after two in the morning.”
She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“You’ve been working really hard lately. You were typing like a madwoman over there for hours.”
“It’s always like that at the end of a book. Sort of like rappelling down a mountain, only without the dangerous part.” Kate drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. Her feet were bare, bright-red toenails peeking out from beneath the wide-leg yoga pants. “Did you read the book?”
“No.” Her face fell. He dropped onto the sofa beside her and put a hand on her arm. “I devoured it, Kate. It was…amazing. Maybe the best book I’ve ever read, and not because it’s my life story. Starting a company isn’t always the most exciting thing, but you…you made it compelling and emotional and a hundred other things I don’t have the words for. You are an incredible, amazing, talented writer, Kate. I’d call you more adjectives, but I’d need a thesaurus.”
That adorable blush filled her cheeks. “Thanks. That is, after all, what you were paying me to do.”
“Speaking of which…” He reached into his pocket for the slim piece of paper he’d held onto for hours. “When I ran out for dinner, I stopped by the office and had my CFO cut the check for the second half of the advance. He’s mailing your agent her cut, but this is for you.”
She took the check, then stared at him. “Why are you giving me this? Normally, the client just sends the check to Angie and then she pays me.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“To hand me thousands of dollars?” Kate chuckled. “I’m not going to complain about that, but really, Angie sends me my part of the fee right away.”
“I couldn’t wait to fire you, essentially.” He shifted over to the coffee table, close enough that their knees could almost touch. “Because if you’re no longer working for me, we can go on a proper date.”
Kate’s mouth opened. Closed. She blinked. “Maybe I’m still a bit sleepy and not with it, but did you just…ask me out?”
“I do believe I did. And I don’t mean a dinner in a diner. You deserve more than that, Kate. Something special. So let’s get dressed up and go out for dinner tomorrow—” he glanced at the clock, “—technically, tonight for dinner. After you get some sleep and I stop by the office for a little while. I’ll pick you up at seven, and we’ll go somewhere fancy and delicious.”
A smile blossomed on her face, as bright as sunshine after a storm. “That sounds wonderful, Trent.”
“Then it’s a date, and I mean that. It’s a date.” All those hours he’d spent watching her work, then reading the amazing story she’d put together, had quadrupled his respect for her and reminded him of how empty his life had been without Kate. The story he’d read didn’t make sense without her, and it had taken all those pages before he’d understood that fact. He got to his feet and grabbed his car keys off the table. “I’ll let you get some sleep, Kate. Before I go, I just want to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For creating something amazing with your words. You are a truly gifted writer. And I can’t wait to see what happens next.” He wanted to kiss her, wanted that more than anything, but no. It would wait. Kate deserved a special night, a moment as beautiful as she was, and Trent intended to deliver.
“You are singing to my primroses.” Grandma parked a fist on her hip. “What happened?”
Kate giggled, actually giggled, like a high schooler in love. “I finished writing Trent’s book and when I was done, he said—” she took in a deep breath, “—that he wants to date me.”
“It’s about time that silly man saw what a prize you are.” Grandma patted her cheek. “You look happy, my dear. I’m glad to see that.”
“I am happy.” As she said the words, she realized they were true. Reconnecting with Trent, spending all that time hiking and at his parents’ house—all of it had been fun. They’d flirted and joked, talked and confessed. And tonight, they had a date planned. She didn’t care where they went or what they ate—all she knew was that she was going to be with Trent as his girlfriend, not his ghostwriter. That thought made her as giddy as she had been in college before that first dinner at Chick and Cheese.
“Sometimes,” Grandma said as she picked up one of the seedlings that was growing too tall for the starter pot, “all it takes is some time to make something grow from nothing. Maybe you two needed those years apart to appreciate each other now.”
“Maybe so.” Kate pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek. “I’ve got to go get ready for my date. I’ll be back on Saturday, and we’ll hit the farmer’s market. It’s supposed to be a lovely day, so a few of the vendors will be there. And, I’m going to treat you to lunch, wherever you want to go. Don’t you dare say no, because I’m doing it anyway.”
“You are the best granddaughter anyone could ever have.” Grandma hugged her tight. “And you tell that boy I’m glad he finally smartened up.”
Kate was still laughing as she climbed in her car. The skies opened up, and she looked around the Honda for her raincoat—of course, not here again—but Trent’s jacket was, and Kate slipped it on just to have the scent of him nearby. She hummed as she drove, doing a mental inventory of her dresses. Maybe the black one. No, the blue, because it would offset the green of her eyes and the brown in her hair. Like the sky on a sunny day.
Just as she pulled into her apartment parking lot, her phone rang. Kate’s agent’s profile picture lit up the screen. “Hey, Angie, what’s up?”
“Can you come in right now? I have some…news for you.”
“Sure. What about?”
“It’s better if we talk in person. See you in a few.”
Hmm. That was unlike Angie to be so vague and so insistent on an in-person meeting rather than a quick heads-up on the phone. Kate turned the car around and headed across town. The skies had turned gloomy, and the temperature had dropped several degrees while she’d been at Grandma’s. The weatherman had forecasted a storm moving in, with wind and up to four inches of snow. If she was lucky, the storm would hang on the coast and not hit Seattle before the weekend, or before her date tonight.
But as she parked and went into Angie’s office, an angry wind snapped at the fleece jacket and chased up her spine. Kate drew the oversized coat tighter to her body and hurried inside to Angie’s office, where the air was warm. “What’s up?”
Angie’s face was lined and serious. She gestured toward the chair across from her. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”
Kate sank down, and a heaviness settled in her gut. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.” Angie picked up her tablet and clicked on the screen, swiping to get to a specific app. “Do you know Loretta Wildwood?”
“Yeah, sure. We went to college together, and I’ve run into her a few times this month. She invited me to that networking event, where I met Penny. The other writer who’s going to critique with me.”
“Well, it seems Loretta was determined to blow your cover and—” Angie handed the tablet over, “—she has.”
There, in bright color and a bold headline, right under a picture of a smiling Loretta, was Kate’s face beside Trent’s. The words screamed back at Kate, harsh and blaring: Ghostwriter is Author of Former Boyfriend’s Book
Her worst nightmare, right there on the screen. Her identity public, and her relationship with Trent made public at the same time. The article implied there was still some feelings between them and that her emotions had shaped the words she’d written, making Trent look better than he was. Kate’s emotions had shaped her writing, but she would never paint a picture of anything other than the truth. “This is
n’t happening. This can’t be happening.”
But it was. The look on Angie’s face was enough to tell Kate the enormity of Loretta’s public outing. “Keep reading,” Angie said. “It doesn’t get better, unfortunately.”
Kate dropped her attention back to the blog post. It’s always interesting the things you learn when you research a character, Loretta had written, and for my newest book (available in stores in November! Order your copy today!) I based one of my characters on my friend, Kate Winslow. She and I went to the same college, and while I became a real author, she became a ghostwriter.
Kate bristled. Loretta’s condescending attitude was infuriating. “Just because my name isn’t on the book doesn’t mean I’m not a real author.”
“I know.” Angie sighed. “We both know that. Loretta, though, had some kind of point to prove.”
I came across a blog by a ghostwriter, called The Secret Life of a Ghost, and was using that for my research, when lo and behold, I read a little tidbit about networking at an author event and how that had been so much fun for the ghostwriter. She talked about working in a coffee shop and eating chocolate chunk cookies, and I thought…I know a ghostwriter who went to that party and who likes chocolate chunk cookies…could it be?
So I did my sleuthing (as all good mystery authors should) and found this picture. Right by the mention of cookies and parties, Loretta had posted the photo Kate had shared of the waterfall at Moulton State Park. And I also found this one, by another former college friend (and Kate’s old boyfriend), Trent MacMillan, who owns that sporting goods company. I follow him, because, you know, he’s an old friend.
“I don’t think Loretta ever said two words to Trent.” Kate shook her head and scrolled down, seeing that the story did indeed, as Angie had promised, get worse. Loretta had found Trent’s Instagram picture with the boot in it, then mentioned seeing Kate in a GOA jacket.
But the final clue that solved the mystery was this!!! Loretta had made the exclamation points bold and had even added a bright red arrow pointing to another photo. In an instant, Kate recognized it from twenty-four hours ago—had it really only been a day?—up on Mt. Cascade, with Trent and his mountain fan—
And Kate standing off to the side. She hadn’t stepped into the picture, but the girlfriend of the dreadlocks kid must have kept the zoom angled wide enough to capture Kate too.
“Maybe the clients won’t figure it out?” Kate said, but her voice was high and tenuous.
Before Angie shook her head, Kate knew the horse had already escaped the barn, and it was too late to think they could keep the secret. “Loretta is pretty well known, and you know how things spread on social media. I already have a call from Gerard, wanting to make sure no one is going to put together that you wrote his book, and three other people’s messages on my voicemail.”
“This is going to ruin my career.” Kate’s body began to shake, and flashes of heat and cold ran through her. All these years, she had worked hard to be circumspect and to not disclose the identity of her clients. One blog post from Loretta, and all that was gone. “What am I going to do?”
She thought of Trent’s company, which needed stability and good publicity ahead of the IPO. How hard he had worked to build GOA from the ground up. And maybe a little selfishly, she thought of the two of them, how they’d reconnected and just now had started to build something special. All of that was at risk of disappearing because of this one moment.
“What about the NDA?” Kate asked. “Like, could Trent sue me?” Would he sue her? She’d like to think not, but this exposure could seriously damage his company and his reputation. Those kinds of stakes could change…everything.
“We’ll worry about that when we get to it, if we get to it,” Angie said. “I think we can make a pretty valid case that you didn’t do anything that exposed the connection.”
“Still…” Kate buried her face in her hands. “This is a disaster. It will destroy my career, at the very least.”
“Well, maybe you should look at it as an opportunity,” Angie said as she gently took the tablet back and turned off the screen. “You could finally send me those chapters of your novel and see where that goes.”
Hadn’t she procrastinated on finishing her novel long enough? All those hikes and the day working at the nursery and the chances she had taken in the last few weeks had done one thing—it had taught Kate that she was stronger and more capable than she had ever believed. “I did make enough money from finishing Trent’s book to cover my bills for a few months.” Finishing that novel, without the parachute of another ghostwriting contract, was still a risk, but if not now, when? She was tired of waiting for her life to be everything she dreamed of. Tired of being the one on the sidelines, not the one in the middle of the conversations. “All right. I’ll send you what I have as soon as I get home. If you think it’s good—”
“Of course it will be. You’re an amazing writer.”
“Then I’ll finish it.” Kate glanced at the now-dark tablet sitting on Angie’s desk. Nerves and regrets rolled in her stomach, an angry storm that left her nauseated and scared, despite her brave statement a minute ago. There would be fallout yet to come from Loretta’s blog post, which meant this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. There was still a possibility Loretta wouldn’t figure out the identity of the other authors Kate had ghosted for, but it didn’t matter.
This earthquake in the middle of her career, Trent’s company, and their relationship had thrown them all into a deep cavern. Somehow she needed to find a way to climb out and fix what had happened.
Fourteen
If there was one thing Trent loved about social media, it was how quickly news could spread. If there was one thing he hated…
It was how quickly news could spread.
Sarah had stormed into his office first thing that morning, showing him a stream of connections from some author’s blog—an author who claimed to be his friend from college, but he didn’t remember her at all—to another author’s Twitter feed, to another and another, until an online tabloid got ahold of the story about Kate being the real author behind his book. The tabloid blasted it across their homepage, calling Trent a fraud. In a matter of hours, the entire thing had gone viral and was undoubtedly making its way into the feeds and inboxes of his investors. As they were wont to do to up ratings and readers, the tabloid turned the story into a doubting taunt about the irony of a title with the word True, because Trent was lying about writing the book. They peppered the article with lots of questions about what else Trent might be lying about. Like his profits. His sales. His future.
The worst kind of rumors any company could have just before it went public. This had the makings of an epic disaster.
His stomach knotted. He’d spent so much time with Kate, had opened his heart and past, and paid her to write to keep this confidential. Had she betrayed him? The thought that she could have done this on purpose—either for her own career or for money or for some other reason—drove a fist into the nausea churning in his gut.
“We have to do something, Trent,” Sarah said. Dark shadows dusted the space under her eyes, and her lips were set in a grim line. Everything Trent needed to know about the cost of this story was written all over Sarah’s face. “We can’t afford bad publicity. Not now.”
“I know. I know. I’ll figure something out.”
“The irony is that you can’t be honest and tell everyone you used a ghostwriter. If you do, then people are going to doubt the authenticity of the book, especially because there is a proven previous relationship between you and Kate,” she said. “You’ve built this company on a premise of being a hundred percent open about your life, your adventures, your struggles.”
“That was about hiking and cycling tours, Sarah. Not writing. People shouldn’t be surprised I had help with writing the book. This—” he waved around the office, “—is my specialty, not words.”
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Sarah worried her bottom lip, something she only did when she was nervous. “That’s not going to be enough. This is a major blow to the company, the book, everything. There are going to be questions and doubts for years to come, so we need to do damage control right now. We’ll figure out something you can say to minimize this story. But before I work on some kind of a statement…”
“What?” he prompted.
Sarah shifted her weight and averted her gaze. “Do you think there’s any possibility that Kate sold the story about the ghostwriting to maybe make some extra money? I mean, I know you trust her, but some of those tabloids pay an awful lot for gossip and rumors.”
“Kate would never.” Would she? He hadn’t seen her in almost fifteen years, and he had to admit, the irony of being paired with his ex-girlfriend as his writer was an awfully convenient event. Had Kate somehow arranged to be the writer for his book? He thought of the woman he had once known and the one he had met again last month. Sure, she lived rather cheaply, in a one-bedroom apartment that could use an update or ten, but nothing about Kate gave him the sense that she was a mercenary person.
“I only met her once, but I frankly can’t see her doing that either. Still, you never know with people.” Sarah shrugged. “Either way, I think you should issue a public statement, maybe with that magazine that’s doing the profile in a couple of weeks. That gives us time to see if this dies down before we make any kind of big response. If we do issue a statement in the interview, it should take care of any lingering doubts anyone might be having. Their magazine has a lot more prestige in the marketplace than that…trash on the internet, so hopefully that mitigates some of the damage.”
“Which magazine?” Trent felt like he was running in seven hundred directions, trying to get ready for the book launch, the IPO, and now dealing with this.
