She rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, I like the way you think. What else?”
“Um, I don’t know, but I promise I’ll give it some thought.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. I’ve been thinking I might buy a house too. I’ve been renting that apartment since I left Joe and it’s time I settled down. You know, put down roots somewhere.”
I turned to have a good look at her. This didn’t seem like Grace at all. Or maybe I’d never paid proper attention to who she really was? “Where?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I just want to do some things that are about me, Grace Fletcher. Not Joe’s wife. Not John’s wife. Not mini-Mom …” Her voice trailed off and she laughed as she saw my jaw drop. “Did you think I didn’t know you called me that behind my back?”
My stomach fell to the floor. “Grace, I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay, I know that’s what I was, but I want to be me now. I don’t want to get married again—well, at least not for twenty or thirty years. I just want to be me. I want to buy my own house and have a job. What do you think?” She bit her lip as if my opinion really mattered.
I was bursting with pride and just narrowly avoided reaching over to hug her. “I think you’ll do great.”
The tension in her shoulders fell away and she looked as if she’d bubble over with enthusiasm. “I’m in no rush, either. I’ll take my time and find the best job for me.”
I poured the teas and took them to the table. “I’ve got an idea for something that could keep you occupied in the meantime—the reason I called you, actually.”
She blew on her tea. “Sounds intriguing.”
“There’s a boy on Los Alamos Court. Well, he’s not really a boy, he’s seventeen, but his parents have basically neglected him and he really needs someone to take him under their wing …” I left it dangling, hoping she’d catch on.
She cocked her head to the side, pigtails swaying. “Wouldn’t he be better with a man?”
“Maybe, but I was thinking you could coach him in how to talk to girls, that sort of thing.”
“My own little protégé?” Her eyes blazed with life. “I could mold him into the perfect man!”
I thought of the raw materials she’d be working with. “Er … sure.”
She sat up straighter, hands gesturing. “It’ll be just like My Fair Lady, but I’ll be the professor and he’d be Eliza Doolittle.”
“Um … right.” It seemed I’d created another monster. There was something of a horror movie about that—creating one monster to deal with the first one I’d made.
I shook my head and remembered the other issue I needed to discuss. “By the way, have you spoken to Mom lately?”
She nodded. “This morning. Why?”
I knew it! “I think she’s avoiding me. I haven’t been able to get hold of her for two weeks.”
“That’s strange.” She frowned. “I’ve spoken to her a few times since then.”
I rubbed my temples. My mother was causing migraines without speaking to me now. Powerful woman. “I’m pretty sure she’s screening her calls.”
“But why would she do that?”
“One word: Kevin.”
“Oh, that’s right—she mentioned she’d broken up with him. Hey, do you want to call her on my cell?”
I thought about it. I really didn’t want to have the Kevin conversation with her, it was far from my favorite topic. But what I wanted even less was to turn up the next day at work and face the man himself if I hadn’t found Mom. He was already starting to suspect that I’d lied about not reaching her. The man who held both my job and the page location of my future stories in his hands was not a man I wanted annoyed with me.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Grace retrieved her bag and handed me the cell.
My mother answered on the second ring. “Grace, dahlin’, so lovely to hear from you.”
“It’s Tobi,” I said, not hiding the cynicism.
“Ah. Tobi. Fabulous to hear your voice, but really, I’m in the middle of—”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I only need two minutes—you owe me that. You knew when you decided to date my boss it could cause problems for me, so I won’t let you fob me off now the problems are here.”
She sighed melodramatically. “All right, I have about a minute.”
Now I had her I realized I didn’t actually have a question. “Um … I need to know what happened with Kevin.”
Her bracelets jangled and I pictured her sinking into a chair. “Sugah, he’s a lovely man, but we just weren’t suited. You probably think I’m wicked, but honestly, he bored me to tears.”
The echo of my treatment of my former editor—who I’d dated then dumped when he bored me—hit me between the eyes. “But, I think he really likes you,” I stammered.
“That’s very sweet, but I’ve moved on, dahlin’. Speaking of which, would you like to meet Bradley? Perhaps I could give a little dinner party …” She continued with her plans but I was no longer listening. I handed the cell to Grace and jumped up to get a glass of water to ease the ache in my throat.
I’d dumped my ex-editor the same way and for the same reason my mother had dumped my current editor. All these years I’d thought I was nothing like her—and now this. I leaned against the sink for support.
And even more scary—I’d always defined myself as being the opposite to Grace and our mother, so … if Grace wasn’t who I thought she was … and I wasn’t the reverse to Mom … then who the hell was I?
And how did whoever-I-was feel about that?
*
The next morning I rapped on Kevin’s door.
“Come in.”
His head jerked up when he saw me, a touch of wildness in his eyes. “Fletcher, did you speak to your mother?”
“Yes, actually, I did.” I perched on the edge of a chair.
“Did she mention me?” When I hesitated, he fired off more rounds. “Does she want to see me? No, otherwise she’d answer my calls. What does she want? I can be different—did you tell her that? How is she? Does—”
“Kevin,” I said gently.
His voice was getting louder and more insistent, and my heart squeezed for him that he was working himself into a state when I had nothing to offer him. But he didn’t seem to have heard me. “—she look well? Did you tell her I miss her? Of course you did, you’re a good girl. Why—”
“Kevin.”
He was turning red, but didn’t falter. “—did she dump me? Did she tell you that? The real reason? Because that crap she told me—”
“Kevin!”
“What?” He frowned as if surprised by my interruption.
“I don’t know any more than you.”
The phone on his desk rang, interrupting us. He answered it then said, “Yes, she’s here. Put it through to her desk.”
He hung up then looked back at me. “Fletcher, a call for you. It’s long distance so scoot on back to your desk. We’ll finish this later.”
“Okay, thanks.” I dashed out. Since the Frank Porter stories I’d been getting calls from all over the country—very different calls to the ones after the gnome stories. No one laughed in these calls. Some were congratulatory, some researching their own articles. The former senator was now a bona fide celebrity across the globe.
I slid into my chair and picked up the ringing receiver. “Tobi Fletcher.”
“Good morning, Ms. Fletcher. This is Rene Michaels from Under the Microscope.”
My jaw dropped and I was glad she couldn’t see me. This woman was my hero. She had a distinguished career in stories that Made a Difference. She’d broken too many huge stories to count and she had worldwide respect for her journalism. She had two Pulitzer Prizes. It was rumored this woman could get an interview with God himself if she wanted. And she had the cherry on top of any journalist’s career—she was editor for Under the Microscope—bigger than Time magazine and higher circulation than the New York Times. This
woman was the closest thing to royalty that the industry had—and she’d rung me.
“Er, hello,” I said, displaying my mastery of the language.
“I’ve been reading your articles on the Frank Porter matter. They’re great pieces of reporting.”
Think of something witty and wise to say. “Um, thanks.”
“I also read your gnome articles.”
Uh oh. My excitement dipped. “You did?”
“I loved them. In fact, they’re what made up my mind. I’m looking for a new staff reporter and I want you.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
She laughed. “Yes, you. We cover major political issues across the globe. I need someone who’s up to the heavy topics but also has the breadth of ability you displayed with those quirky human interest stories.”
“Oh. My. Lord.” I could barely let myself believe it.
“The position is located here in New York, but will involve some travel.”
“Er, okay, that sounds good.” I had to force my mind to absorb the words. I was still stuck on “I want you.”
“The salary is generous but the work is challenging. Are you up to the challenge?”
Up to the challenge? My spine stiffened and I had a strange desire to salute and call her ma’am. “Yes. Yes, I am. But … when do I need to give you an answer?”
“I’m really sorry, but I need to know within twenty-four hours. Life goes on whether we have staff to cover it or not.”
“Okay, thank you, Ms. Michaels. This is a dream come true. Such an honor. Thank you.”
She gave me the number of her direct line and we hung up.
I sat staring at the phone, wondering if it’d been a dream. The number I’d written on my blotter stared back at me confirming the truth. Would I take it? Why on Earth wouldn’t I?
I drifted over to the coffee machine and poured myself an espresso, still in a fog.
Reasons for staying flicked through my mind. Family. Not my parents or Grampa Jack, though: Grace. I’d just connected with her. Did I want to leave that? Friends—Cameron, Sofia … oh, no. Sofia. How would she react to me being offered this and not her? We’d worked on those stories together.
I stirred in three sugars, figuring I needed the extra verve.
Simon. Could I leave Simon? Though, hadn’t I decided to have a short-term fling with him? This job would be the perfect get-away excuse.
My stomach clenched. No, I didn’t want to hurt him. I mightn’t have been my most communicative with him lately, but I wouldn’t make up an excuse to leave him. I’d honor him with absolute honesty when I ran away like a scared little field mouse.
A punch registered on my arm. “Hey, Fletcher, you gonna hog the coffee maker all day? The rest of us have addictions, too.”
I stepped aside. “Sorry, Matias. There you go.”
He reached for a cup then stopped. “You said sorry. Is something wrong?”
I knew he meant it as a joke, but I didn’t laugh. I was still swimming in the waters of stunned-and-surprised. “Nothing wrong. In fact, something may be right.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Care to share?”
I bit my lip and looked at him. “You know what? I would. But not here.”
“Supply closet?” he asked, deadpan.
A grin tugged at my mouth. “Perfect. Bring your coffee.”
I walked ahead and waited for him. When he came in I said, “Lock it.”
“Ooh, I’m getting a flashback.” He waggled his brows and I let myself grin this time.
“Okay, Fletcher, spill.”
I tapped my nails against the coffee mug. “I just got another job offer.”
He leaned back against the door. “I’m not surprised—they were damn good articles you filed.”
“From Under the Microscope.”
He gaped like a fish. “You’re friggin’ joking!”
His reaction—or maybe just telling someone—made it more real, and excitement bubbled through my veins. “No joke. Rene Michaels just called.”
He grabbed my coffee and plonked it down with his, then lifted me into a bear hug. “That’s freakin’ fantastic, Fletcher! Congratulations.”
He spun me around and I laughed. “I should take it, shouldn’t I?”
He stopped and dropped me. “What?”
“Um, you know.” I shrugged. “I should say yes.”
His eyes almost popped. “You mean you didn’t already?”
“She gave me twenty-four hours.” I picked up my coffee and sipped.
“For God’s sake, why didn’t you snap up the offer on the phone? This is a once-in-a-lifetime job. I’d kill for that position. Call her back now.” He pointed to the door.
I glanced from the door back to him. “The job’s in New York.”
“Of course it is. So what?” His exasperation leaped at me as clearly as his words.
“I’d be leaving my whole life behind.” Again, my mind flicked through reasons for staying.
“What life?”
I rested my cup on the counter and twirled it absently. “I met this guy …”
He raised his face and fists to the ceiling. “I don’t believe it.” He looked back at me and grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me, Fletcher. You will not give this up for some guy. This is big. There are almost two billion men on the planet. You’ll find another one. How many jobs like this are there?”
Good point. Score one for New York. “I’d miss green chile—I’ve heard it’s hard to find in New York. I’d miss the farolitos at Christmas. I’d miss my sister …”
He shook my shoulders lightly. “Are you listening to yourself? You’d miss your sister? You’ve met some guy? This is the biggest thing that could happen to your career. It won’t happen again. It won’t happen to most journalists.” He released my shoulders and laid a hand on his heart with dramatic flair. “Promise me you won’t throw this away because you’re too scared to leave home?”
He was right. I knew it. Score two for New York. The churning in my stomach was fear. Maybe I was scared about stepping up to the challenge? The pressure to prove myself would be mammoth. A slow smile spread across my face. If there was one thing I was well practiced at, it was proving myself.
“You’re absolutely right, Matias.” I reached up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.” I flipped the lock on the door and paused before leaving. “You’re a great guy, Matias. I wish …”
He pointed to the door. “Just go and accept the job, Fletcher.”
Then he winked and I knew he knew what I meant. I smiled and dashed for my desk. But instead of grabbing the phone, I snatched my bag and keys and headed for the parking lot.
Twenty minutes later, I knocked on Grace’s penthouse door.
“Tobi, hon.” She pulled me into a hug and for the first time I relaxed into it and hugged her back. “What a nice surprise.”
I followed her past her views that went forever. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.” She flopped on her overstuffed couch.
I sat beside her, tentative about putting it into words. “I’ve been offered my dream job.”
“Good for you!” she squealed.
“It’s in New York.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
I took a deep breath, holding it for a second before speaking. “I’m thinking I’ll take it.”
She plastered on her compensation smile and I was glad I knew her enough to recognize it now. “You should take it if it’s your dream.”
“I’d leave everything behind. You …”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll come and visit. You’ll probably kick me out, I’ll be there so much.”
My stomach eased a little but was still tight and fluttering, which I was sure was just excitement.
“Tobi, is there anything else keeping you here? What about hunky Simon?”
“Well, yes, there’s him.” I looked out her floor-to-ceiling window. “What if he’s ‘the one’?”
Her expression grew serious. “One thing I’ve learned from my life is you can’t make your decisions based on a man. Look where it’s got me. This decision has to be for you. You said this job was your dream?”
I nodded. “Ever since I was at college.”
“Then you have to do it.” She threw her hands out as if that was that. “You know I’m a fan of Simon, but I’m a bigger fan of you.”
I leaned over and squeezed her tight. “Thanks, Grace. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
She hugged me back then released me, but kept hold of my forearm. “You going to tell him now?”
“Yes, I need to.” A wave of nausea washed through me at the thought but it’d be worse if I put it off.
“Good luck.” She gave my arm a little pat, then let go. “And remember you don’t want to be stuck regretting not chasing your dream for the rest of your life.”
Score three for New York.
I left her apartment and called Simon at work.
“Hey, Tobi. Long time, no hear.”
“Yeah, sorry. I know I said I’d call and I meant to …”
He chuckled, low and velvety. “I can read, Tobi. I know where you’ve been spending your time. Congratulations by the way.”
“Thanks. Look, can I drop in on you at work? There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Hmm, I don’t like the sound of that. When?”
“I’m in the car now. How about in ten minutes?”
“Okay, I’ll be here.”
For the rest of the drive and the way up to his office, I practiced words. I knew he’d try to lure me to stay but Matias and Grace were right—I couldn’t forget my dream over a man. No matter how amazing that man was.
His receptionist showed me into the office where I’d first met him all those months ago. He was wearing a midnight-blue shirt, the same color as his eyes, and I almost melted in a puddle at his feet. Well, no one said this would be easy.
He walked over, took my hand and wrapped it behind his back, then kissed me lightly before releasing me again.
“Good morning, Tobi.” His voice reverberated through every bone and cell in my body.
“Simon, I have to tell you something.”
One side of his mouth quirked. “So you said.”
No use beating around the bush—dragging this out would only make it messier for everyone. “I was offered the job of a lifetime this morning. In New York. With Under the Microscope.”
Cover Story Page 20
