by Paige Rion
Andi nodded, shoving down the twinge of resentment at his words, which implied she was unaware of the seriousness of the situation. And why did she get the feeling that, once again, he was using one of her friends’ predicaments as a way to get her to quit her job?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Andi stirred her coffee and took a sip. She sighed into her cup, then grabbed the carton of cream and turned. She yelped and brought a hand up to her chest. Ford stood only a couple feet away, watching her from the corner of his eye as he leaned against the refrigerator.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He moved toward her, but Andi sidestepped him, putting the cream back in the fridge. She had avoided him as much as possible that morning, at least as much as one could avoid one’s boss in a three-person office. Still, mystified at Ford’s suddenly vocal and possessive behavior at dinner with Peter, she wasn’t sure what to say to him today.
She started to move toward the hallway to return to the office, when Ford placed a hand on her arm, curling his fingers softly around it to stop her. “I was hoping to talk real quick.”
Turning, she crossed her arms. “Okay, talk,” she said, not wanting to make this any easier on him until she was sure how she felt.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at the floor. At least he has the sense to look sheepish.
“Uh, I got you something,” he said.
Andi’s brows rose. She had expected—what?—an apology. “You got me something?”
“Yeah.” A smile flashed across his face. “Give me a minute.” He rushed out of the room toward the sitting room and was back in seconds with a package wrapped in bright blue paper. He held it out. “Here, take it.”
She stepped forward and took the gift from him. “Thanks,” she said, unsure of herself. She hesitated before slowly tearing away the paper to reveal a large white box. She lifted the lid, swallowing down the flutters that rose inside her stomach. She pushed aside the tissue paper and caught her breath.
“Oh my God.” She laughed, and for some inexplicable reason, tears sprung to her eyes.
Lifting the shoes from the box, she covered her mouth, staring at the glittery Mary Janes, with their round toes and chunky three-inch heels, all of which sparkled gold under the light.
“Where… How did you find these?” She glanced up at him, mouth parted. “Wait. Hold on a second.” She kicked off her worn ballet flats and slid on the gold shoes, buckling the straps and turning her feet to inspect them from every angle. Clapping, she felt like a child, pointing her toes and kicking her feet as she laughed.
Ford grinned. “I thought I would have to order them, have them custom made, but I did some searching and was shocked to find that vintage gold Mary Janes actually existed.” He laughed.
“They’re from the sixties. Ossie Clark, to be exact. He dressed Twiggy, Liza Minelli, and even the Rolling Stones and the Beatles.”
Andi pranced across the kitchen in her shoes, smiling like a loon. “That’s so cool. I can’t believe it—thank you.” She put a hand over her mouth and glanced up at him. “Thank you. This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I mean it, truly.”
Ford shrugged, but he beamed at her. A small smile played on his lips. “Consider it an apology for the other night.”
And with that, he turned and left her standing in the kitchen, staring after him.
#
It was almost quitting time for the day. Andi stopped by the kitchen to clean up before leaving. She put the coffee filters back in the cupboard, along with the sack of grounds. She placed her own mug in the sink and washed all of them, along with the pot, then quickly wiped down the counters.
To her surprise, Rachel entered the kitchen from the hallway. Maybe it was Ford’s gift to her earlier, but for the first time since she had begun working there, she didn’t care about Rachel’s presence. She felt no threat.
Glancing at her, Andi took one look at her face—the dark circles, puffy skin and tear stained cheeks—and knew she had been crying. She dropped the dishcloth, a pang of concern throbbing in her chest.
Rachel put her head down, tucked her chin into her chest and lowered her gaze to the floor as she hurried past. Leaping forward, Andi put an arm out to stop her. “Wait! Rach, are you okay?”
Turning to her, Rachel flipped her hair over her shoulder and straightened. “Yeah, fine.”
“That’s it? You’re fine? You’ve been crying.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Since when do you care? You’ve hardly talked to me all summer. I recall the last time we had a real conversation, you threw me in my pool.”
Guilty. Andi pursed her lips. Could Rachel really blame her, though? “Maybe that’s true but what did you expect? My dream opportunity comes along and you try to ruin it for me. Did you think I’d just lie down and play dead?”
Rachel gave a soft shrug of the shoulders. “Maybe.”
“And weren’t you the one who said there should be no hard feelings?”
A smile played on Rachel’s lips. “Maybe.”
“Even if you are the world’s biggest bitch—” Andi nudged her “—it doesn’t mean I don’t still care about why you’re upset. Truce?” she asked, reaching out.
Smiling, Rachel leaned in to hug her. “Truce.”
“So what’s going on?” Andi swallowed, then forced herself to ask, “Did something happen with you and Ford?”
Rachel’s eyes darted toward the office. “No, nothing happened, but I—I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“Come on. I know it’s been weird this summer, but we’ve told each other everything since the first grade.”
“It’s just that … no one really knows, and if I told you and anyone else found out, it could be trouble for some people. It’s not completely my secret to tell.”
Andi frowned, her thoughts flashing to Carma. Could she have told Rachel, too? Maybe after she admitted everything to Andi, she found it easier to open up to someone else. It certainly seemed plausible. “Are you talking about Carma? Did she tell you?”
Rachel’s forehead knotted. “Carma? What happened to her?”
“Oh, um. She’s just having some … problems with her family. I probably shouldn’t say anything until she tells you herself. But if this isn’t about her, then what’s wrong?”
Rachel looked as if she was about to answer but then glanced down at Andi’s shoes and her eyes widened. “What are those?”
Andi followed her gaze, unable to hide her smile as she stared at the shoes with delight. “Aren’t they great?”
“They’re abominations.” She wrinkled her nose. “Didn’t you have a pair of those as a kid?”
“Yup. Ford found them for me.”
At that, Rachel’s head whipped up. She stared at Andi a moment before asking, “You really like him, don’t you?”
“I don’t…” Andi’s smile fell. “Why would you think—just because he—”
“It’s obvious. And it’s okay. But the sooner you figure that out, the better.”
Andi shook her head, feeling the blade of anger cutting into her words. “You’re trying to change the subject. You never answered my question about why you’re upset.”
Rachel sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with Carma or if it has anything to do with her stepdad, but let’s just say that my family isn’t perfect, either.”
Then, before Andi could ask her any more questions, she left.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Andi scrambled to gather up the myriad of papers spread over her desk and put them in an orderly pile. The week had all but flown by. Ford had her researching nerve disorders for the main character in his book, and she had spent the better part of the afternoon sifting through articles to find the worthy ones and pinpoint the best diseases for him to use.
She brushed the hair away from her face as she crammed everything into a folder. Whatever happened to ‘write what you know?’ But who was she to question the methods of
the man who hit the number one spot on every important bestselling list within hours of a book’s release? He obviously knew a thing or two about what he was doing.
She stopped shuffling the things on her desk and tapped a finger to her lips, her sleep-deprived haze making it hard to concentrate. Maybe she should have put a nerve disorder in her book. Or some rare genetic disease.
Andi grunted and shook her head. Not that again. It had taken her all week to finish her manuscript, type and prepare it. She’d stayed up every single night, only getting a few hours’ sleep at best, to go over every sentence and paragraph, assessing, tweaking, until she got to the point of going mad. Yesterday, when Ford asked her about it, she hit save in a moment of desperation and sent him the file. No more changes. She had to stop sometime; questioning her writing, the book, the plot, every other word, wasn’t doing anything to help her confidence.
Aside from that, the week had gone surprisingly well, considering the debacle at dinner on Saturday night. Ford still hadn’t mentioned the kiss at the cove, and there was no way Andi was going to ask him about it, but his gift seemed to have lifted the wall between them, putting them back to where they’d started in the beginning of the summer.
As she readied her things to go home, Andi grabbed her cell phone and checked it for any messages from Carma. She had been trying to reach her all week, but her calls went straight to voice-mail. She hadn’t called her back, which made Andi worry. Ford was looking into employment possibilities, but thus far, had come up short, leaving Andi feeling helpless. She had no idea how to get Carma what she wanted on her own and couldn’t help but wonder if she should tell Ford the entire truth; surely that would change the urgency with which he looked. Especially after the way Carma had behaved with him on her audition. If she told him the whole story, she wouldn’t be surprised if he created a position for Carma just to help her out. But she felt at a loss. She hadn’t told him about Carma’s stepfather because she had made her a promise not to tell anyone, and so, her hands were tied until Carma gave her the go-ahead.
Picking her bag up off the floor, Andi slung it over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the desk. She had just enough time to run home, grab a five-minute shower and get ready for Peter’s big dinner before he picked her up and they made the forty minute drive into the city.
She thought of the dress he’d bought her to wear. A brand new black sheath from Macy’s, a tad too short, with a scooped neckline that would reveal her generous cleavage. Not at all her taste. Regardless, tonight was his dinner, and she would wear it with a smile.
Ford’s door to his office popped open just as Andi brushed by.
“Oh, hey. Do you have a minute? I need something.” Ford stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of khaki cargo pants and an NYU t-shirt, his expression hopeful.
“Uh...” Andi glanced at her watch. She had forty-five minutes before Peter arrived at her house to pick her up.
“It’s important,” Ford said when she made no move toward him.
Ms. Perry stepped in front of her, peering at her from above her hideous glasses. “You can go ahead. I’ll help like I always do. You wouldn’t want to be late, and I’m probably more qualified to assist in whatever it is.”
Ford stepped forward. “Actually I—”
“Actually, I have a little time to spare.” Andi flashed a smile at Ford, then Ms. Perry.
Ford clasped his hands together. “Great! Whenever you’re ready.”
Andi watched him disappear inside his office, leaving the door cracked, then she turned back to Ms. Perry. She placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I just wanted to thank you.”
Ms. Perry glanced down at her shoulder and grimaced. “For what?” she hissed.
“Oh, you know,” she said in a syrupy-sweet voice. “For putting my notebook on Ford’s desk a few weeks ago. The one that had my manuscript in it? It turns out he read the whole thing and loved it. He’s even recommending it to his agent. I just turned the completed copy into him yesterday.” She smirked. “So thanks again.”
Ms. Perry narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Andi expected her to stomp her foot, like a child, at any moment. She gave her shoulder one last pat and turned into Ford’s office, stifling a giggle.
She stopped in front of his desk. Ford leaned back in his seat, his hands clasped behind his head. He looked more relaxed and happier than she had seen him since she’d started the job. She had no idea what was going on with his mother and his current situation, having avoided all personal conversation the past couple weeks, but if his current demeanor meant anything, something had turned around for him this week.
“So what’s up?” Andi asked, glancing at her watch one last time. If she skipped her shower, sped through town and styled her hair really fast, she could still spare a few minutes and make it in time. No worries.
“I just spoke with my agent, Candy DeWitt. I told her all about you, your talent, how ambitious you are, and how much I loved your book. Needless to say, she’s more than intrigued. She said she hasn’t even requested a full in months, hasn’t taken on a client in even longer. She wants your manuscript on her desk yesterday. And I have it ready to go, but we need a query letter.” He leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. “It’s kind of a formality. A stupid one in this case, if you ask me, but still … I think she’s leaning toward asking for an exclusive read.”
Oh my God! Ford’s agent … intrigued … exclusive read? He had her manuscript ready to go? Andi pushed down the urge to jump up and down and squeal, but remembered that the last time she did that, she almost drowned. And Ford had kissed her…maybe.
But this was big. Very big.
Andi moved to the chair in front of his desk and took a seat, totally focused. “Okay, I need help. Where do I start?” she asked, trying to tamp down her excitement.
She had heard of the dreaded query letter. She’d even taken a workshop on crafting a successful letter last fall, so she knew enough to know the one page letter could make or break you. It determined whether anyone read so much as a sentence of your work. If your letter stunk, too bad. Agents received hundreds of letters a day and based your worthiness as a writer on this one thing.
As nerves began to set in, Andi bit her lip. She started calculating the length of time this would take. It could take days, let alone the few minutes she had. Releasing her lip from her teeth, she asked, “What time frame are we looking at?”
Ford’s expression turned sheepish. He grinned and toyed with the pen on his desk. “She wants it by the end of the day.”
Andi’s jaw dropped. “What? How am I supposed to write one that fast? And why does she need it so soon?”
Ford pointed to himself with the pen. “That’s why you have me, your secret weapon. She needs it by tonight because she goes on vacation next week. She expects she’ll like the manuscript, since I’ve raved about it, but she needs the letter because she uses it in her pitch to publishers. Plus, she likes to read a query before she dives into a full book, even if it is based off my recommendation.”
If she stayed, she would be late for Peter’s dinner. Shit.
Andi placed a hand over her chest, where her pulse leaped as she weighed her options. Swallowing, she closed her eyes. A headache blossomed around her temples. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “What if I can’t do it? By tonight, I mean.”
When she opened her eyes, she saw Ford frowning. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you do it tonight? You’re here. We can put one together in the next hour or two. It just takes some brainstorming. If we don’t send it to her tonight, it will send the message that you’re not serious. What could be more important than this?”
Andi put her fingers to her temples. He was right. What was more important? Yes, Peter’s dinner was important for him, for his career. And while her support was wanted tonight, this was her big chance.
She glanced at her watch one last time. If she left straight from here and drove to the restaura
nt herself, that gave her an extra thirty minutes. She had her makeup bag in the car. She could freshen her face on the way, and her navy pants and white blouse would have to do. Peter would just have to be disappointed that she didn’t wear the dress he bought her.
She could do this.
“Okay.” Andi held up a finger and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Just give me one minute.”
Ford nodded and she turned away from him, moving to the corner of his office as she dialed Peter’s number. When he didn’t answer, she texted him.
Something came up. I’m just running a bit behind at work, but I will be there at six, as planned. I’ll meet you at the restaurant instead. I know my way. Love you.
She turned back to Ford, a smile on her face.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yep. We’re going to write the best damn query letter. In record time.” She walked back to her seat and plopped herself down. “Thirty minutes,” she muttered.
Ford raised a brow at her, then grabbed his pen and a blank piece of paper. “Let’s go then. We need to sum up the entire manuscript in two short paragraphs. But first we need a hook. The first sentence needs to draw the reader in.”
Andi moaned like an injured animal. “No problem. Sum up a three-hundred-fifty page novel in a matter of sentences.”
Ford laughed. “How about we start by reading the backs of some published novels. It’ll give you an idea of what yours should sound like.” He reached to the shelf next to him. “Ah, I happen to have a collection of Ford Delaney novels right here.”
Andi smirked. “What do ya know?”
She grabbed the books he offered, rubbing the smooth covers with the tips of her fingers, and suddenly, it all became real. These could be her books someday. She would be able to hold them in her hands, skim through the pages and see her own words in print. This step was one giant leap in the right direction. Writing this query letter and sending her book off to Ford’s agent was only the beginning. Andi smiled, forgetting her worries about being late, and began to read.
