going by yourself?’
Hugh looked a little pained. ‘Actually. No. Um … I’m going with Gerri. Her cousin has a condo down there that he’s lending us for the week.’
‘Gerri?’ said Eden, taken aback. ‘I thought you two were just … friends.’
‘We are friends,’ Hugh said firmly. ‘And my friend asked me if I wanted to go to Florida.’
‘Okay,’ said Eden slowly. ‘How long have you known about this?’
‘Not long. It was kind of spur of the moment.’
‘Dad, you’re not spontaneous,’ said Eden.
Hugh smiled shyly. ‘Okay, okay. It’s something we talked about on and off for a while. Gerri was thinking of asking her cousin, and then the cousin just called and offered. So, it seemed like … the thing to do.’
‘Well, great,’ said Eden, trying to mean it. My father is going away with a girlfriend, and I can’t even get a date, she thought. But whatever.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he said sincerely.
‘It’s only two weeks,’ said Eden.
‘I always miss you,’ he said.
‘I know, Dad. Listen. You have a wonderful time.’
Their parting was fond, but not sad. Eden was proud of herself for that. Part of her wanted to just climb into his pocket and stay there. But her life had to go on.
And so did his.
A few days after she bid her father farewell, Eden got a call from Rob Newsome, the editorial director.
‘Eden,’ he said. ‘Mr DeLaurier would like us to come to a meeting in his office at four o’clock.’
‘What’s it about?’ she asked. She had never been summoned by the publisher before. It was a family business, one of the few left in New York publishing, which had been started by Maurice DeLaurier’s great-uncle nearly a hundred years earlier. Maurice was widely considered to be a shrewd CEO, who had grown the business from the small house it had been when he inherited it. Eden had met him when Rob Newsome hired her, but after that she had done little more than exchange polite greetings with the impeccably turned-out executive.
‘A new project. I really can’t say any more than that. I’ll see you at Maurice’s office at four.’
‘Okay,’ said Eden.
At four o’clock she refreshed her make-up, straightened her form-fitting knit dress, and walked down the corridor toward the publisher’s office. She got a nod to enter from his assistant. Eden tapped on the door then went in. The office had a wall of windows overlooking 57th Street, and the afternoon sun had turned the room, which was lined with bookshelves and furnished in leather and rich-looking carpets, to a blinding red gold. Eden closed the door and approached the conversation area where the two men were sitting. Maurice DeLaurier stood up politely and indicated a club chair.
‘Eden, thanks for coming. Won’t you have a seat?’
She glanced at Rob, and sat down in the empty chair.
‘It’s good to see you back at work. You’ve been through a difficult time.’
‘Thank you for the flowers,’ said Eden. Although she doubted that he even knew about the flowers, he nodded graciously.
‘Little enough,’ he said, ‘under the circumstances. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll come straight to the point. I’ve asked you both here because I’ve been having some conversations with Gideon Lendl. He has made us a most interesting proposal.’
Eden immediately recognized the name of one of the most powerful literary agents in New York. ‘Gideon Lendl himself?’ she asked. She knew that it was unusual for Gideon Lendl to personally represent an author. His authors tended to be quite literary but also commercial, often landing on the best-seller list. Usually, the bigger, better-known publishing houses landed Gideon Lendl’s clients. She felt a little thrill of excitement at this news.
She glanced at Rob. His face was expressionless and his eyes were fixed on the publisher. Eden felt as if he was avoiding her questioning gaze. She turned back to Maurice. ‘Is it a celebrity author?’ she asked. They
Hugh looked a little pained. ‘Actually. No. Um … I’m going with Gerri. Her cousin has a condo down there that he’s lending us for the week.’
‘Gerri?’ said Eden, taken aback. ‘I thought you two were just … friends.’
‘We are friends,’ Hugh said firmly. ‘And my friend asked me if I wanted to go to Florida.’
‘Okay,’ said Eden slowly. ‘How long have you known about this?’
‘Not long. It was kind of spur of the moment.’
‘Dad, you’re not spontaneous,’ said Eden.
Hugh smiled shyly. ‘Okay, okay. It’s something we talked about on and off for a while. Gerri was thinking of asking her cousin, and then the cousin just called and offered. So, it seemed like … the thing to do.’
‘Well, great,’ said Eden, trying to mean it. My father is going away with a girlfriend, and I can’t even get a date, she thought. But whatever.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he said sincerely.
‘It’s only two weeks,’ said Eden.
‘I always miss you,’ he said.
‘I know, Dad. Listen. You have a wonderful time.’
Their parting was fond, but not sad. Eden was proud of herself for that. Part of her wanted to just climb into his pocket and stay there. But her life had to go on.
And so did his.
A few days after she bid her father farewell, Eden got a call from Rob Newsome, the editorial director.
‘Eden,’ he said. ‘Mr DeLaurier would like us to come to a meeting in his office at four o’clock.’
‘What’s it about?’ she asked. She had never been summoned by the publisher before. It was a family business, one of the few left in New York publishing, which had been started by Maurice DeLaurier’s great-uncle nearly a hundred years earlier. Maurice was widely considered to be a shrewd CEO, who had grown the business from the small house it had been when he inherited it. Eden had met him when Rob Newsome hired her, but after that she had done little more than exchange polite greetings with the impeccably turned-out executive.
‘A new project. I really can’t say any more than that. I’ll see you at Maurice’s office at four.’
‘Okay,’ said Eden.
At four o’clock she refreshed her make-up, straightened her form-fitting knit dress, and walked down the corridor toward the publisher’s office. She got a nod to enter from his assistant. Eden tapped on the door then went in. The office had a wall of windows overlooking 57th Street, and the afternoon sun had turned the room, which was lined with bookshelves and furnished in leather and rich-looking carpets, to a blinding red gold. Eden closed the door and approached the conversation area where the two men were sitting. Maurice DeLaurier stood up politely and indicated a club chair.
‘Eden, thanks for coming. Won’t you have a seat?’
She glanced at Rob, and sat down in the empty chair.
‘It’s good to see you back at work. You’ve been through a difficult time.’
‘Thank you for the flowers,’ said Eden. Although she doubted that he even knew about the flowers, he nodded graciously.
‘Little enough,’ he said, ‘under the circumstances. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll come straight to the point. I’ve asked you both here because I’ve been having some conversations with Gideon Lendl. He has made us a most interesting proposal.’
Eden immediately recognized the name of one of the most powerful literary agents in New York. ‘Gideon Lendl himself?’ she asked. She knew that it was unusual for Gideon Lendl to personally represent an author. His authors tended to be quite literary but also commercial, often landing on the best-seller list. Usually, the bigger, better-known publishing houses landed Gideon Lendl’s clients. She felt a little thrill of excitement at this news.
She glanced at Rob. His face was expressionless and his eyes were fixed on the publisher. Eden felt as if he was avoiding her questioning gaze. She turned back to Maurice. ‘Is it a celebrity author?’ she asked. They
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