“This is Ensley.”
“Hey, it’s Susan. I’ve got some news to share.”
Ensley’s antenna shot straight up at the sound of her boss’s voice, and she paused on the doorstep. Susan’s terseness wasn’t normal, but Ensley couldn’t imagine what was wrong.
“It’s not good news, is it?” Ensley asked.
Susan let out a long sigh. “No, it’s not, and I can’t do anything to soften it. So here it is—”
Ensley held her breath.
Don’t let it be the Roosevelt book, please.
“I just got word that Simon & Sandler has purchased our publishing house, and they’re laying off most of our editorial staff. I’m sorry.”
Ensley took a quick breath. “But what about my client, Professor Whiteside, and his Roosevelt book?”
“That’s just like you, Ensley, to worry about your client and not the loss of your job. They assigned the professor to another editor.”
She’d tied all her hopes and aspirations to the tail of that book. “I’ve waited for this manuscript, this client to come along. It’s a perfect fit with my skill set.” She wasn’t a crier, but damn, this hurt. “So you’re saying I’ve lost my client and my job?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can call? I’ll even work for free just to edit his manuscript.” And she would, too, but no one would agree to that. “It took forever to set up an appointment with the professor. I’ll call him at home tonight.”
“That’s not necessary.” Susan sighed again. “They canceled your appointment and set up another one with the new editor.”
“Already?” Just like that—one phone call—and it was all taken away from her.
“The new editor has already contacted him and scheduled a Zoom meeting for next week.”
“Zoom meeting? Really? I took the train up here, traveled on my dime and my time, to meet him in person. His new editor won’t give him the time he needs to develop his manuscript, and you know it.”
“You always go the extra mile, Ensley. But in this case, it’s out of my hands and out of yours, too.”
They were letting her go and giving away her dream client. In a daze, she rolled her suitcase to the bottom of the staircase, dropped her purse and computer bag, and left them there as a wave of hot, stuffy air nearly wilted her on the spot.
“When does this all go down?” She dragged herself to the Nest thermostat to turn on the air conditioner. There was another long sigh on the other end of the phone, and it was beginning to annoy her. Ensley deserved to be the one sighing.
She set her goal to become an editor at a New York City publishing house at the beginning of her senior year in high school. She’d worked her ass off, gotten her dream job, and now a nameless person at the top of an org chart yanked it away. Just like that!
“It’s all done, Ensley. I’m sorry. You can come in tomorrow and clean out your desk.”
Her lips quivered, and she could barely speak, but she managed to say, “I’m in Cambridge. Can it wait until Monday?”
“Sure…but Ensley, they won’t pay your food and hotel expenses.”
Well, why don’t you just kick me when I’m down?
They had approved her meeting with Professor Whiteside at his office in the history department at Harvard, and now they weren’t paying for her hotel. She wasn’t staying in one, but still, it was the principle of the thing.
And it sucked.
“I’ll just submit my transportation expenses. No hotel. No food.”
“Look, I feel so bad about this.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. It would have been better, though, if you told me before I took the train up here.”
“I just got off the phone with the president of the publishing house and decided to call you first so you could turn around and come back to New York.”
That’s big of you.
Ensley sat down in a spoon-back hall chair in the foyer. “Is your job safe?”
“For right now, but who knows what will happen tomorrow. If you need a letter of recommendation, let me know.”
“That will help. Thanks.”
“I’ll do it right now so I can sign it as senior editor,” Susan said. “In case…well…in case things change.”
“I hope you keep your job. The house would be stupid to let you go.”
“That’s the way I feel about you. You’re an excellent editor, and I wish you the best. If you ever write the next Great American Novel, I hope you’ll give me a chance to read it—wherever I am.”
“Sure thing.” Ensley couldn’t even say goodbye. She just disconnected the call.
Her phone rang again. She didn’t want to talk to anyone else, but she checked the caller ID anyway. Her BFF’s name—Barb—flashed on the screen. If she didn’t take the call, Barb would call back in a few minutes.
Ensley needed a moment to regroup, so she let the call go unanswered and took several deep breaths until she got herself under control. When Barb called back, Ensley answered. Barb’s sweaty face appeared on the screen, with Central Park’s Dene Slope filling the screen’s background.
“Hey, girl. It looks like you’re in the park. How far did you run?”
“The full loop,” Barb said. “All six-point-one miles. I thought you’d be here for the group run. Where are you?”
“Cambridge. I told you last week. Have you forgotten already?”
“You know I don’t remember anything if I don’t write it down,” Barb reminded her.
“Look at the calendar on your phone, girlfriend. Today is Thursday, and you did write it down.”
“Okay, I believe you.” Barb sat down on the rustic bench overlooking a wildflower meadow—one of their favorite places in the park—and she wiped her forehead with the bottom of her tech shirt. “I was hoping you were free for dinner. I guess that’s a no.”
“I’ll be here until Saturday afternoon. If you want to have dinner when I get back, let’s make it late.”
Barb removed her ball cap and used it to fan her face. “That might work. Although I
