Lindsay worked from home, so now that she was dressed and ready for the day, she didn’t really have anywhere to go. She sat down at her desk with her notes from an interview she’d conducted with a Brooklyn-based chef who was fresh off his win on a popular competition reality show. She turned off her phone so that she could focus on finishing the story. Once she sent it in, she turned her phone back on. Three seconds after it powered on, it rang.
After Lindsay answered, the caller said, “I’m Erica Sanchez. I’m a features editor at theNew York Forum.”
“Hi,” Lindsay said, wondering what this was about. TheForumwas one of the last weekly newspapers still standing in New York. They kept their print edition afloat by building a huge audience for their website, where, in addition to running a digital version of the paper, they had several blogs about pop culture, food, fashion, and politics.
“I saw your review of Pepper this morning,” said Erica. “But I’ve actually been following you for a little while. That review you wrote last year about that Florent in Midtown?”
“Still the best filet mignon I’ve ever had. You could cut it with a fork, it was so tender.”
“Yeah, that was a great review. Very visceral. I could almost taste the steak as I read.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“I’ll cut to the chase. TheForumhas been on the hunt for a new food editor after Frank left us a few weeks ago.”
Lindsay’s heart pounded. Frank McElroy was a legend in the food world, one of the best-known restaurant reviewers and food writers in the country. He was also in his seventies and had just retired.
“Are you interested? Responsibilities would include writing reviews and other food-related articles as well as assigning articles to some of our other food writers and interns. Some other things, too. But what do you say?”
This would be a huge step up for her. All because she’d made fun of a restaurant owned by a celebrity. But still, this was the kind of break she’d been hoping for the last few years as she’d transitioned away from being a line cook after culinary school to being a food writer. Dawn had been a great boss, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
“I’m very interested,” said Lindsay.
“Wonderful! Let’s meet to talk about it. Are you free for lunch today?”
A few hours later, Lindsay had been officially offered the job as food editor at theNew York Forum. In exchange for a salary and benefits, something she hadn’t had in a few years, she had to show up in the office a few days a week, but this job was everything she’d been wanting. Someone was going to pay her a good salary to write about food, and she would manage a small group of writers.
As she walked to the subway from her lunch with Erica Sanchez, she called Lauren. After explaining what happened, she said, “We’re getting drinks tonight. Bring the baby if you have to. I’m celebrating.”
Lauren laughed. “I think I can get Caleb to watch Hannah. What is a husband for if not to watch the baby when your friend got amazing news? And I want to celebrate, too.”
“Why?”
“Okay, don’t hate me. But Brad is doing a great job. We’ve sold out of his pastries every day since he started here, and we’re starting to sell his cat treats, too. We totally sold out of those yesterday.”
“I still can’t get over that he’s making cat treats.”
“I know you hate him, but he’s a great baker.”
“Right. We’ll be discussing that later.”
“And also scum on an old bathtub.”
Lauren laughed, but Lindsay wasn’t kidding. Brad was the villain of her story.
They made plans to get drinks at Pop with the regular crew that night, and Lindsay got off the phone and ran down the steps to the subway. She was not going to let Brad ruin her amazing day.
***
“Was that Lindsay?” Brad asked when Lauren got off the phone.
One of the regular baristas had called in sick, so he was helping out at the counter after all of his baking was done for the day. He didn’t mind and actually quite liked talking to customers. They were in the midafternoon slump at the café, the weekday dead time after lunch but before the evening crowd, so Brad had been busying himself rearranging his pastries in the display case. He’d made cupcakes today that he’d decorated with frosting to look like cat faces, and those had proven to be quite popular.
“It was Lindsay,” said Lauren ruefully. “She’s still mad, by the way.”
“I figured. I feel like maybe I should call her. Clear the air.”
“Yeah. I mean, she hates your guts, so I don’t see her coming to the cat café as long as you’re employed here, so you’re probably safe, but just for everyone’s peace of mind, it can’t hurt to reach out.”
