Prologue
The Zoom of Doom
Blair Kellermoon hated Zoom.
She pined for the humble telephone, for the old days when she didn’t have to look at herself while she conducted business. Of course, in the old days, she’d have been happy to look at herself. Well, no, she wouldn’t have; she’d have found plenty to critique. She hadn’t known how good she had it. She’d had smooth skin and a Pilates-honed body that had yet to house and nourish two tiny humans. She had easily fit into the sample sizes designers sent her, and she’d had no idea that retinol was a thing that existed.
Before she accepted the incoming call, she looked at the unforgiving square, the little cell that confined her thirty-eight-year-old face, and said what her mother always used to say to her: “You, Blair Kellermoon, are fine as a frog hair split four ways.”
Of course, her mother only ever used to say that before a dance, when Blair was turned out in her best debutante white, pearled and gloved and coiffed and ready to be lined up like a blue ribbon–vying pecan pie being judged at the Georgia state fair.
Blair personally thought she was cuter when she was executing a major business deal.
A deal withJack Branksome. She was so excited, her cheeks might break from all the smiling. She forced herself into a more neutral expression before switching on her camera. She had learned the hardway that the dimples that had made her America’s sweetheart in her rom-com days didn’t do her any favors when she had her Serious Producer Lady hat on.
“Good morning, Ms. Kellermoon! I’m Lucia.”
“Hi, Lucia,” Blair said to the smiling woman on the screen. “It’s good to put a face to a name.” Even though she really did pine for the telephone of yore, when there were no faces involved whatsoever. “Call me Blair.”
“Ahh! I’m trying not to act all starstruck, but it’s wild to be on this call with you. I loved so many of your movies when I was growing up. And of course now that I work in publishing, I love your book club—even before you pickedIn Timefor it. You’ve done so much for books, and for readers.”
“I always thought maybe in another life I’d be an editor.”
“Really?” Lucia asked. “Not a novelist? That’s what most people say.”
“Novelists get all the glory, huh?”
“As they should.”
“Sure, but there wouldn’t be books without editors.”
“Just like there wouldn’t be movies without producers.”
“I like you, Lucia.” Blair winked. “We are going to get along great.”
Lucia’s cheeks looked like they had been doing a lot of smiling lately, too. Honestly, sometimes Blair felt like the literary version of Oprah in her “You get a car, and you get a car, and you get a car!” era.
“I can see that Tiffany has joined the call,” Lucia said. “I’ll go let her in.”
Blair made introductions. “Lucia, this is my producing partner and Moonpics’ chief operating officer, Tiffany Murphy. Tiffany, this is Jack Branksome’s editor, Lucia Britton.”
“I haven’t seen Blair this excited about a book for a long time,” Tiff said. “Though I have to say, it’s going to be tricky to adapt.So muchintrospection.”
“Maybe Jack will have some ideas,” Blair said. She couldn’t wait to hear them. Working with literary geniuses was the biggest perk of her job these days.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll have some ideas,” Lucia said in a tone Blair couldn’t parse.
“Speaking of, Jack’s due any minute,” Lucia said. “I asked you two to jump on the call a bit early because I wanted to warn you that Jack can be a bit… prickly. He’s probably not going to get visibly excited. But trust me, everyone here in the office has been gettingextremelyvisibly excited. I thought his publicist was going to have a stroke.”
“Don’t worry,” Blair said. “I know prickly writers.”
“OK, great. So I’ll introduce you, you drop the news, then we’ll crack out the champagne. I had a bottle sent to his house.”
“Aww, bless your heart!” Blair said.
“Should I not have done that?”
“No! I love that you did that!”
