Page 31 of Between the Lines

Blaise stood in the kitchen, coffee percolating away, Beau sitting patiently at her feet, his leash now in his mouth, as if he might take matters into his own paws if she stalled much longer.

“Give me a second,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure if she was talking to the dog or herself. She opened the email and read.

They thanked her for the submission. Said they’d read the proposal with interest. Said they weren’t ready to move forward with an offer at this time.

Her heart sank, just a little, but she’d known there would be rejections. But was that what this was? She kept reading.

They were intrigued by her voice and the story she had to tell. They had questions about structure and scope. They wondered whether she’d be open to working with a ghostwriter. And would she be available to talk?

Blaise lowered herself onto the edge of the chair by the counter. This was just like the first one. Not a yes, but not a no.

Was she open to working with a ghostwriter? She didn’t love that idea. It felt like letting someone else tell her story.

She read the email again, slower this time, letting herself actually absorb the words instead of racing through them to see what they were really saying. It was pretty cut and dried. They were interested, but again, they wanted to talk.

Beau woofed softly and dropped the leash at her feet.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I thought we’d be out the door by now, too.”

Her phone chimed again. This time it really was a text from Brick. Just saw this. Give me five and I’ll meet you at the gate.

Blaise stared at the screen for a moment, then let out a breath that turned into something close to a laugh. It was slightly giddy, but she couldn’t help herself. She was standing at the edge of something that might actually happen. Her book could be a reality.

Granted, she had no idea what kind of money it would mean, but it had to mean some. They weren’t going to expect her to do this for free. Cece would know more. Blaise would call her as soon as she got back from walking, which spurred her to answer Brick.

Perfect. See you soon.

Then she looked at the email again. Two publishers. Two maybes. Two people who’d read her words and were interested in at least talking.

This wasn’t a reason for celebrating. Not yet. This wasn’t that kind of moment. But she did feel buoyed by the possibilities. She’d answer this new publisher when she got back from walking, too. That way she’d be a little more levelheaded.

Blaise stood, tucked her phone away, and clipped Beau’s leash on. As she stepped outside, the morning air carried the sweet scent of plumeria from her neighbor’s yard, and the sky was pale blue and wide open. Her future felt the same way. Like she was on the verge of something life-changing.

Brick was leaving his back porch as she walked through the gate between their yards. Beau raced ahead to greet him, and he bent to give the little dog a scratch.

He nodded at Blaise. “Morning. Thanks for the invite.”

She smiled. “It was Beau’s idea.”

He grinned. “I see.”

The neighborhood was just starting to wake up as they walked, the lawns damp with dew. Someone down the street had a radio on low, oldies drifting through an open garage door. Beau trotted ahead of them, leash loose, clearly pleased that he had not one but two people in tow.

Brick matched Blaise’s pace without effort. He wore a faded T-shirt, cargo shorts, and running shoes, his posture easy but alert, like he’d been awake for a while. Which, knowing him, he had.

They waved at a couple walking in the opposite direction and exchanged a brief hello with a woman watering her plants. Blaise liked these small acknowledgments. She loved the sense of belonging to a place.

“How’s Holland?” she asked as Beau stopped to investigate a palm frond that had fallen onto the sidewalk.

Brick glanced down at the dog, then back at Blaise. “Better. Getting stronger. They’re talking about sending him home tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” she said. “Really good.”

“It is,” he agreed. “He’s ready. Restless and tired of hospital food.”

“I can imagine.”

They walked on, the houses giving way to a stretch of main road lined with live oaks. Beau surged forward toward a dragonfly, tail wagging, then settled again as the insect flew out of reach.