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Playing With Fire

Page 9

by Brittany Holland

“Let me pull everything up.”

Click. Click. Click.

For approximately five seconds, everything is perfect.

Then her smile falters, only for a second. But I see it, and my stomach tightens.

“One moment.”

More clicking, and Angela glances at me. “Would you mind waiting here for just a minute?”

This can’t be good.

“Of course.”

“I’ll be right back.” She disappears around the corner.

A few minutes later, Angela reappears with a man who looks vaguely like Clark Kent, if he spent more time behind a desk and considerably less time lifting cars.

Brown hair. Dark-framed glasses. Button-down shirt tucked neatly into khakis.

He pushes his glasses higher on his nose as he approaches.

“Delaney? Steve Owens. Editorial Programs Coordinator.”

“Yes, nice to meet you.”

“I’m filling in for Sara while she’s out.”

Out?

Like out to lunch? On an errand? Doctor’s appointment?

“Oh, okay.” The knot forming in my stomach tightens. Sara has been my contact throughout the entire fellowship process.

“She’s our Director of Fellowship Programs, but I’m the Coordinator.” Steve glances toward Angela’s computer. “And there appears to have been a slight communication issue regarding your placement.”

Slight. There’s a word no one wants attached to the thing they packed their entire life into a tiny SUV for.

“What kind of communication issue?”

“I think Liz should probably explain.” He sighs.

Angela gives me another reassuring smile. “Liz is our Editorial Director. I let her know you’re here.”

As if summoned by her name, another woman appears through the doorway behind them.

She introduces herself as Liz, and there’s something immediately calming about her. Maybe it’s the warm smile. Maybe it’s the fact that she looks directly at me instead of at the computer screen currently holding whatever disaster is about to become of my life.

“Delaney, I’m so glad you made it in.”

“Me too.”

Her expression softens.

“Why don’t we step into my office?”

“Sure.”