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Kressler buttoned his jacket and nodded to the waitress. ‘I’ll let you pick up the cheque. And I expect an answer by Friday.’
CHAPTER FORTY–NINE
Nine o’clock at night and Brooke was still in the office. Over the past few weeks, this had become a routine, especially since the office had been closed for Thanksgiving. With the wedding practically on top of her and most of January blocked off for the honeymoon – a fifteen–day tour of Australia with a week at the Wakaya Club, the super–exclusive private resort in Fiji – she was desperate to get ahead of herself with work. Besides which, she liked to edit at night when it was completely quiet, with just the desk lamp and soft blue glow from the computer illuminating the pages of the manuscript. The dark seemed to insulate her from everything: the stress and expectation of the wedding and the vague, unsettled feeling that had been nagging at her since David’s new job offer.
At least this was one less worry, thought Brooke, turning another page. It had only taken a week to edit Eileen Dunne’s second novel; it was incredible how little work it needed doing to it and in many ways it was even more accomplished than Portico. Brooke had loved the way the story had grabbed her and transported her to another land, another world. It would be another runaway best–seller, she felt sure of it, and if it sold like Portico, it would make the ‘outrageous’ advance of three hundred thousand dollars look like a bargain. She looked up from the page as her mobile phone vibrated. Reluctantly, Brooke flipped it open.
Rocking Portico window display in Barnes and Noble. Matt
She put it down, smiling, wishing that David was not so busy and important that he couldn’t send her more impromptu, random texts. Suddenly she looked up again as she heard a chuckle. Mimi Hall was standing in the open doorway, sipping a cup of coffee.
‘Mimi!’ said Brooke, clasping her hand to her chest. ‘You scared the life out of me.’
‘Who was that? Matthew?’ asked Mimi, smiling in the dark.
‘Matthew?’ repeated Brooke dumbly.
‘Palmer,’ said Mimi, stepping forward. ‘Matthew Palmer, your friend from Eileen’s launch party.’
Brooke examined Mimi’s knowing expression. She was not going to lie to her, although she had no right whatsoever asking about her personal phone calls made out of work hours.
‘Yes. Why do you ask?’
‘You speak to him a lot, don’t you? He must be a very good friend.’
‘He’s an old friend, yes,’ said Brooke, struggling to keep her voice calm. ‘But no, we don’t speak that often actually. He’s a ER doctor, they tend to be busy people.’
‘Funny you’re so close after that Jeff Daniels story earlier this year,’ said Mimi with deliberate vagueness.
‘Is there a problem here, Mimi?’
The older woman shrugged and took another sip of her drink. There was a long pause.
‘You owe me, you know that.’ There was levity in her voice but her eyes were still jealous and nasty.
‘And what exactly do I owe you for?’ replied Brooke, sounding defiant but feeling a sense of dread. Mimi had always had the ability to frighten her.
Mimi took a step nearer Brooke’s desk. She seemed to tower over Brooke, who found herself sitting up straighter in her chair.
‘Do you know how many reporters I’ve had calling me up, emailing me, even following me? All of them want to know information about you. Dirt.’
‘I hope you told them there’s nothing to tell. I think I’m what the tabloids call boring.’
‘I wouldn’t call you boring,’ said Mimi with a hard little laugh. ‘The papers would have a field day with this Matthew Palmer business. I think it’s what the tabloids call “dynamite”.’
‘Mimi, Matthew is a friend. David knows him too.’
‘Funny,’ said Mimi sarcastically. ‘I thought Eileen’s launch party was the first time they met.’
Brooke knew why Mimi was confronting her. Not because Brooke was suddenly a threat to Mimi’s position – it would take more than one success to be promoted even one rung up the ladder – no, Mimi was coming after Brooke simply because she was being talked about. For the past few months Brooke had been the star of Yellow Door. The only person worth talking about at the tables at Michael’s, or the various book industry awards that littered the year. Mimi might have an editor–of–the–year trophy and a fearsome reputation in the industry but, since Brooke’s engagement to David Billington and the ‘new Jackie O’ headlines, Mimi had retreated into the shadows. Brooke had always sensed that Mimi disliked her, but it was only now that she appreciated exactly how much.
Mimi placed her cup on a shelf and picked up a little snow globe that Brooke had bought in Paris on the trip when David had proposed.
‘You must know the emails are monitored at Yellow Door,’ said Mimi casually. ‘Someone told me there have been almost one hundred emails in the last three months between you and Matthew Palmer. One hundred. That’s quite a lot, especially for someone who apparently works as hard as you do. I guess if they checked out the phone records, you’ve been calling him a lot too.’
How dare she! Someone told me there have been almost one hundred emails. More like Mimi had been rooting around her office, checking her computer.
‘I am not having an affair with Matthew Palmer, if that’s what you’re implying, Mimi. If it’s any business of yours – which it most certainly is not – he is a friend. If you hadn’t heard, I am getting married to David, and I am in love with my fiancé.’ She stopped, aware that her voice was becoming louder as she spoke.
