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She took a sip of wine. ‘Well, I have to tell you that we are all so excited about Portico,’ said Brooke, ‘Although we will have to turn it around very, very quickly. Still, we’re getting there. The manuscript should be going into proof next week.’
‘What’s a proof exactly?’
‘An uncorrected manuscript bound up like a book. It goes out to retailers who decide if they want to order it. Then it goes out to the press so they can decide if they want to review it.’
‘Gosh, that’s a lot of hoops,’ said Eileen, wide–eyed.
‘Don’t worry, the whole company is getting behind it,’ said Brooke.
Eileen nodded and looked down at her lap, fiddling with the cuff of her mother’s jacket.
Brooke’s mouth opened as she saw that Eileen’s eyes were filling with tears.
‘Hey, hey, what’s wrong?’ she asked.
Eileen shook her head, still staring down. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so grateful.’
Brooke felt her heart swell. She was so sweet. ‘You’re grateful?’ laughed Brooke. ‘Eileen, I’m the one who should be grateful. This is the book I’ve been waiting my whole career for.’
‘But for you, Brooke, publishing b
ooks is just a job, isn’t it?’ she replied not unkindly. Catching Brooke’s expression, she added: ‘I read US Weekly. You’re rich. You’re marrying into a family even richer.’
She blew her nose on the tissue Brooke offered her.
‘The difference is that you’ve changed my life,’ continued Eileen. ‘Six weeks ago I was working three jobs. That’s not easy when you have three kids as well.’
‘You have three kids?’ said Brooke, wondering if Eileen just looked very good for her age.
‘Oldest is eight. Youngest is three,’ she grinned. ‘And, before you ask, yes I am twenty–six.’
‘That’s incredible,’ said Brooke, taking a slow sip of water. ‘Not the fact you have three kids, of course, just that you manage to do everything. You must have a very supportive husband.’
Eileen looked down again. ‘He left me last year.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I have a habit of putting my foot in it.’
Eileen shook her head. ‘Don’t be. Danny – that’s my husband – he worked at the local garage. I went down there one night and found him in the office with the boss’s PA, pants round his ankles. My friends said “forgive him”, said “you need him” – and they were right, seeing as I’m only making twenty thousand bucks a year.’
‘But you kicked him out?’ said Brooke eagerly, wanting to hear more.
‘Sure I did! You don’t stay with a man who doesn’t respect you.’ She shrugged. ‘I thought it would be scary, being left with three kids, but I guess it’s best to be on your own than with someone who doesn’t really love you. Truth is, it was never right. I married Danny when I was eighteen because I got pregnant and I used to look at him and think, “Do I want to grow old with you?” “Do I want to share life’s adventure with you?” “Do you make me happy just by being there?” And the answer was no, so things happened for the best.’
‘It was still brave,’ said Brooke, marvelling at Eileen’s story.
‘Not really, but I guess it’s paid off now. See, the week after I threw his bags on the street, I started writing the book. I used to love writing stories at school, but when I left high school and got married I just didn’t have the time. But this time, I made time. Part of the reason was to keep me busy, to stop me thinking about how he … how he disappointed me. The other reason was to try and make some money. My friends were right about that much. Even three jobs doesn’t stretch very far when you’ve got three kids.’
Brooke felt a sudden stab of shame. Since she could remember she’d always had everything she wanted: a pony, a car, fabulous clothes. She’d even miraculously got into an Ivy League college, despite her standing in the family as the ‘pretty one’ to Liz’s ‘smart one’. Eileen was right, she enjoyed her job at Yellow Door, but it was still just a job, something she did because she wanted to, not because she had to. And she realized with a terrible jolt that her wedding dress alone was going to cost ten times more than Eileen made in a year. Looking across at Eileen, she felt a rush of resolve.
‘Eileen,’ she said, ‘I’m going to make you a star.’
‘You sound like Simon Cowell,’ said Eileen more cheerfully.
‘I mean it!’
‘Really? Well, thanks,’ blushed the author. ‘But why?’
Brooke smiled. She wasn’t exactly sure herself, but she just had an urge to do her very best for Eileen Dunne.
