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PROLOGUE
~ Amanda ~
I had passed this building a thousand times and always wondered what mysteries were held within. Now, for the first time in my twenty-seven years of life, I get to open the door and bask in its secrets. Pushing the doors open, I made my way into the building, my eyes wide open ready to capture everything inside. I am so prepared to behold this fantastic… uh, completely ordinary office.
Maybe I had let my imagination get the better of me.
It was nothing like I had anticipated. Everything was clean and refined, nothing like the hustle, bustle, and chaos that I expected to find in a magazine’s headquarters. I couldn’t quite tell if I was disappointed or bewildered. After years of building myself up from the bottom, pushing myself through education, and freelancing over the internet, I expected a little more than the dull office interior I was greeted with. Nevertheless, it was my first day, and I wanted to make a good impression.
I made my way to the front desk, where a rather snooty woman looked over her glasses at me. With a sweeping glance, she looked me up and down before clearly deciding I wasn’t worth her time, turning back to the screen in front of her before talking.
“Welcome to the Cherrywood Journal’s headquarters. How may I assist you today?”
I was both impressed and offended by the way her eyes never left the monitor. There was either something riveting on that screen, or I really wasn’t worth her time. I hoped it was the former.
“My name is Amanda Baird. I’m the journalist for the new Soulmate Section.”
This seemed to capture the receptionist’s attention as she now looked away from the screen and observed me closely. Her eyes narrowed as though she were trying to assess if I was telling the truth or not. I rummaged inside my laptop bag to retrieve the invitational letter from her company. When I went to hold it out to her, she snatched it away to inspect it closer. I knew there would be no point trying to win over the woman in front of me. She had clearly made up her mind.
After a quick scan of the contents of the letter, she thrust it back at me, “Straight down the hall, take the elevator to the top floor. The editor’s office will be right in front of you. You can’t miss it.”
Before I could respond, she had turned back to her computer and, therefore, completely shut me out of the rest of her day. I had no interest in speaking with the woman anyway. My nerves were frazzled by the time I had ridden the elevator to the top floor. When the doors pinged open, I could feel myself start to perspire, and I had to check myself in the reflection of a window before introducing myself to his secretary. The complete contrast to the miserable wretch downstairs, the woman beamed at me as I introduced myself.
“Phil has been expecting you, head right in. Do you want something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
I shook my head, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
She must have noticed how nervous I was because she gently laid a hand on my arm before I entered. Smiling, she gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry. He’s not as scary as you think. He’s a busy man, but he wanted to make sure he personally greeted you on your first day. Your writing must have made quite the impression! Not everyone gets a face-to-face with the big boss.”
Her words calmed my nerves a bit. I’m not sure what would have happened if she hadn't been there, but she was. It was as though fate had it all worked out for me as I knocked on the door before opening it and slipping into the office.
“Amanda Baird, I presume?”
The man standing up from behind the desk did indeed look rather frightening. I could tell instantly that he exuded power in every element of his life. I just hoped that I would be able to live up to his expectations.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
His laughter boomed around the office as he walked forward and firmly shook my hand, “The pleasure is all mine. I read some of your articles on your blog, and I knew we had to have you. We’ve always wanted a real-story romance column in the Journal, and you’re just the person to get it off the ground.”
“I’m honored to be of service. I aspire to make this column great once I’ve settled in.”
“Well, you had better settle in fast because your first submission is due next week. Don’t worry. We’ve already made an appeal for this month’s theme to our readers. Your desk is flooded with letters, so you should probably get going.”
“Theme?” I asked, “We’re running themes per month?”
“January is ‘Destiny.’ You’ll have to come up with the next month’s theme. Now, I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes, so, if you would excuse me. Jane will show you to your desk.”
Holding the door open for me, he showed me out of the office. His secretary, who I could only presume was Jane, was waiting for me outside. She led me down to the third floor, where she directed me to a cramped desk in the corner of an office. As described, it was covered with stacks of envelopes just waiting to be read.
“Good luck,” she whispered as she shut the door behind her.
This is it. I’m finally on my own and ready to make my mark in the journalism world.
Placing my laptop on the only clear area on my desk, I got to work. Every letter moved me in one way or another. It wasn’t until my third day in the office, scanning through yet another pile of letters, that I found the one that would be included in my article. As I read the words the writers had so elegantly placed on paper, I could feel my heart going on a journey with them.
Now, this was truly befitting of destiny…
