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“I get it. I won’t hold anything against him.” Leaning across the counter, I lower my voice. “But if he ever harasses you or is rude or even looks at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll fire him in an instant.”
She grins. “That won’t be necessary, but I’m glad to hear it. You’re a good guy, Doc.”
“A good guy who won’t have any patients unless he figures out how to convince this town he’s sticking around.”
“I’m telling you, get married. It’s the only way.”
“What if I do more volunteer work? I could help out a couple more nights at the shelter or offer a free clinic day?”
She nods thoughtfully. “A free clinic day would give people the chance to get to know you better and there are a lot of folks in town who can’t afford health insurance.”
I smack the counter. “Perfect. I should make it a regular thing, offer it once or twice a month.”
“Sure. That’s a great idea.” She smiles sweetly. “But you’re still going to have to get married.”
Chapter Three
Daisy
The house is quiet when I finally tiptoe up to my room. Everyone has left for work and I’m all alone at last.
I fire up my laptop and stare at the email from Fernwood. Nothing has changed. He’s still asking me to poach a romance author who’s been publishing for forty years, had a large following before going viral, and has now risen up the charts meteorically.
This author, Cynthia Bennett, has to be in her sixties at least, and unlikely to want to change her publisher, as she’s been publishing with small presses and indies since the very beginning.
The only thing that gives me even a breath of hope is that she recently moved from a Charlottesville publisher to one located right here in Catalpa Creek. She hasn’t had time to develop loyalty to this new publisher, so maybe I can convince her to change again.
It’s a long shot. Especially since she writes romance, a genre I’ve never read and have never wanted to read. All my work at Tenth Avenue books has been strictly with literary works. I have no idea how to edit romance or what the romance division at Tenth Avenue has to offer her.
When I replied to Fernwood’s email to explain just that, he responded with,Buck up, Weston. We’ll give her whatever the hell she wants.
So helpful.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone and tap in the number for Cynthia’s agent.
It takes ten minutes for me to be connected directly.
“You’ve got three minutes.” The voice is sharp as a whip crack, but scratchy with age. Leanne Morris is a legend, well known for agenting solid mid-list authors who used to be the bread and butter of the publishing industry. Before the industry became obsessed with maximizing profits by bringing in viral sensations and guaranteed blockbusters.
Leanne handles genre fiction, not literary, so this is my first time talking to her.
“I’m Daisy Weston from Tenth Avenue Books, I—“
“I know who you are. What do you want?”
“Tenth Avenue Books wants to offer your client, Cynthia Bennett, the opportunity—“
“Nope. Have a good day.”
“Wait.” I grip the phone so tight my hand aches. “Tenth Avenue can offer her—“
“Cynthia Bennett has no interest in moving to Tenth Avenue Books. Don’t call me again.”
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it for several long moments. I’ve dealt with a lot of different personalities in the publishing world, but I’ve never had an agent refuse to even hear me out.
To be fair, I should have made an appointment with Leanne, but the fact she didn’t even give me a chance to schedule a better time to talk is beyond odd.
Maybe another of the big five publishers already nabbed Cynthia? Leanne’s got to be getting a lot of offers now that Cynthia’s star has risen so high.
