It's a Waverly Life (23 page)

The day finally came for my meeting at Smithers Publishing. I paired a dark green dress with my best silver link necklace and matching earrings, then pulled my hair back into a low, sleek ponytail and slipped on a pair of black boots. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom and smiled. I felt professional, confident, and excited. In a way I was looking not just at my reflection, but at my future.

I put on my coat, then bent down to pick up the cardboard box that, thank God, had arrived in time.

An hour before the meeting, I stopped by the
Sun
. Eloise Zimmerman’s secretary had left me a voicemail asking me to drop by her office at some point during the week. She hadn’t specified a day or a time, so I figured I might as well go then. That way I would only have to get dressed up once.

I stopped first on the eighth floor to see if Nick was around. I found him working intently at his desk.

“Hey, stranger, how are you?” I said.

He turned around and smiled, then put a finger to his lips. You’d think I’d learn to stop interrupting him. I put the box down and turned on my heel toward the kitchen. On the way there I passed by Larry Berman’s office, still quiet, dark, and empty. The entire floor was subdued, with nearly as many vacant cubes as occupied ones. It all felt so stiff, so stale.
Are they ever going to refill those positions?
I was glad to have Eloise in my corner.

A few minutes later, I returned to Nick’s cube holding a cup of coffee for each of us. This time he turned around and stood up.

“Bryson, how are you? It’s been ages.” He held his arms open to reveal a green T-shirt that said “Witty Saying” in white.

I laughed and placed both cups on his desk, then straightened up to give him a hug. “I brought you some caffeine. And I love the shirt.”

“Of course you love it. It’s amazing. Why are you so dressed up? You look hot.”

I curtsied. “Why thank you. I’ve got a meeting with Eloise Zimmerman.”

“You two still buddy-buddy?”

I smiled. “Actually, the column is going really well. The e-mails I’ve been getting from readers are mostly positive. Eloise said advertisers like my demographic.”

“Sounds like you’re cruising along splendidly.”

The second I heard the word
cruising
, I yelled, “Oh my God!” then immediately covered my mouth with my hands. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “I totally forgot to tell you. I figured out the deal with Ivy’s boyfriend.”

He raised his eyebrows, and I could see the hope in his eyes. “And?”

I shook my head. “Different guy.”

His shoulders dropped a bit.

“And get this. It turns out that my friend Andie’s guy
was
cheating on her, just not with another woman.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes, I mean.”

“For real? With a dude?”

“For real. With a dude.”

He sat down in his chair. “Ouch.”

“Tell Andie about it. She’s pretty down. And she’s never down about
anything
.”

He stroked his chin. “Hmm. Now
that
would make a sweet T-shirt.”

“What would? You mean what happened to Andie?”

“Think about it. How amazing would it be to see me in a shirt that says, ‘Don’t You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me?’”

I kicked him in the shin. “Hey now, Andie
is
hot. Any guy would be lucky to have her. Any straight guy, that is.”

“Ouch.” He leaned down to rub his leg. “That hurt.”

I picked up the box. “The truth hurts, my dear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting.”

“Eloise?” I leaned my head into her office. She was sitting at her desk in front of her computer. “Is now a good time?” I smiled at her.

She turned her severe profile toward me. “I prefer Mrs. Zimmerman.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I could feel my cheeks turn red.

“Please, have a seat.” She slowly swiveled her chair to face me, and I sat down across from her and set the cardboard box on the floor. She was wearing an expensive beige pantsuit and pearls, her hair in her usual stiff beehive.

“I got a message that you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Thank you for stopping by.”

I shifted in my seat and smiled again. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve been having a lot of fun with the column, and the e-mails I’ve been getting from readers lately have been extremely positive—well mostly positive. In fact, just the other day I ran into—”

She held up her hand. “The reason I asked you to stop by is to inform you that we’ve decided to make some more editorial changes, one of which regards Honey on Your Mind.”

I swallowed.

“We’ve decided go with Love, Wendy.”

What?

“Love, Wendy? You mean Wendy Davenport’s column?”

She rolled her pearls between her fingers. “Her popularity is growing quite rapidly, especially now that she has her own TV show.”

“Oh.”

What does that mean for me?

I bit my lip “So what does that mean for—”

She interrupted me again. “It’s more economical for us to subscribe to a syndicated column than to pay for original content. Unfortunately, that means we no longer need your services, effective immediately.”

My jaw dropped. Wendy Davenport, aka resident bottle blonde nightmare, had just taken
my
job? Effective immediately?

“Of course you can finish whatever you’re currently working on, but that will be all.” She swiveled her chair toward her computer, signaling that the meeting was over.

I sat there for a moment, not sure what to do.

“Did you need something else?” she said with her back to me.

I stood up slowly.

That’s it? No parting words? No thanks for a job well done?

“Um, no, Mrs. Zimmerman.”

I picked up the box and quietly left her office.

“Waverly, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“You too, Wyatt. Thanks for having me.” We were in the Smithers conference room. I was still rattled from my meeting with Eloise, but I forced a smile as I stood up to shake his hand. Wyatt Clyndelle, for better or for worse, looked exactly like Clay Aiken. I really liked him.

“Can I get you a drink? Dean is on his way.”

“Anything with caffeine and sugar would be great.”

“I think I can manage that.”

He left the room, and I sat back down and pulled a manila folder out of my bag. I glanced at the floor next to me, where I’d placed the cardboard box. I set the folder on the table.

You can do this. Forget about the
Sun.

Wyatt and Dean Paxton entered a few minutes later with a tray of cappuccinos. I stood up again to greet Dean, whom I hadn’t seen since the launch of my Honey Notes nearly a year before.

“Dean, hi, it’s nice to see you.” I extended my hand.

“Likewise.” He took my hand and shook it. “Welcome back.”

We settled into our seats and made light chitchat. After a few minutes Wyatt cleared his throat just slightly, enough to signal the start of the meeting.

“Waverly, to begin I must admit that we were both happy and a bit surprised to hear that you wanted to meet with us. We’d nearly given up on you.”

“I’m glad to be here, and thanks for
not
giving up on me.”

They both smiled politely.

I swallowed. “Well, like you just said, I know you’ve been waiting for me to come up with some more ideas for Honey Notes, which I’ve finally done. I’m sorry about the delay. I guess you could attribute it to a form of writer’s block. Life-induced writer’s block.”

They laughed, and I opened the manila folder on the table and pulled out several sheets of new ideas for Honey Notes, then slid them across the table. “You’ll see that this time I’ve gone with occasions:
birthday
,
Christmas
,
Hanukkah
,
Valentine’s Day
, and
thank you
.”

They each took a page. Wyatt began to nod his head as he read. So did Dean.

“These are great, Waverly,” Wyatt said. “Occasion-focused cards are exactly what we wanted.” He handed his page, the one with birthday Honey Notes, to Dean. I’d put my two favorites at the top:

Front:
Sick of seeing other women in your office get flowers on their birthday?

Inside:
Honey, they probably sent them to themselves. And if
they
didn’t send them, whoever did is probably ugly anyway. Happy birthday!

Front:
Can’t take another birthday without a boyfriend?

Inside:
Honey, that’s okay. Your girlfriends are here for you! And you know you hate wearing lace underwear anyway.

Dean laughed. “Not bad, Waverly.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“We’ll definitely run these by the team,” Wyatt said. “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

“I appreciate that. But that’s not the only reason I wanted to meet with you today.”

“It’s not?” Wyatt said.

I shook my head. “I’ve come up with something else I’d like to share with you. That’s another reason it’s taken me so long to get in touch. I wanted to do something…more.”

“More than the Honey Notes?” Dean said.

“Much more.”

“Let’s hear it,” Wyatt said.

Then I told them my idea.

Fifteen minutes later, I sat with my hands interlaced on the table in front of me, waiting for one of them to say something. Wyatt was still reading the new papers I’d pulled from my manila folder.

Finally, Dean spoke. “I’m impressed, Waverly. That’s definitely more than Honey Notes, and extremely creative as well.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“I agree,” Wyatt said. “Well done, Waverly. We’ll run this by the powers that be and see what they say. Give us a week or two to get back to you, okay?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Thanks so much for coming in. I appreciate all the thought you put into this. So we’ll be in touch?”

I nodded. “I look forward to it.”

The three of us exited the conference room together. I thought it had gone well, but I wasn’t sure what would happen next. After what had just happened to me at the
Sun
, I wasn’t sure about anything.

Actually, that’s not true.

I was one hundred percent sure that my dress had nothing sticking to it.