Fall For Me Again Page 16

“And she convinced you to change your mind about something?” If that was the case, I could learn a thing or two from her.

  I could visualize my father shrugging. “She made a good point. Roy would be expecting turkey. And roast beef is a letdown in comparison to turkey, especially on a holiday. So, she is cooking that for us. She also said she has some family recipes she’d like to use. Apparently, my recommendation of peas, potatoes, and Brussel sprouts as our only sides was not satisfying to her.”

  I couldn’t control the way my eyebrows were lifting toward my hairline. “Damn, Dad. Sounds like she’s taking over the place.”

  “No,” he said flatly.

  I chuckled. “All right.”

  “Call the writer. If she’s not prepared to take a call two minutes early, she’s not prepared to work for Treo.”

  “As you wish, Dad,” I said, and then I dialed Elise in.

  She answered right away. Her voice was cheerful but not overly so, and her tone suggested she was a woman who was in control and confident. Which she was. Elise just didn’t know that about herself. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” I said. I was about to ask her how she was, but my father interjected.

  “Hello, I’m Mark Jansen. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. I’d like to get right into it. I have a busy day ahead of me, and I assume you do as well.”

  “I appreciate that,” Elise said.

  Good answer.

  My father launched into his first question. “Have you worked directly or indirectly with any other publishing agencies of any kind?”

  “I did a long time ago, but with old pieces of work. The project I’m working on now that Winzly wants me to publish as your partner has never been seen by another pair of eyes, besides my own and Winzly’s.” Elise was clever. She was cutting right to the chase and answering the real question he’d posed, not the blanketed vague one it sounded like. I leaned back in my chair and smiled.

  “Very good,” my father said. “And what sort of things would you like to maintain control of? How comfortable are you with the idea of there being changes you need to make to the manuscript? Or to your approach with the public and marketing? Are you open to a book tour?”

  “I’m open to whatever will help me sell more copies,” she said.

  “Even if you believe it compromises the story you are trying to tell?” my father asked. His time in this business had given him insight into the writer psyche. It was hard for a writer to change a lot within their manuscript. Suddenly, this labor of love they’d been slaving over was no longer the same book they were trying to write in the first place. This was a very important question in the interview process, and it almost always was the make it or break it answer.

  Elise cleared her throat. “I realize this might sound a bit cocky, but I’m not concerned about having to change much about my manuscript. I’m confident in my ability and the story I’m telling. Major changes won’t be requested, Mr. Jansen. I’m sure of it. You will want to sell this book as it is.”

  Damn. If she had been sitting in the room with me, I would have leapt over the desk and kissed her like we might never see each other again. That answer was fierce as hell.

  My father chuckled. “I like cocky. So long as you deliver what you are promising.”

  “I will.”

  The interview went along for another twenty minutes. My father drilled her with all the hard-hitting questions, and Elise answered them all with ease. She kept her answers concise but thoughtful. She hit the nail on the head every time, and I knew before my father acknowledged it that he wanted her to sign with us.

  “Well,” my father said at the end of the call, “my son told me I wouldn’t regret this. And he was right. I’d like to make you an offer. Do you have a figure in mind of what you would accept?”

  There was a brief pause on the line. This would be the hard part for her. I hoped she asked for enough and remembered what I had told her about not accepting anything less than eighty thousand.

  Elise took a steady breath that revealed some of her nerves. I probably only caught on because I knew her. Hopefully, it went over my father’s head because her delivery was in line with the confidence she maintained throughout the call. “Yes, I won’t do the work for anything less than ninety thousand dollars. I know I’m worth every cent.”

  Again, I wanted to kiss her. And then do other things to her.

  My father hesitated, but then, after only a couple of seconds, he said, “That is reasonable. Dallas will handle things from here. I trust you are in good hands with him. It was nice speaking with you. I look forward to seeing how true to your word you really are.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Mr. Jansen,” Elise said. “Have a good rest of your day.”

  “I’ll send over your hiring package later this afternoon,” I said before she got off the phone. “If you have any questions, send me an email, and I’ll address them right away. Welcome to Treo.”

  I could hear Elise’s smile in her voice. “Thank you, Dallas. We will speak soon.”

  She hung up the phone. My father and I both stayed on the line, and he was the first to speak. “She better be worth it, Dallas. This is on you.”

  “Don’t worry about her. She won’t disappoint.”

  Chapter 26

  Elise

  Ninety thousand dollars.

  Just like that.

  My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest the same way it used to on public speaking days in high school. That overwhelming sense of panic, fear, and excitement rippled through me, making my palms sweaty and my lips tingle.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  I sat in my own disbelief for a few minutes. My mind was reeling. How I had managed to pull it off and win the favor of Dallas’s not-so-friendly father, I had no idea. But there I was, post-conference call with an offer. An accepted offer.

  Licking my lips, I looked around my tiny studio apartment, at my unmade bed and half-burned away candles. This had been my life for a long time, and for the first time ever, I was realizing it might not be my permanent situation. There might be more than this.

  And there might be a hell of a lot more for my mom and dad.

  I hadn’t truly let my optimism about this job or about coming into money permeate me all the way through. I had wanted to hold off and wait until it was real. Until this call was done. And now that it was and everything was falling into place, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

  So, I called my sister.

  “Hey,” Kate answered on the fourth ring. She sounded a bit distracted. Knowing her, she was probably cooking. “What’s up?”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m trying a new recipe for a dessert to bring to Mom and Dad’s for Thanksgiving. What are you doing right now?”

  “I was going to see if I could pop by,” I said.

  “Yeah. Come on over. Do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” I said as I went to grab my jacket from the hook behind my door.

  “Could you stop and pick up some vanilla extract? You know the place I go to? And the bottle with the little plaid white and red cap?”

  “Yep, I remember. I’ll grab it. See you in half an hour.”

  “Okay, thank you!”

  I hung up the phone, donned my jacket, and stepped into my combat boots, which I left loosely laced and never bothered to tighten after sliding them on.

  I got to Kate’s townhouse just before eleven o’clock and was happy to get indoors where it was warm. I locked the front door and made my way into the kitchen, where I could hear Kate banging on pots and pans as she no doubt went about cooking up a storm.

  One of her cats shot by me in the hallway. The second was quick to follow.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I said as they scurried around the corner and hightailed it upstairs. There was a good chance they would hide under Kate’s bed for twenty or thirty minutes before they worked up the nerve to come down and
check me out.

  I knocked on the doorframe outside the kitchen to get my sister’s attention.

  Kate was bent over the oven, sliding in a dark-coated pan. There were scones on top of wax paper that disappeared from view when she closed the oven door and straightened up, tucking her hair behind her ears as she gave me a smile. “Morning. You got the vanilla?”

  “Of course I did,” I said, pulling the tiny bottle out of my pocket. “What do you need it for?”

  “I’m making a yam soufflé for dinner on Thursday. Do you remember the one Mom used to make? You know, before we couldn’t afford to do turkey dinner?”

  “Uh, vaguely. What’s in it?”

  Kate took her polka-dot oven mitts off and dropped them on the counter. “It’s mashed-up yams, and then you bake it in a pan with crumbled pecans and brown sugar on top. It’s really good. And we haven’t had it in, I don’t know, more than a decade. It’s time to try to start bringing in some old traditions where we can. Don’t you think?”

  I nodded eagerly. Kate must have sensed my excited disposition because she arched an eyebrow as she leaned one hip on the counter.

  “What’s going on?” she asked curiously.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Something’s up with you. You’re different.”

  “Maybe,” I said slyly, making her work for it.

  Her eyes widened. “Hold up. You had that phone interview with Treo this morning, didn’t you?”

  I grinned, showing her all my teeth. “You bet your ass I did.”

  Kate hurried over to me as I slid onto one of the stools at her kitchen island. She stood across from me and leaned over, putting her weight on her forearms atop the counter. “And? How did it go? Did you accept an offer?”

  Everything suddenly felt very real now that I was sharing the news with someone else. A lump formed in my throat, and I held on to it. This was nothing to cry about. “I did. It’s a lot of money, Kate. We’re all going to be all right. I think… I think we might finally be in the clear.”

  Kate shook her head once and then hurried around the counter to give me a hug. “Oh, Elise. I’m so proud of you. This is amazing!” She pulled away and held me at arm’s length by my shoulders. “Are you happy?”

  I nodded. “Really happy.”

  She hugged me again. Her hair smelled like coconut and oranges, like it always did. “Have you told Mom and Dad?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not yet. I want to make sure nothing gets in the way before I tell them. Not that I think anything will. But just in case.” Getting their hopes up could be dangerous with my dad’s current state of health. If the rug was pulled from under me and things didn’t work out with Treo for some reason, I didn’t want to have to tell my parents that, unfortunately, we couldn’t actually afford my dad’s medication anymore. It was smarter to play it safe for now.

  “That’s probably for the best. But they’ll be so proud of you, Elise. You did this. Just you. Nobody else. And on your writing and talent no less. This is what you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid. And here it is. It’s real. It’s happening.”

  The emotion I’d been trying to hold at bay suddenly climbed up my throat and escaped in the form of a sob that was also a laugh.

  Kate blinked. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and wiped at the corners of my eyes as tears started to leak down my cheeks. “I am. I promise. I just… I didn’t think this was possible. You know?”

  Kate put her hand over mine and smiled at me. “I know. But I knew it was possible. There was no doubt in my mind that this would happen for you one day. And I’m so happy it was today. You deserve this, little sister.”

  “We all do. It’s our big break.”

  Her smile saddened a little bit.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  She shook her head and sighed. “I just wish you didn’t have to give so much of it away. I wish this could be yours. Just yours. As it should be.”

  “Don’t worry, Kate. This is more than fine. I want to share. I want to help Mom and Dad. I want to help you, too.”

  “I don’t need money.”

  I shrugged. “I know.”

  Kate smiled again. “I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

  “Neither could I.”

  The timer she had set on her phone beeped. Kate let out a startled yelp and hurried across her kitchen to put her oven mitts back on. She opened the oven again, and I noticed there was more in there than just the scones she’d put in. She pulled out the top tray which was, to my sheer delight, muffins.

  “Those look good,” I said, peering over her shoulder as she put the muffin trays down.

  “Apple cinnamon with a bit of chai and nutmeg.”

  “Very fall appropriate,” I said, inhaling a deep breath of the rich and decadent scent of muffins. The tops of them were dark brown and crumbly looking. I suspected that was brown sugar and cinnamon. “Are they for Thursday?”

  Kate shook her head. “No. They were just for fun. Once they cool, you can have as many as you like. Consider them celebratory muffins.”

  I giggled. “Excellent.”

  “Want a drink?”

  “Sure. Tea?”

  Kate went about boiling the water for tea. When the kettle started to whistle, she poured the water into her polka-dot teapot that matched her oven mitts. “So. How was Dallas on the call? I was curious to hear how it would go with you on one end and his father on the other.”

  When I’d told Kate that Mark was still running Treo, she’d been concerned. But I assured her Dallas had my back. And he proved today that he was telling the truth.

  “Dallas was fine. He didn’t talk much. His dad led the interview.”

  “And how was he?”

  I shrugged. “Good, I guess. I don’t think he knows it was me that he just offered a shit-ton of money to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t think Dallas told him. He never called me by name. And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have even entertained a phone call with me if he knew who I was. He hates my guts. Always has.”

  “Yeah, for no fucking reason.”

  “Well, I can’t control that. And I don’t really care anymore. When I was a teenager, it bothered me because I couldn’t understand it. But now? Fuck him. He’s just a grumpy old man.”

  “He’s Dallas’s father.”

  “So?”

  Kate pursed her lips and put her back to me as she poured us each a cup of green tea. “Nothing.”

  “Kate?”

  She shook her head as she brought my cup of tea over. “Seriously. It’s nothing. But I have been doing some thinking.”

  “About what?” I asked skeptically.

  “About Dallas and his son. And about what he’s done for you. Maybe it would be nice to invite them to our Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday? Dallas got along great with Mom and Dad. And they liked him, too. It might be nice to have everyone together again.”

  I wrapped my hands around the tea mug she’d put in front of me. It was pastel yellow with a chip at the bottom of the handle. It had been there for as long as I could remember. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll ask him.”

  Kate blew on her tea to cool it down. “Sounds good.”

  Chapter 27

  Dallas

  My father knocked on my front door and let himself in at six in. Roy and I were sitting on the floor in the living room, playing a board game when he came in and sat on the edge of the sofa.

  “Hi, Papa,” Roy said, getting to his feet and giving my father a hug.

  My father hugged him back and then nodded at the game. “What are you two playing?”

  “Mousetrap,” Roy said, sitting back down and crossing his legs under himself. “Dad says this used to be his game. That’s why it’s so old.”

  “Watch it when you say ‘so old’, kid,” I said, chuckling as I leaned back and straightened my legs out in front of me. Maybe “so
old” was accurate. I could barely sit on the floor for more than twenty minutes these days without getting cramps or numb limbs.

  My father watched Roy and I finish up the game. It was a close call, but I won, and I was glad for it because I was able to stick it to Roy and tell him it was because he called me old. Roy shook his head and told me I was silly as he stood up and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

  “Thanks for coming, Dad. I won’t be too long. I just have to drop off the paperwork for the writer. An hour tops.”

  My father nodded. “No problem. An evening with my grandson is an evening well spent. Have you spoken to her since the call yesterday?”

  “Not really. A couple messages here and there to arrange for me to go over with the paperwork.”

  “Very well. You told her you’d meet her at six thirty?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you’d best leave now. Being late makes a bad impression.”

  I sighed as I got to my feet. “Yes. Of course.”

  Roy came back into the living room as I was leaving. He wrapped his arms around my legs in a tight hug and said goodbye. Then he craned his head up and smiled. “Tell her I say hello.”

  “Will do, kiddo,” I said, ruffling his hair and thanking my lucky stars that Roy hadn’t said Elise’s name in front of my father. He could after I left. Hell, I’d prefer it. Then I wouldn’t have to have the conversation, and the papers would already be signed. It would be too late for my old man to pull the contract from Elise.

  I went to the front door and left after calling one last goodbye down the hall. Both my father and Roy said goodbye, and I left, locking up behind me before going to my car.

  I parked at the curb outside Elise’s apartment building fifteen minutes later. She buzzed me up when I called up to her apartment, and I knocked on the door.

  She opened it up, and the little breeze caused by the door being pulled inward blew strands of hair off her face. “Hi,” she said. Her voice was chipper, her eyes bright, and her smile sweeter than honey.