Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel

by Melissa Brown

  “Sorry.”

  “Novak’s a killer, but I know she’ll love you, Peter. How long is the contract?”

  “Not sure, but from the position listing, I’m guessing four or five months.”

  “Not too bad. And, of course, it can lead to other contracts.”

  “That’s my hope. But we’ll just have to see.”

  “Well, now you have a few extra hours to practice your pitch.”

  “I don’t really have a pitch. Just going to show her my portfolio and ideas for the game. I really need to know more about the project before I can sell my take on it.”

  “Indeed. Want me in the meeting?”

  “No, I think I’ll be good. Just don’t make yourself scarce in case I need someone to sing my praises.”

  “You bet.”

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked Rachel, who wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  “Nothing. Should I call Ms. Novak’s assistant?”

  “No, I don’t want to be a pest. This just seems…”

  “Very unprofessional, I agree.”

  It was five o’clock and Ms. Novak was officially an hour late for our already postponed meeting. After several cups of coffee, I was stewing as I paced the reception area.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” a thin woman in her fifties said as she exited the elevator. A young guy walked two steps behind her, holding an umbrella. He was soaked from the rain, but she didn’t have a drop on her. Poor guy.

  “So sorry to be so late. Got held up again. Poor bastard couldn’t take a hint,” she cackled, extending a hand to me. “Shannon Novak. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peter.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, shocked that she knew me without introduction.

  “Oh honey, I looked you up online several times before reaching out. I could pick you out of a lineup.”

  “Excellent,” I said with an awkward smile, shaking her hand. “It’s truly an honor to meet with you, Ms. Novak. If you’ll just follow me, we can get started.”

  After we’d gotten situated in my office, I patted the top of my laptop. “I’d love to start by showing you my portfolio.”

  “No need. You’re already hired.”

  “I…I am?”

  “Like I said before, I’ve done my homework on you, Mr. McTavish. I just had to see you with my own eyes before offering you a contract. Frankly, I can’t believe you haven’t been snatched up already.”

  “Well, I’ve been with Carlson Animation since I graduated college.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her expression was shrouded in disapproval. “And that’s what confuses me.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Look, this seems like a nice little firm. I’m sure you all do about two or three million in contracts each year. Give or take.”

  I nodded while clearing my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

  “I can’t stand when talent is wasted, Peter. It’s my biggest pet peeve. Is this place challenging you? Do you come to work excited every day?”

  I paused, not sure how to answer that question. I didn’t want to speak ill of my boss or the company that had been good to me for eight years. The company that gave me a shot. But I knew what she was getting at. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been in a bit of a rut. Which was why a call from someone at Ekisaito meant so much.

  I applied for full-time positions at Ekisaito Games three times during my first year of employment at Carlson Animation. Never a response, a call or email in return. After my third attempt, my workload at Carlson had gotten to such a rate that I no longer had time to even entertain applying elsewhere. I was making good money and had a boss who appreciated me. He even supported my desire to take on contract positions while balancing my already heavy workload. Schaefer believed in striking while the iron was hot, and several of those contracted positions had led to permanent projects for the firm. In his eyes, it was a win-win.

  But somehow this meeting didn’t feel like it would be a win-win for Schaefer.

  “I have a solid list of exciting projects on my docket and—”

  “Don’t avoid the question. I appreciate directness.”

  “Listen, Ms. Novak. I grew up playing your company’s products. I had the original Ekisaito Game System. I still have it, actually, couldn’t bear to part with it. And I’ve bought every system ever released since then. I became an animator and game designer because of your company. You’ll never find a bigger fan than me.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Now answer the question.”

  I swallowed hard. “Schaefer Carlson is an exceptional boss who has given me many opportunities in this business. I’ve been with him for eight years and have honed my craft well. I’m proud to work for him.”

  She lifted her chin and studied me with narrowed eyes. “Interesting.”

  A silence captured the room as she stood. And my heart sank. I’d stood by my boss and, of course, that was the right thing to do. But if I screwed up my chances with the only company I’ve ever dreamed of working for, I’d probably live to regret it.

  She placed her hands behind her back, linking them as she studied the certificates and degrees on my wall. I watched her with bated breath.

  “So you’re a hard worker, and now I know you’re loyal. I’m impressed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I assume you know what our company name means, yes?”

  “Absolutely. It’s ‘excite’ in Japanese.”

  “Exactly. I don’t hire someone unless they embody that quality—unless I feel excited to bring them aboard.” She turned to face me, a sly smile on her face. “And right now I’m very excited, Mr. McTavish. Very excited indeed.”

  “I am too. Just you being here is an honor, honestly.”

  “There’s so much to discuss, and I’m parched. Let’s get a drink.”

  I glanced down at my watch. 5:45.

  Still plenty of time to meet Maren at 7:00.

  I gave a reluctant nod and grabbed my coat, gesturing to the door. “After you.”

  -

  Chapter 7

  MAREN

  Valerie McTavish was exactly how I’d pictured her in my mind. Petite, elegant, and lovely. Short blond hair cut into an angled bob, tortoiseshell glasses on the bridge of her perfectly shaped nose and warm, rosy cheeks on her fair skin. She and Burton were seated in the waiting area of the restaurant when I walked through the door. Her hand was planted on Burton’s leg, and her fingers rubbed gentle circles on his knee as he spoke. They were clearly an affectionate couple, and that made me smile as I took in the sight of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Burton spotted me. He did a double take, smiled widely and said, “Here she is.”

  Valerie hopped to her feet and opened her arms wide, her blue eyes reminding me so much of Peter’s. “Maren.” She paused and sighed. “At last. Get over here, honey.”

  I walked to her, and she enveloped me with her loving embrace. We were just about the same height, and I had to resist the urge to place my head on her welcoming shoulder. She smelled like Chanel No. 5, just like my grandmother always did. I inhaled as I hugged her, cherishing the familiar fragrance.

  When she pulled away, she grabbed my forearms with each hand, her eyes boring into mine. “You saved my love. How can I ever thank you—I mean, properly thank you for what you did?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t summon the right words. I was overcome. Burton was standing just a few feet away, hands linked in front of him. I looked away from Valerie to make eye contact, noticing the rosy glow of his cheeks. His skin looked so healthy compared to when I first saw him. Burton nodded, his eyes also welling with tears.

  “I just did what anyone would do in my shoes.” My voice cracked.

  “No,” Valerie insisted, shaking her head and holding up one dainty finger. “You are very special, and we’re just so grateful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” My words were soft, and a lump formed in the back of my throat.


  “Peter should be here soon.” She released my arms and took me by the hand. “Come, our table is ready.”

  The rich smells of marinara sauce, oregano, and basil danced through the air. They tickled my senses and awakened my appetite. It was just then that I’d realized the store had been so busy I’d forgotten to eat lunch. I could only hope my stomach wouldn’t growl in front of Peter’s parents. Luckily the open kitchen lent the familiar sounds of metal pans hitting the burners, sous-chefs chopping vegetables, and waiters giving orders. Even if my stomach was exceptionally loud, I suspected this particular restaurant would keep it under wraps.

  “This is our favorite place. Have you been here before?” Burton asked as we settled into the booth. They left the spot next to me open for Peter.

  “First time, but I’ve heard great things.”

  “You have to try the pasta. They make it in house. I swear it’ll change your life,” Valerie said with a wink.

  The waiter greeted us and told us all about the specials that evening. We each ordered a glass of red wine and returned to perusing the menu.

  “Very unlike Peter to be late,” Valerie said, sounding a little anxious.

  “I’m sure he’s on his way,” Burton reassured her, patting her hand with his own.

  “I’m a little jumpy…ever since this one’s accident,” she leaned into Burton as she spoke, “I’ve become a nervous wreck.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said with a nod.

  “I’m fine, honey. I swear.”

  Valerie inhaled deeply, tucking her blond hair behind her ear. “I know, I know. And I’m sure he’ll walk through the door any second. He had that meeting today; maybe it ran late.”

  I glanced down at my phone. No texts or calls. It was 7:20.

  “Burton, you look great,” I said, attempting to change the subject. I didn’t mind that Peter was late, but seeing Valerie nervous made me slightly uneasy. Obviously he was usually a punctual person. “How are you feeling?”

  “Still bouncing back and getting used to my new di-et.” He enunciated the syllables.

  “Don’t even think about complaining,” Valerie warned, looking over the rims of her glasses. “I’ll rat you out to Dr. Crawford. Besides, you love the fish here.”

  “I was eyeing the pancetta.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she said with a wink. “Fish or fowl, dear.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Valerie rubbed his back with her hand. “Just want the very best for my man.”

  She turned her attention back to me. “So, Peter told me that you have a shop downtown. The Lit Wick, right?”

  “I know that place,” Burton said. “I didn’t know that was your shop. You’re an entrepreneur. I’m very impressed.”

  I could feel my cheeks turning scarlet. “Thank you. It was always my dream to own a bookstore of my own.”

  “A fellow bookworm, huh?”

  “Yes, since middle school when I read my first romance. I hid it under my mattress so my parents wouldn’t know.”

  “Nora Roberts?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Oh honey, she’s the queen.”

  “The best. I would die if I could get her to sign at my store.”

  “You host signings?”

  “Yes, it’s one of the perks of having a bookshop.”

  “I’ll have to get your event schedule,” she said, smiling warmly. “Aside from Queen Nora, who else is on your author bucket list?”

  “Hmm,” I said, pressing my lips together, pondering the question. “Kristen Proby. Have you read her?”

  “She’s fabulous. Her With Me In Seattle series is one of my favorites.”

  “Same.”

  “You should try to get her. And I’ll help. I can try to track down her publicist. Bombard her Instagram account, whatever you need me to do.”

  I was in awe of this woman. “Seriously? That would be amazing, Mrs. McTavish.”

  She shook her head. “Honey, call me Valerie.”

  “Okay, Valerie.” I said, a warm, gushy feeling building in my gut. I was falling hard for Peter’s mother. Her kindness, her humor and sass, she was just a dream.

  “We’ll get Proby, Maren,” she said with a confident wink. “You just watch.”

  “Hmm… 7:30 and still no Peter. Either of you get a text?” Burton asked, now looking concerned himself.

  I reached for my phone. No message.

  “I’ll send him a message, see where he is,” I said.

  -You okay? Your parents seem a little worried.

  He read the message right away and the little dots thumped as he wrote back.

  -Oh shit. I wrote a text to you earlier but forgot to hit send. I’m so sorry, Maren! Got held up with Ekisaito meeting. About to get in a cab right now.

  “He’s okay,” I said, wanting to reassure them. “Meeting ran late.”

  -I’m not the only one who can’t figure out how to use a phone properly, huh?

  -Oh man, you got me. I guess we’re even. Cab’s here, see you in 5.

  Just about five minutes later, Peter, disheveled but ridiculously handsome, approached our table.

  “There’s the man of the hour,” Burton said, standing to pat his son on the back. I stood to greet him as well.

  Peter leaned down and whispered in my ear as he pulled me in for a tight hug. “I will never give you crap again about your fat finger.”

  I giggled, and he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. His lips were cold from the brisk evening air, and he smelled like peppermint.

  “Your father was worried,” Valerie said, winking at me.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Peter said.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Burton said, waving off his wife. “I’m just glad you’re here. Now tell us about the meeting.”

  “It was…interesting,” Peter said, turning to lock eyes with me and taking my hand in his under the table. He squeezed gently. “She offered me a contract.”

  “Peter, that’s amazing,” I said, so excited for him.

  “And that’s not all. She wants me to leave Carlson and work for her full time. That’s why I’m so late. I had no idea she was going to spring that on me.”

  “Wow,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations.”

  “Honey, that’s extraordinary.”

  Burton called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of champagne. “We need to celebrate. You’ve been dreaming of this day since you were nine years old.”

  “That’s true,” he said, beaming. He squeezed my hand again. “I have.”

  Two hours later, with full bellies and light hearts, Peter walked me home. It was a cool October evening with just enough humidity in the air to give you a chill. Bundled up in my heaviest wool peacoat and a scarf my sister, Moira, knitted, Peter held my hand as we walked down the still very busy streets of Seattle.

  “You were such a good sport tonight. Thank you for letting my parents crash our first date.”

  “Are you kidding? I was dying to see your dad again, to see how he’s doing. He really looks great. You would never know…”

  “I know.” He squeezed my hand. “Mom can be a little…much. But you held your own with her.”

  “I love her.” I shrugged. “She’s a strong woman, fierce. I love that she’s direct and honest. It’s refreshing. So many women are kind to your face but are just waiting to stab you in the back. Your mom isn’t like that.”

  “That’s true. She’ll stab you right in the front. And then make sure you see the blood,” Peter said with a laugh. “No, I’m kidding. She’s awesome.”

  “You have great parents.”

  “What about yours?”

  “My dad left when I was ten. My mom worked two jobs while I was growing up, so my sisters and I are really close.”

  “That must’ve been hard. How many sisters?”

  “Three.”

  “Wow, four girls.”

  “Yep, I’m the youngest,” I said. “A
nd you?”

  “I have one half brother who lives in Hawaii, from my dad’s first marriage. We aren’t that close.”

  “That is far. Were you close as kids?”

  “Nah, his mom didn’t really encourage that, and he was so much older than me. My dad tried to play a role in his life for years and years, sending gifts, cards, and eventually emails. He flew to Hawaii whenever he could. But his ex-wife remarried and kind of wanted my dad erased. I called him when my dad was in the hospital. He never called back; just sent a text to give Dad his best.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Mom was infuriated, of course,” Peter said with a chuckle. “She wanted to call Brett, that’s his name, but I wouldn’t let her. Nothing good could come of that. He made his choice, and that’s that. I think Dad’s expectations are low and have been for a while.”

  “So you kinda grew up like an only child then. Was it lonely?”

  “Nah, Mom signed me up for every sport, every club. That woman kept me busy. And I got a lot of really cool experiences out of it. Robotics Club, soccer camp. I got to do a lot of stuff. And it’s probably why I’m so tight with my parents.”

  “I wish I was close with my mom. She bounces from boyfriend to boyfriend, doesn’t really make time for us. I can’t remember the last time I saw her, and she still hasn’t visited my shop.”

  Peters stopped in his tracks. “Wait, never? Didn’t you say you’ve had it for two years?”

  “Yep,” I said, pursing my lips. Tension hung in the air, and I felt awkward. I hated talking about my mom. What I wouldn’t give to have a mom like Valerie McTavish. I wondered if Peter knew how lucky he really was.

  “Sore subject, huh? I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. We all have our baggage, right? She’s mine. And my sisters more than make up for it. They’re all over the country, though, so we don’t see each other nearly as much as we’d like. Except for Christmas. At Christmastime, we all get together. Always.”