Dear Editor

by Emily Sharpe

  "In the kitchen," Eric called. "Pouring myself some tea. Want some?"

  "A Long Island, yes," she said, hanging her purse on the peg by the door. This was a joke. Eric didn't drink much, so what alcohol was there was probably hers. "I think there's still a bottle of wine from last—"

  Jessica stood in the doorway to the kitchen, speechless. Eric stood at the sink, shirtless in a pair of jeans and looking absolutely magnificent. The afternoon sun caught his hair just right through the window, and his hair had a bit of a reddish tint to it. Strawberry blonde, she'd always called it, emphasis on the blonde, rather than the strawberry. His beard was gone.

  "What?" he said, catching her staring. He seemed more relaxed than usual. Happier.

  "You shaved your beard." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strange.

  "You noticed!" Eric laughed and bent to get a bottle of Shiraz from the bottom cabinet. Without being asked, he pulled the corkscrew out of the drawer which he kept, she knew, just for her, opened the bottle and poured her a glass into a goblet he also kept just for her. "Madame, zi wine is mag-ni-fique," he said, kissing his fingers for show before handing it to her.

  What is he on? was her first thought. Whatever it is, I approve, was her second.

  "Pizza will be here any minute," he said. "Why don't we sit?"

  They sat on the dark brown couch they'd bought together at IKEA and put their feet up on the oversize matching ottoman. "What a day," they said at the same time and laughed before saying, "You first" at the same time and laughed again. And then they were quiet, sitting back, listening to the sound of their breathing.

  She hoped that he would be pleased about the new editor having such confidence in her and suddenly realized that he'd already seen Worth. Obviously, he was Donna's Eric. Donna would be crushed, but there was no getting around that. She would explain why she'd been at the restaurant with Worth, what it meant, what it didn't mean. Maybe Halloween doesn't need to be mentioned at all.

  She was just getting ready to speak when Eric said such an amazing thing, it took a moment to register. "What did you say?"

  Eric turned to face her and held her chin in his hands, the way he had done so many times. The clean-shaven look would take some getting used to, but he looked good. "I said, I met someone."

  "Who?" Maybe he'd gotten a new lead for a job or had finally become curious about others. He never had been much for small talk, one of the things that was so different between the two of them. He hated going to places like, well, the Halloween party.

  Eric frowned a little for the first time that afternoon. "Now that I say it out loud, it sounds terrible. But I've got to say it. It wouldn't be right not to." He bit his lip then continued. "I went downtown today, to take you to lunch. To surprise you. I was about to get on the elevator when I saw you through the restaurant door, sitting with a man—wasn't he at Rita and Gary's party? Talking to you at the stairs? He sure left in a hurry. But anyway, I wasn't going to barge in or anything." He stopped.

  "And?"

  "And I got in line behind this woman waiting for a hot dog, and we started talking." He shook his head a little, as if still unable to believe it. "Man, did we hit it off."

  Jessica's eyes were round. He was Donna's Eric.

  "I'm so sorry, Jessica," he said. "I love you, but—"

  "But?"

  "I've never felt anything like that. It was electric. We weren't flirting or anything, nothing like that. I was just so drawn to her. I found myself laughing out loud and talking with her so freely. You know I'm not usually like that." He was relieved to have gotten through his little speech, she could tell.

  Clearly, it wasn't electric with me. Jessica nodded, taking it all in. "That was my new editor you saw me with," she said. "He was at the party. briefly. He thought he'd behaved badly and felt terrible about it. Plus, he wanted to talk shop."

  Eric's eyes flickered. "He said something out of line?"

  "No, he didn't say much of anything at all, Eric," she answered honestly. "It just wasn't what he meant to have happen, and he apologized. Profusely. He hadn't known I was there with you, anyway. I think he'll keep me at more than arm's length from now on," she said, quickly correcting a slight wistfulness that crept into her tone. "He wants me to write a column for the magazine."

  "I'm glad he didn't offend you," Eric said. It was like he hadn't even heard the mention of the column. She wasn't surprised—he'd never understood what writing meant to her.

  When the doorbell rang, Eric grabbed a shirt from the back of the couch and slipped into it. Eric never walked around the apartment without a shirt on. He must really be rattled, Jessica thought as he opened the door. A millennial, maybe five years their junior, stood in the doorway with a man-bun and a steaming cardboard box. Eric took the pizza box from the guy with one hand and pulled out a tip from his back pocket with the other. "Thanks, dude," the delivery guy said.

  Sitting at the little kitchen table, between slices of pizza and sips of wine and tea, Eric and Jessica parted company. It wasn't right to continue relating to her as a girlfriend, Eric said, when he'd had such a sudden, overwhelming attraction to a complete stranger. "I feel like such a dope, Jess. I didn't even ask for her number. Or her last name!" He blushed. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive. You don't need to hear all that."

  Jessica was inclined to agree. But he was so sincere, so concerned about hurting her, she couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Donna Jones. She works with me. And she told me a similar story today about meeting a—a wonderful guy named Eric."

  The look on Eric's face made Jessica feel like smiling and crying at the same time. Eric may never be as passionate as Bathroom Guy, but it seemed he was perfectly suited for Donna. And maybe he could be passionate. He just didn't feel that way about her. Or maybe both of them were just wired the same way. Wired differently than she was, anyway.

  Eric and Jessica decided to wait a few days before talking by phone again, but he said he hoped that she'd be okay. She hoped he'd be okay, too, she said, and gave him Donna's extension at the office to reach her directly. "I wish I had her cell number to give you, but we've never spoken by phone."

  "No, this is great. Thank you," Eric said, kissing her lightly on the cheek as she got into her car. "Thank you for everything. I was afraid this would be harder than it was. I didn't want to hurt you."

  There had been so many times over the years when he had hurt her, terribly, with his lack of interest, his thoughtlessness. Jessica was suddenly and miserably aware that she had come perilously close to settling for that kind of genial relationship.

  Worth had aroused incredible passion within her, but that, too, was gone forever, she guessed. He regretted his behavior, and yes, he had been completely presumptuous. He had been out of line. Way out of line. But oh, good Lord, it had felt so right.

  She drove away from Eric's apartment and out of his life. "Maybe," she mumbled aloud, "I should get a cat."

  Chapter 6

  The Editor

  On the way to the office after another restless night, Jessica resolved to meet the Donna-Eric crisis head-on. Not a crisis, exactly, she told herself. A wrinkle? The new normal? Whatever. She would deal with it, as well as with the scheduled Meet and Greet with the new editor, this very morning. She wondered what kind of tone Worth would set with the employees. Warm and friendly? Stern and boundary setting? He had come across more the former, but then again, he was so embarrassed by his behavior at the party, maybe he was more the latter, down deep where it counted.

  At any rate, she desperately wanted to keep Donna as a friend. She wanted to keep Eric as a friend, too. Whether or not that would be possible remained to be seen, but she would do whatever she could on her end. She spotted Donna at the copy machine.

  "Hey, Donna!" she said in her perkiest voice.

  Instead of a bubbly response, however, Donna didn't look up. "Thanks for giving Eric my number," she said coolly. "I'm sure you had lots to talk about last night."

  Oh de
ar. This is not going to happen, Jessica thought. She physically got into Donna's space, forcing her to look at her. "I didn't know, Donna. Believe me! When you told me about the guy you met, I saw very little of the Eric I've always known in your description. And I don't just mean the hair color and beard thing. It didn't sound like my Eric at all!"

  Donna looked away and rolled her eyes, but Jessica plowed on, "I mean, he's not my Eric. Not now. I promise you. I didn't know. I was even thinking about breaking up with him last night, in fact, not that he'd done anything wrong. It—it just felt like it was time."

  She turned Donna back to face her, by gently pulling her chin. "Before I could say anything, though, he told me that he'd met someone. He met you, Donna. And I couldn't be happier that he did. I think you're really going to be good for him, and he deserves the best. So do you. I mean that."

  Donna's cold eyes reflected a slight thaw. She took Jessica by the hands, shaking her head slowly. "I would never have taken a guy away from a friend."

  "I know that," Jessica said, pleased that Donna considered her a friend. "I don't want things to be awkward between us."

  Donna shrugged. "I don't, either—it's just that you and he were together for a while, I gather."

  Jessica sighed and nodded. "We were; it's true. But I never saw him look as happy when he was with me as I saw him when he was talking about you. How about this—I'll give you some space. Get to know Eric on your own terms. Lord knows, I apparently didn't know him that well, from what I saw last night! He was like a different person." She dropped Donna's hands and smiled as she tilted her head. "When you're ready to reconnect, I'll be right here." She pointed at herself. "I'll be the single gal over in the corner."

  That made Donna giggle normally. "Like that'll last. The single girl with the gorgeous flowers on her desk." Her eyes widened as they walked. "Eric didn't send those, I gather, so who did?"

  Jessica wasn't ready to talk about that yet, especially with the meeting coming up. "Long story," she said, dismissing the subject as she stepped into her cubicle area. "Maybe one day."

  "Could I have your attention please?" Skip had a hand-held mic at the front of the room. "Can everybody hear me?"

  Gary, a notorious flirt, yelled from the back of the room. "I think you'd better come a little closer, Skip!" The room erupted in restrained laughter.

  Skip smirked good-naturedly but caught Paul's eye in the back of the group. "Paul, would you please go teach Gary some manners? Thanks, honey." He sniffed into the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen—not you, Gary—it gives me great pleasure to introduce our new editor, Worth Vincent."

  There was polite applause. Everyone was a bit on edge, not knowing what to expect. When Maureen had first taken over as editor of Our Place, many heads had rolled, from what Jessica had heard. Another writer caught Jessica's eye with a "yikes" expression, intended as sympathy. Jessica was the newbie, the latest hire, after all. If anyone was getting the axe, it would be Jessica. Even though she knew it would not, at least not any time soon, she suddenly realized that that was the general assumption.

  Damn, she thought, turning her attention to Worth. He's as handsome as ever.

  "Good morning, everyone," he began. "I appreciate you letting me interrupt your schedules, and I'll quote Shakespeare here: 'Since brevity is the soul of wit/ And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief…' By the way, I also appreciate brevity. I want more stories with less verbiage—I think that will be effective in increasing readership and sales. Not that the numbers are bad now." He held up a hand for clarification. "In fact, that's one reason you caught our attention. You've already got a strong magazine. Together, my mother and I think we can make it even stronger."

  "'Mother?'" a man murmured behind Jessica. "Mama's boy? Sheesh. I wonder if he's gay, entitled, or just a loser."

  Jessica stifled a laugh, letting her mind wander back to her encounter with Worth at the party. Definitely not gay. Maybe he had felt a little too entitled to her attention, but the only thing he came close to losing was that costume.

  I would have known it wasn't Eric then, she thought, confident that she could at least tell a few things in the dark. You didn't even notice he had a different beard. Or was bald, her inner self reminded her. Face it, you didn't care who it was at the moment.

  And then everyone was looking at her.

  Worth continued. "Jessica? Maybe she didn't hear me, folks. Or she was ignoring me? I have that effect on women at times." More polite laughter as Jessica made her way to the front, the employees parting to let her pass, many of them with raised eyebrows.

  "That was quick work," someone murmured.

  "Mmmhmmm," another answered.

  As she walked to the front—for what reason, she had no clue, since she'd been mentally wrapped around Darth Vader in the throes of passion—she felt her cheeks flush with heat.

  "We've been following Jessica Daniels' work for some time," Worth was saying. "To be frank, the fact that she had been recruited to write for you was one of the reasons we pursued the purchase in the first place. And although she's been doing a great job in the last few months, I've asked her to change hats, so to speak. Or at least add another. Meet our monthly 'back page' columnist. Jessica, take a bow."

  Jessica's eyes narrowed a little in reply, but she turned and gave a little wave to the room as she took the mic from her new boss. "Thanks, guys," she said. "When Mr. Vincent asked me about making the transition, I was pleased to do whatever I could for the magazine, especially," as she turned to face Worth, "when he assured me that he wasn't letting anyone go."

  She smiled. Worth nodded as if to say, well played.

  A collective sigh of relief passed through the room as Jessica continued. "We're a team, and I'm sure you will welcome Mr. Vincent and his mother as our new editor and publisher with the same warmth you've shown me. Thanks everyone, and, um, back to you, Mr. Vincent."

  This time, the applause was genuine. No one had rocked any boats or stirred any hornet's nests. In this business, they were painfully aware that it could happen at any time, but for the moment, everyone was on solid ground.

  Worth held out his hand for the mic and Jessica made a little gag out of it, as if she were hesitant to give it up. When she handed it over, she quickly merged with the other employees, losing herself in the crowd, giving her cheeks time to resume their normal level of heat. She took a deep breath and blew it out as she returned to where she'd been standing.

  "You did fine," Donna whispered from behind her, putting her arm around Jessica's waist. Jessica laid her head on Donna's shoulder and squeezed herself closer.

  "Thank you all," Worth said. "My mother is out of the country at the moment, but you'll meet her soon. This is not her first experience with the news business—my father was a newspaper man, and she is thrilled at the opportunity to build on his dreams, even so long after he passed away. It is not," he continued with a smile, "my first experience, either. But as Ms. Daniels reminded us, this is a team effort. In the next few days and weeks, I'd like to meet with each of you over lunch, getting to know you better, and you getting to know me."

  A brassy blonde from classifieds was near enough for Jessica to hear her tell anyone who was listening that she would love to get to know that man in the biblical sense, "Know what I mean?" Jessica's cheeks burned again at the woman's bawdy chuckle.

  "So, everyone back to work now! Thank you for adjusting your schedule where necessary, but now, let's put a magazine out." Worth was wrapping things up. "Oh, and Ms. Daniels?" His eyes met hers. "Please come to my office when you can make your way."

  Great. Jessica's plan to get her thoughts together and begin planning her first all-important column flew out the window. Maybe he wants to apologize for kissing me again, like that was the most despicable experience of his life. Between Worth's apologies and Eric's bombshell, Jessica was not feeling her most attractive.

  One by one and in groups of twos and threes, the staff dispersed quietly,
basking in the afterglow of reassurance. No one would be cleaning out desk drawers today. In this business, that meant a successful meeting.

  Worth was already sitting behind Maureen's desk—his desk now, of course—by the time Jessica made it through the group, grateful for more than a few well wishes to counter the brief snippets of snarkiness she'd overheard earlier. She tapped on the doorframe quietly. "You wanted to see me?" She was still unsure of the dynamics. "Sir?"

  Worth was not smiling. "Close the door, please, Ms. Daniels, and have a seat."

  She did so, and while he seemed to be studying some important document on his desk, she looked around. He wasn't finished making the room his own, but he had begun. She glanced at the various photos and letters featured on the wall until she came to one in particular. She couldn't help herself—she burst out laughing. In one of the frames, where she expected to find a diploma from a prestigious journalism school were the words "Document Frame" in big letters, adorned with fancy curlicues.

  Worth looked up from the paper he held with appreciation. "Well done! Not everyone notices—or if they do, they don't show it."

  "That's very clever, sir." She looked around. "Where is your actual diploma?"

  He seemed amused. "I don't have one. I lack two classes to graduate—journalism, ironically enough, and a foreign language. I got hired by a newspaper during my senior year, took to the business and never finished." He noticed her blush. "I believe we have that in common, isn't that correct?"

  "Y-yes, sir," she stammered. "I also did not graduate. I did put the college on my resume, but perhaps you saw that I left the year off?" People were often fired for less than that; the position had clearly indicated that having a college degree was a prerequisite.

  "Yet here you are. Maureen hired you, as I would have," he said and then seemed annoyed as he rubbed his eyes. "May we dispense with the 'sir' bullshit once and for all, Jessica?"