“Yeah, what’s up? I’d like to hear this idea,” said Ian.
“After we finished talking a while ago, I realized other writers – and editors – are open to the same kind of charges I faced. Now, granted, I’ve been fortunate because I’ve been able to find an attorney who’s helping me. He’s been great in taking my case through the courts and making John back off from me. Anyway, other writers and editors could probably benefit from knowing my experiences and how I’ve responded to them and what I’m doing. I’m thinking that an e-book would be a good tool, if you’d agree to edit it.”
“How long would this e-book be? Do you know?”
“Well, that would depend on how much I plan to include – like the prelude, when John actually called Lily with his allegations. Definitely what I did to continue supporting myself and to find Rick and hire him. Also, the outcome of my lawsuit and probably the aftermath – what happens with any award – or no award, and what happens to John.”
“Hmmm. You know, this isn’t a bad idea, Morgan. Write up and outline and bring it with you on Wednesday. You’d probably want to get Rick’s input as well. I’ll edit it for you at my usual rate. You’d need to find someone to format it before you upload it and publish it,” Ian said.
“Okay. Wow. I’ll see what I can find out about formatting and publishing. That shouldn’t be too terribly hard. I’ll bring my notes over and we can talk about them on Wednesday. Thanks, Ian!” Morgan hung up before she said something to Ian that would embarrass her. Feeling restless, she grabbed her keys, phone and a bottle of water and took off for a walk. Coming back, she fanned herself under her air conditioner and flopped onto her sofa, thinking. Her thoughts ranged from her e-book idea, to her current magazine articles and, then to her lawsuit. As she thought, her cell phone trilled. Looking at the caller I.D. readout, she saw that Rick was calling her back.
“Hey, Rick, how are you?” She swiped a tissue over her face, removing sweat.
“Good! It’s hot out there – you sound breathless,” Rick observed.
“Yeah, just got back from a walk. I needed to sort my thoughts out.”
“Well, listen. I have some good news for you. I ran into John’s attorney at the courthouse, and he told me that he thinks John’s amenable to a settlement. You could be looking at between $175,000 and say, $225,000. Apparently, John’s attorney has read him the riot act and let him know that what he pulled was monumentally stupid and selfish. He also told John that news of his attempted defamation would get out to other business leaders here in Las Cruces – which would basically ruin his standing here in the business community.”
Morgan, hearing the possible amount of the settlement, was glad she was sitting down, otherwise, she would have fallen to the ground.
“What? That much? I didn’t expect it to be – wow! I could pay off a couple bills and buy some things I’ve been needing, then invest the rest. Are you sure it’s that much?”
“It’s not a definite, yet, Morgan. Mr. Scott just said that John is only ‘amenable’ to the thought of a settlement. He may back down and demand that this go to a full trial. He’s an unpredictable guy,” said Rick.
“Wow! When will we know?” Morgan asked.
“I’m giving it another few weeks. Mr. Scott has promised to keep me up-to-date and I’ve asked him to let me know if and when John decides on either a settlement or to go to full trial.”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for your call. Listen, I had an idea earlier – other writers and editors have probably gone through what I’m going through – what would you think about my writing an e-book, telling them that they can fight back? And, would you be willing to be a consultant or to write a section for my e-book?”
“Okay, when you say you want to explain what happened to you, do you want to write about everything you were accused of – and name your accuser? Because that could cause some problems,” Rick predicted.
“I would be much more likely to explain in full what I was accused of. I’d want to interview Lily and get her point of view about what she thought when John accused me of outsourcing. I’d keep John’s identity cloaked. Would I need to cloak Lily’s or the magazine’s identity?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. Come up with pseudonyms for John, her and the magazine – you want to protect them as well.”
“Okay. I’m writing all this down as we talk, so if you hear me muttering, that’s it. I’ll work on this idea some more and we can talk later in the week or next week. I would definitely get Ian’s help with editing. This isn’t going to happen right away – I’d want to wait until my lawsuit has been decided upon by a jury – or if and when John settles. Then, I’d need to interview you, Lily and other editors. Then, there’s the writing and research. Then Ian would edit for me. After that, I’d format it, which would take some time. Only after all that is done can I even think of registering with a site to publish the book, so I’d expect it’s about a year away – if then.”
“Okay, then, before you make a final decision, Morgan, I’d like to talk to you some more to make sure that you’re prepared. You don’t want to lose everything you’re looking more likely to gain from your lawsuit. We can keep communication going on after your lawsuit is resolved, okay?”
“Sounds great, Rick. I appreciate it.” Morgan hung up and thought. She occasionally scribbled down a note as new considerations came up. Looking at what she had written down, she smiled, feeling pleased.
Morgan pulled up to Ian’s neat adobe home, marveling once again at the plant life he had planted and nurtured into lush greenery. She sat in her car for a few extra seconds, willing her heart to stop pounding as she scolded herself. Stop acting like a high school kid, Morgan! You’re a grown woman and you can handle your attraction to Ian. Besides, you asked for time to think things through – and he consented. Just walk up to that door, ring the bell and hit working mode like the professional writer you are.
With this reassuring thought in mind, she grabbed her carryall and strode to the front door. Knocking, she released a long, nervous breath and held on to the reminder of her professionalism.
Ian heard the knock and, letting out a breath of his own, he quickly glanced over the kitchen table – pens, paper, steaming cups of coffee and a plate of cut fruit. Nodding in satisfaction, he jogged to the door and opened it.
“Morgan, how are you? Welcome! Come on in!” he said, opening the door wider to welcome his colleague in. Closing the door, he reconsidered and opened it, allowing the morning sun and fresh air to enter.
“Thanks for inviting me! That coffee smells wonderful. I’ve brought everything so you can go over it – I actually got all four articles written and printed out.” Morgan stopped talking, feeling as if she had begun to ramble. Feeling Ian’s touch on her back, she moved toward the kitchen and smiled when she saw the plate of cut fruits – strawberries, watermelon, apples and orange sections.
“Here, you sit here so I can get up to get more coffee when we need it – I’ve planned a longer session now that you’re getting more article orders. Sugar or sweetener? Milk or creamer?” Ian asked.
“Sweetener and creamer, please.” Morgan sipped the hot and tasty brew, closing her eyes at the rich, delicious taste. She speared several pieces of fruit and began eating as Ian joined her. Thirty minutes later, the two had become embroiled in a spirited argument over the wording in one of her articles. “Ian, I said that the service coordinators assess the abilities of the children in their caseloads. Once they have written out their assessments, they forward them to the treatment professionals, who decide what the most appropriate treatments are. The service coordinators don’t devise the treatment plans – they don’t have the education or background to do so,” Morgan said, tapping her pen for emphasis.
“So, you’re saying the coordinators interview the parents and doctors and they gather the findings? That’s what they forward to the treatment people? Well, we need to make sure everyone understands that’s what ‘assessment’
is, Morgan. I think you could replace ‘assessment’ with ‘learn’ or ‘discover.’ Remember, you’re writing to about an 8th-grade level, here.”
“Oh, good Lord, Ian! I think readers will understand what I say when I say ‘assessment!’ They aren’t stupid!”
“No, they aren’t. But not everyone has our command of language.”
“Well, I can’t use ‘diagnose,’ because they aren’t medical professionals. Now, can I?”
“Shit, Morgan! Come on! You’re getting ridiculous here! Replace ‘assess’ with ‘learn’ and be done with it,” Ian exploded.
Morgan glared at Ian and wrote a note to herself. She continued working with him on the rest of that article and was thankful when he approved the remainder with small or only cosmetic changes. It was well after lunch when they finished going through all of Morgan’s articles. She shut her file folder gratefully and leaned back, feeling tired. The morning’s wrangles, along with her efforts to ignore her feelings for Ian had worn her out.
“So, what was this idea for an e-book you had?” he asked.
Morgan went into more detail on her idea, explaining that she had realized that most freelancers were vulnerable to false charges of plagiarism or other unethical actions. “It just seems that, if we all had kind of a ‘I’ve been through this and here’s what I did’ book, more of us would be able to keep our writing and editing businesses operating rather than having to give up and go back to work for someone else.”
“What does Rick think?”
“Cloak identities for Lily, the magazine and John to prevent any possibilities of lawsuits. Write the book. I want to find out if Rick is willing to act as a consultant or write a section of the book – would you be willing to edit it?”
“Of course, but at my usual rate – will that be within your reach financially?”
“If I win my lawsuit, that’s very likely. Yes. We get into some pretty spirited arguments, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else editing my work, to tell you the truth,” Morgan said with a smile.
“Huh. Yeah, well, you usually come up with some really good arguments for your choices and decisions – which I respect, so don’t mistake my roughness for anything else. You’re a damned good writer, Morgan. I’m just working to pull the best possible out of you – because I can see it in you.”
“Well, thank you! And, on that note, I think I’d better leave because I have quite a few changes to make before I submit everything before my deadlines. Besides, I’m bushed.” Morgan gathered her articles and notes, slipping them into her bag with her computer and pen. She followed Ian to his open front door and was surprised when he dropped a gentle kiss on her lips.
Ian shocked himself when he bent down to Morgan’s level and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting his surprise, which he saw echoed in Morgan’s deep and gentle brown eyes.
“I . . . think I’d better get . . .” Morgan said, fumbling for the screen door’s handle. Then, stepping closer to Ian, she pressed her lips to his, shocking herself. The couple wound their arms around each other, drawing out their kiss.
I could get used to this. Why am I delaying the inevitable? I’m attracted to him, he’s a good man, and he’s attracted to me. Breaking the kiss, Morgan looked at Ian with shock in her deep-brown eyes.
“Oh! I’m . . .”
Stepping outside, she shut the door. Turning, she walked to her car, as fast as she could. Thumbing the key fob, she unlocked the door and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat. Waving, she drove off and home.
Ian locked his screen door, deep in thought. What was that about? She’s your writing client, dammit! Don’t start treating her like a girlfriend because she’s not – yet. But . . . man! That second kiss. She started that one. Ian, I think she’s admitting she’s attracted to you.
***
At home, Morgan stretched her neck and back when she had finished making extensive changes to one of her articles. She grabbed her phone, seeing that Rick was on the line.
“Rick? Any news?”
“Good afternoon! Looks like I have potentially good news. We need to meet John and his attorney this Friday at the courthouse. What time is convenient for you?”
“Mid-afternoon? I’ll be in that area anyway, dropping off my final drafts with my clients,” Morgan said, pen in hand.
“Friday, mid-afternoon. Three-thirty? I’ll meet you at the front,” Rick promised.
“I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”
“I’ll have my assistant call you. How’s that?”
“Great. I’ll be waiting,” Morgan said.
Chapter 8
Morgan dressed carefully for her meeting with Rick, John Mack and his attorney. Above all, she wanted to project professionalism and an air of confidence – even if she was quivering like a bowl of soft-set gelatin on the inside. She chose a dark-blue skirt and blazer set with a light blue blouse and dark gray pumps. She arranged her pepper-and-salt hair into a loose French braid and she chose neutral cosmetics. She opted to leave her laptop at home, taking copies of all of her past magazine articles instead, along with a pad and pen. Knowing her heartbeat was higher than normal, she took extra care as she drove from the University Heights neighborhood where she lived toward the courthouse.
Don’t let John goad you into saying anything you know you’ll regret. Stifle that temper of yours and keep the high ground. If he wants to wallow in the muck, let him – you don’t need to join him. Morgan, keep that settlement in mind and allow that to put a smile on your face.
Pulling into a vacant spot at the district courthouse downtown, Morgan paused long enough to add lipstick to her lips. Grabbing her purse, she stashed her cellphone in the center console and slipped her tote bag on her shoulder. Grinning, she spotted Rick Devins, waiting for her by the long bank of frosted windows that fronted the parking lot.
“Hey, Morgan! How are you?” Rick asked.
“Nervous! I reminded myself the whole way here not to let John goad me into a reaction. I’m letting him muck around with the pigs. I’ll stay clean, thank you,” Morgan said with a twinkle.
“Excellent! Do you have your past work with you? Copies of your contracts?”
“All here. Pad and a pen as well, so I can make notes while we talk.”
“Let’s go in and find a spare room to talk. I want to go over some strategies with you before we get called into the courtroom,” Rick suggested.
The hearing was adjourned after the judge ruled in Morgan’s favor. Rick made arrangements to get a copy of the order and Morgan’s portion of the settlement check to her. “I’ll deduct the 25 percent of the check for my payment and the rest will go to you. I’ll recommend a few financial advisors to help you set up a good investment plan. Pay off a few bills and set the rest of the money into a portfolio. You’ll be pretty much set.”
Morgan hugged Rick, giving him her sincere thanks. Leaving the courthouse, she went home, thinking about how her life had just changed. Dropping her papers and purse, she called Ian, who, when he heard the news, suggested a celebration.
“I’ll take some steaks and wine and you can make some baked potatoes and a salad. We’ll celebrate late into the evening,” he said.
After hanging up, Morgan sat heavily on her sofa, thinking of the huge award she had just won. Her thoughts veered to the permanent order barring John Mack from contacting her, then she began to think about Ian. As she entered a hot fantasy, her eyes became unfocused.
Ian held Morgan’s hand as they walked carefully through the trails behind “A” Mountain. Morgan, feeling the strong grip of Ian’s hand, felt safe in his presence. She was going to admit her feelings to him – she had fallen in love with him, hard, and her heart was his.
“I’d like to donate $10 million to the children in Rwanda,” Ian said with a happy grin creasing his face.
“Hmm, that sounds . . . nice,” Morgan said, trying to make it sound as if she had been following his conversat
ion all along.
“Uh, earth to Morgan! I don’t have $10 million. Where are you?” Ian said, waving a large hand in front of Morgan’s eyes.
“What? I was just . . . thinking,” Morgan said as a soft blush colored her cheeks.
“Yeah, thinking. Right. You were completely gone, there, sweetheart,” Ian said. He looked at her carefully.
“Okay, then, I’ll admit it. What did you say?” Morgan asked. Now, her blush was more obvious.
“I suggested that we move in together. I’m completely besotted and I want to be with you every day. This . . . shit . . . of two households is for the birds. We’re always with each other as it is. What do you say?”
“Oh! Uh. Yes, I like that. But . . . whose house? Or do we find a whole other place?” Morgan asked, trying to keep her heart from hammering its way out of her throat.
“Mine. I’ve bought it and I have a lot of room in my office to put your own office supplies in. Besides, mine’s a bit bigger than yours,” said Ian.
“Wow, clearly, you’ve put some thought into this!” Morgan said, with her eyes wide.
“You got it, woman. I’m in love with you and I’m doing everything I can to make a life with you a reality, not just a dream up in the clouds somewhere,” Ian said with a meaningful look.
“I’m in love with you, too . . . how do you know that we can keep working as writer and editor if we move in together?”
“Where is it written in the Great Writer’s Bible that a writer and editor who’ve worked together can’t have a personal relationship, let alone share a home?” Ian asked.
“Oh, we-e-e-e-e-ll, I’ve never seen it written anywhere,” Morgan said. Moistening suddenly dry lips, she became aware that her heart was pounding in double-time.
“Exactly. So, who’s to say we’re breaking any rules? Why can’t we make up a few new ones of our own? I remember telling you a few weeks ago that we’re two reasonably sane professionals. I’m sure we can keep that, along with adding the personal relationship. Not that it’ll always be easy, and we’re going to have to remember to keep our work and personal lives separate . . . you’re the consummate professional, Morgan. You won’t allow your feelings for me to cloud your judgment. We’ve been working together now for a couple years. I know your writing and working styles – and I have the utmost respect for that and your writing ability. Come on . . . what do you say? Let’s admit that it’s time to move to the next level of our lives. We love each other. I miss you terribly when you’re at your house and I’m in mine. I want us to be together, every day,” Ian said, a sparkle brightening his blue eyes.
Freelance Love Page 7