Freelance Love (9 page)

“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.

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.”