The Accidental Bestseller (37 page)

Kendall Aims had been right when she’d had her character Kennedy Andrews call the assignment of a young assistant to her book an insult of the highest order.

But now, having read what Kendall was capable of, Lacy wanted to make it up to her. The only way she could do that was to get
Sticks and Stones
its due.

This, of course, would be much easier said than done.

30

—RAYMOND CHANDLER

 

 

 

In the morning, Lacy took her time in the shower, trying to come up with some means of convincing Jane to do right by
Sticks and Stones
. As she dressed and tucked the manuscript back into her briefcase, she had to admit that if she’d ever had the slimmest hope of influencing her boss in any way—and this was a big question mark—she’d forfeited it when she started dating Cash Simpson. Her part in making Kendall’s already bad situation worse made Lacy all the more determined to get Kendall’s book its due.

She dragged her feet on the way to the office, debating how to best handle Jane. But as she rode the elevator up to the editorial floor, she realized that Jane Jensen was not now, and had probably never been, “handleable.” Even if her boss hadn’t already written off Kendall Aims, even if she hadn’t been completely pissed with Lacy, convincing the executive editor to do anything she didn’t want to belonged in the category of “not gonna happen.”

Could she convince Jane that she
wanted
to do something for Kendall Aims’s book? This, too, seemed highly unlikely and better suited to a plot in a television sitcom than the harsh reality of Scarsdale Publishing.

In her cubicle, Lacy pulled the manuscript out of her briefcase and set the big mound of paper, now slightly dog-eared, on her desk. It consisted of some hundred and something thousand words double-spaced across four hundred and something pages. It contained the journeys of four unforgettable female characters and it deserved to go out into the world under the best possible circumstances with all the resources that a big New York publisher like Scarsdale could put behind it.

She went and made coffee, using the time it took the hot liquid to pool in the carafe to sort though possible strategies. She came up with nothing. Not a single argument that might convince Jane Jensen that Kendall Aims and her book were worthy of attention.

Lacy knew in her heart that Jane, who was erratic and ruled by her emotions, which appeared constantly conflicted, was never going to accept Lacy’s analysis of the book. She would never act just because Lacy urged her to.

Lacy poured a cup of coffee for herself and one for Jane, which she lightened and sweetened the way her boss liked it. In her cubicle she set her cup down on the warmer and, once again, contemplated the manuscript. She could practically hear the book calling out to her, begging for her help. But how was she supposed to convince Jane to do anything for a book she hadn’t even read?

Lacy’s head jerked up as realization dawned.

The only thing she really had to do was get Jane to read
Sticks and Stones
. Because then, regardless of her personal feelings, Jane Jensen would have to recognize how commercially viable
Sticks and Stones
was. How much could be done with it.

Surely Jane Jensen, vindictive as she was, wouldn’t squelch a potential moneymaker; surely even Jane Jensen cared about doing her job and making money for her employer.

Surely.

Lacy left her coffee at her desk and scooped up the manuscript, hugging it to her chest as she carried Jane’s coffee to her office. At the open doorway, she waited for Jane to acknowledge her existence and wave her in. Lacy set the cup of coffee on her boss’s desk and waited to be invited to speak. Although she hadn’t yet figured out her pitch, she was determined not to leave this office with the manuscript. She was going to pass it on to Jane.

Finally Jane looked up. “What?” she demanded.

Lacy felt a stammer coming on. She banished it. This was not about her. It was about
Sticks and Stones
and getting it what it deserved.

“Kendall Aims’s manuscript came in.”

“So?”

“So. I read it and it’s . . .”

Jane’s gaze sharpened.

“It’s fabulous. More than fabulous really. It’s one of the best books I’ve read in ages.”

Jane shook her head. “Maybe in comparison to the slush pile. Perhaps you’ve read more of the slush than you should have.” She sniffed and turned away in dismissal. But Lacy didn’t move.

Jane turned back to her. “You’re still here,” she said, clearly unhappy about it.

Lacy drew a deep preparatory breath. She’d been taught to stand up for what she believed in; she couldn’t let a little derision from Jane Jensen stop her from trying to do what needed to be done. “You have to read it.”

Jane’s face registered her shock. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

“No. Of course not.”

“Good.” She turned her back on Lacy again. “You can go.”

Wanting more than anything to do as she’d been told, Lacy nonetheless stood her ground. “I can’t.” Once again she drew a breath and then plunged in where she knew she shouldn’t go. “I think if you just read the first few chapters you’ll be as excited about the manuscript as I am.”

She had Jane’s full attention now. And not in a good way. But she’d committed to a course of action and there was no going back. “It’s too good for me to handle. It deserves an experienced editor. You need to read it.” She swallowed. “And edit it. And put Scarsdale’s resources behind it.”

Jane’s face turned an ugly red. Lacy had a bad feeling that the part where her head did a 360 on her neck was going to come next. She prepared to duck before the green bile began to blow. But instead of shouting as she usually did, Jane’s voice turned icy. Which was even scarier. “So your vast experience with the submissions of convicts and mental patients qualifies you to recognize a great manuscript. And to somehow tell me what to do with it.”

“I’m just trying to make you see that this is a manuscript you need to read. I’m sure that once you do you’ll see—”

No longer trying to mask her anger, Jane sprang from her chair and moved toward Lacy. “What I see is an assistant who has stepped way over the line.” She came closer until they were virtually nose to nose, or given the disparity in their heights, nose to neck. “I have exactly
no
interest in anything that Kendall Aims has written. And the fact that a ‘fraternizing nobody’ with a thimbleful of experience is telling me I should be, makes me even less interested. If that were possible.” Her eyes were flinty. Despite the icy delivery, her whole body quivered with rage.

Lacy felt like a lion tamer facing a wounded king of beasts without so much as a chair. She fell back a step, but knew that if she betrayed the extent of her fear, she’d be torn to bits. “If you could just let go of your anger and consider reading the first few—” she began.

“That’s enough!” Jane bit out. “If you want to keep your job or ever have another in this business, don’t say one more word.”

Closing her mouth as instructed, Lacy clasped the manuscript to her chest and watched her boss struggle for control. Jane drew a deep breath then exhaled and some of the tension seemed to seep out of her.

“Now you’re going to take that manuscript back to your desk and you’re going to do whatever you can for it editorially.” Jane’s tone grew more reasonable, but Lacy was afraid to trust it. “Then we’re going to put the cover we already have on it and it’s going to be released next December as scheduled. End of story.”

She gave Lacy a level look, as if they hadn’t just hurtled toward some emotional precipice and only pulled back at the last possible moment.

“Got it?” Jane asked.

Lacy nodded, but she was still afraid to speak. When it appeared that Jane wasn’t going to say anything else, Lacy backed out of her boss’s office and hightailed it to her cubicle.

Back at her desk, Lacy reached for the cup of coffee, but her hand shook so badly the milky brown liquid sloshed all over her desk. She put it down untasted and tried to calm herself.

Although she would have liked to deny it, the truth was she was afraid of Jane and her roller-coaster emotions. And of losing her job. But at the same time, she just couldn’t let the book die. Even though she had no idea how to save it.

Her brain raced down every path it could think of, but her experience and knowledge were so limited that the paths were few and led only to dead ends.

When she was certain that Jane had left for lunch, Lacy dialed the phone number Kendall Aims had included in her e-mail. She waited nervously for the author to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

Lacy heard what sounded like the whir of a power tool in the background. “Is this Kendall?” she asked, having only heard the author’s voice once before.

“Yes.” The whirring noise stopped.

“This is, um, Lacy Samuels.” She paused. “At Scarsdale. In New York.”

“Oh. Hi.” A pause. “Did you get the manuscript?”

“Yes, in fact that’s why I’m calling.”

There was another pause. She could actually feel the author’s wariness. “Oh.” Another long beat. “Is there a problem?”

She’d realized when she read Kendall Aims’s description of her that Kendall had automatically assumed the worst about the person assigned to edit her book.

“No!” Lacy said, consciously trying to lower and “de breathalize” her voice. “There’s no problem. I actually called to tell you how much I loved it.”

There was an even longer pause.

“You’ve already read it?” Kendall Aims’s tone conveyed her incredulity.

“I printed it out early the morning after it arrived. And once I started reading it, I couldn’t put it down. I finished reading it about three A.M.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. No joke. I just couldn’t get over how individually compelling the four main characters were. You have one of the most incredible commands of point of view I’ve ever read.”

There was another pause, longer this time.

“I’ve never had anyone read a manuscript this quickly,” Kendall said. “Even before Mia left to have her baby, she sometimes took as long as a month. I haven’t even heard back from my agent yet.”

“Well, I may be a little bit on the new side,” she said. “But you’re my only author. So I have a lot more time to focus on you than a more experienced editor might.” Except of course for the felonious slush pile.

“About the description of the editorial assistant . . .” Kendall began.

“No, it’s OK,” Lacy said. “Now that I understand more, I can see why Jane assigning me to you would feel like an insult.” She paused a moment, unsure how much she could safely reveal. But the truth was, at the moment Kendall had no more power than Lacy. Somehow it felt important to let her know that although it might not translate into action, she was at least on Kendall’s side. Or rather on the side of her book.

“It’s true that I don’t have much experience or clout. But I love
Sticks and Stones
and . . .” Should she say this when she was still waffling about how far she could stick her neck out? Yes, she thought. She had to do whatever she could for this book. Even if it meant losing her position. “And I’m going to do everything I possibly can for it.”

“Oh.” The one word carried a wealth of amazement.

“Of course, I don’t know how well I’ll succeed. Jane is, um, not inclined to rethink her plans for it at the moment.”

“No, I don’t suppose she would be.”

“But I’m not a quitter. I’ve just got to learn how to work within the system on your behalf.”

There was another weighty pause. And then. “Well if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Kendall said.

“I will.”

And then as they said their good-byes, a last remark from Kendall: “Thanks, Lacy. For your interest, I mean. Sometimes when you have to eat an elephant, the biggest problem is finding someone to take that very first bite.” A smile took over her voice, the first Lacy had ever heard from her. “Bon appétit!”