Today's Reading
"I need a follow-up novel, Berit."
"I'm not going to write it."
"August at the latest. The readers are expecting a new book from you next year."
"I'll never be ready by then."
"That's why I'm sending help! Someone who'll be happy and grateful to cater to your every whim. Grateful. She loves your books so much she's actually willing to put up with you. I warned her, but she said, 'Whatever it takes to read another book by Berit E. V. Gardner, I'll do it!' You can always send her back if you're not happy."
"Wait!" said Berit. "I don't even know her na—" But Olivia had already hung up.
***
Sally had two options.
One, she could admit defeat and head home.
Two, she could walk the three meters to the door and knock again.
Sally stared at the door in front of her. It was pale blue with a white frame, and the paint had started to flake away. Beside it, there was a wooden sign with the words Wisteria Cottage painted in the same shade as the door. The flowers from which the house took its name framed everything, making it look like something out of a Beatrix Potter story. Sally half expected to see a talking rabbit, hedgehog, or duck appear from the bushes at any moment.
Berit Gardner probably hadn't heard her first timid knock, but Sally didn't want to try again in case it seemed like she was pestering her. Then again, she had caught a glimpse of a face in the kitchen window, and logically that face should have seen her too. Yet the door remained stubbornly closed, and she was still standing on the gravel path, going through her options.
Sally couldn't go home. She couldn't go back and say that Berit hadn't even let her inside. It was ridiculous. It was...undignified. She was practically a grown-up now.
OK, she told herself. She would march right up to the door and knock firmly, loud enough that it made a sound this time, and then she would look Berit E. V. Gardner straight in the eye and say, "Hi! I'm Sally Ma—"
No, it was probably best not to mention her surname just yet, which put her in a bit of a tricky position. She could hardly just go up to the author and introduce herself as "Sally," as though she was some chirpy American waitress. OK, forget the name. She would simply say, "Hi, I'm your new assistant."
But that plan wasn't exactly socially acceptable, either. Just turning up and claiming that you had come to work for someone. Sally was pretty sure her new boss should at least know she had been given an assistant.
She swallowed. She was tired and hungry after the journey from London. The closest train station was a twenty-minute drive away, and there hadn't been any taxis when she arrived. The only bus went once a day, fifteen minutes before her train arrived, and so she hadn't had any choice but to grab her suitcase and start walking. She would probably still be lugging it behind her now if it wasn't for the man around her age who had slowed down, stuck his head out of the window, and asked if she'd run away from home.
Sally had been a hot, sweaty mess, and she couldn't think of anything to say. As it happened, that didn't matter because he didn't wait for an answer before he went on.
"Liam Slater. Driver, knight in shining armor—or a grubby Vauxhall, anyway. Available for hire or sale, cash or down payment. Generous terms, low interest rates, no hidden fees."
When she failed to speak, he had leaned over the seat, opened the passenger-side door, and told her to get in.
"You visiting someone?" he asked once she was in the car.
"I'm not sure."
Thinking back to that moment now, Sally shuddered with embarrassment.
He must have thought she was a prize idiot.
"Wisteria Cottage, Albert Lane," Liam had repeated to himself. "That's the author's place, isn't it? The Swedish one? Kind of weird?"
"Berit Gardner."
"She a friend of yours, then?"
"Not...exactly. I'm going to be working for her. Maybe."
"What, she hasn't made up her mind yet? Is it like a trial thing? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do great. She'll love you. But she can't be much of a boss if she just left you at the station like this! Everyone who lives 'round here knows that the bus and the train times don't match up. Why didn't she come to get you?"
"She doesn't even know I exist."
Liam had stared at her then.
...
