Reluctantly I lowered myself into one of the chairs and hugged my purse to my chest, because I wasn’t about to put it on the floor. As I processed the dismal backdrop, I considered making a run for it. Maggie had correctly pointed out that I don’t need to be here, financially speaking. Surely the receptionist wouldn’t mind if I skipped out. Danny probably wouldn’t care, either. My absence would be an uneventful blip in the haste of his day. The pitiable housewife who couldn’t even make it to the interview.
I stopped myself right there. Marinating in self-pity is not an option. Neither is crying. Although I can’t shake the thought from my head that this is who I am. The lady in the expensive suit, beneath the more expensive coat, wearing knee-length boots that cost more than a monthly payment on my Cadillac Escalade. The lady who’s too ashamed to feel sorry for herself.
It hit me like a migraine. Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down. The only thing worse than weeping in public is puking in your lap.
I wonder if it’s possible to feel empowered and inadequate at the same time. Ready to take on the world, if only the world will go easy on me.
“Mrs. Bennett?” A male voice interrupted my musing.
“Ms.,” I corrected on instinct, even though I’m still using my marital last name. It’s amazing how the absence of one letter can be so meaningful. “Ms. Bennett.”
“My apologies, Ms. Bennett. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.
“I’m recently divorced. It’s only been four months,” I explained.
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded indifferently.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Markman.” I echoed his formality. “Or do you prefer Danny?”
“Daniel is best.”
“Oh, okay. Everything I read about you online said Danny.”
“It’s a predicament, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically, then pushed his black-rimmed glasses farther up his slanted nose. “Someone gives themself permission to shorten your name, and all of a sudden everyone jumps on the bandwagon.” He shook his head. “Let’s go to my office.”
“Sure.” I nodded and followed him through a metal door, into a small alley-like space cluttered with a handful of desks occupied by people who looked to be a decade younger than I am. Maybe more. I imagined what Jeremy would say if he could see me, with three copies of my dusty résumé in a manila folder I’d poached from Chloe’s room.
“Right in here.” Daniel waited for me to go ahead of him. “It’s not much, but it does the trick.” He walked around his desk and sat down. Then he motioned for me to occupy the chair across from him. “I’d love to be like Zuck. You know, a man of the people and the cubicles, but sometimes I’ve got sensitive issues to deal with and you can’t just air your dirty laundry to the masses.” I assumed by masses he meant his baker’s dozen employees.
“Zuck?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound like an idiot.
“Mark Zuckerberg. Facebook.”
“Of course.” Shit. I knew that.
“Anyway, why don’t you tell me what brings you here today?”
“Well,” I started, when his phone rang.
“Hold that thought. It’s my printer.” He picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. “What’s up, Doug? Absolutely not. No. That won’t work at all. It has to run in this issue.” Daniel swiveled around in his chair toward the only, very small window in his office, which faced a brick wall.
As soon as his back was to me, I took the opportunity to inspect my surroundings. There were stacks of newspapers on every surface, including the floor. Daniel’s desk was covered in an accordion of loose papers and yellow Post-it Notes, along with three empty Starbucks cups stained with the remnants of coffee. And there was one framed photograph of a woman with two young boys around eight or nine years old, if I had to hazard a guess. The woman was petite, with shoulder-length reddish hair, serious brown eyes, and a nose that angled slightly to her left.
“That’s my family.” Daniel, finished with his call, startled me.
“Your wife is beautiful.” I smiled.
“Yes, she is,” he stated blankly. “So, Ms. Bennett…”
“Right, yes.” I cleared my throat and starched my posture. I’ve become one of those people who hunches like an old lady. “I spent more than a decade at ABC News, as you’ll see on my résumé.” I pulled a copy of it from the manila folder and handed it to him. “I’ve also ghostwritten six books.”
“Mm-hmm.” He took the piece of paper and gave it a cursory glance. “Do you have any experience writing for a newspaper?”
“Not specifically. Although I believe my experience will translate.”
“I see.” He smoothed his stiff brown hair with his palm. He waited a beat before leaning forward. “I’m going to be direct with you, Ms. Bennett.”
“Bree, please.”
“I prefer the convention. My father taught me to respect my elders.”
Elders? Was this guy for real? “Okay.”
“I suppose I’m asking myself, why would you want to write for a regional newspaper at this point in your life?” At this point in my life? “As in, are you really committed? Or is this a passing fancy? If it’s the latter, unfortunately, I don’t really have time for that. No offense.”
“No offense taken,” I said.
I suspect that Daniel is the kind of guy who was a nerd in high school, and now that he’s tasted a little bit of power, it’s gone to his head. He was probably bullied, too, because he was just arrogant enough not to keep his mouth shut. Back then, I would have been one of the girls who was way out of his league. But now, he’s the one who holds the cards. Funny how that happens.
“And?”
“And I’m willing to commit,” I declared, even though I was pretty sure I wasn’t. “I want to be part of a team.”
Daniel held up his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The Fairfield Chronicle is a pillar of our community. We’ve been going strong for over forty years. Ever since I took over from my father, we’ve been growing by leaps and bounds. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was a brilliant man, but the paper needed a kick in the ass. It needed to be steered into the modern world. It needed the vision of youth.” He puffed his chest. “My employees didn’t get to be part of this team on day one. They worked very hard to earn that designation. There’s no rest for the weary.”
“I get that.” There was something oddly endearing about Daniel, even though he was patronizing me.
“I’m not sure you do, Ms. Bennett. You can’t truly get it until you’ve experienced it firsthand. I run a tight ship around here.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t just hire anyone off the street.” He leaned back in his chair. “But I like you.” He pointed at me as if I should be flattered. Strangely, I was.
“Thank you.”
“Let’s start with one article. Does that sound feasible?”
“Definitely.”
“You do have email?”
“I do.”