“I know you can.” Beman straightened his already rod-like back. “You’ll make a great associate editor to Lisa. We’ll have her transitioned into Diane’s position by the end of the month.”
Associateeditor. A step up from assistant, but not the giant leap I’d just psyched myself up for by any means. I rested my coffee in my lap, the tops of my thighs warming like my face. “Oh. I . . . I thought maybe—”
“You’re welcome. Send Lisa in to see me, please.”
I hesitated. I’d only dared to dream of having the position a few minutes, so my disappointment surprised me. Lisa had worked hard for this, but so had I. Diane had told me many times that unlike Lisa, journalism came naturally to me, and that was why Lisa had to put in extra hours. I should’ve at least been considered for the job.
Plus, there was no way in hell being Lisa’s subordinate would turn out well for me.
“With all due respect,” I said, staying seated, “I’ve worked closely with Diane for a while now. I think it’s only fair to let me interview for her position.”
Mr. Beman eyed me carefully. “As associate editor, Lisa is technically next in line.”
“If the goal is to combat complacency, competition is one way to do that,” I pointed out. “It would force each of us to step up our game.”
“Indeed.” His fingertips drummed the desk. “You believe you’re ready?”
My dad—a businessman to his core—had been drilling the same motto into my head since I was a girl:
“Say yes to anything asked of you, Olivia. Never pass up an opportunity to excel.”
“I’m ready,” I said.
Beman sat forward, his leather seat creaking. “I hadn’t really planned for that, but a little competition in the workplace never hurt anyone.” I followed his gaze to a pile of past issues at the edge of his desk. He picked up the top magazine with a cover I recognized from last spring and read the headline. “‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes.’ Our most popular issue of the year, and it’s coming up. It’s got potential to cover a good chunk of our annual ad quota.”
“Diane and I already started the interview process.” I shifted in my seat. “However . . .”
“Go on.”
“The selection is largely underwhelming. If I were in charge, I’d throw it out and start over.”
He arched an eyebrow. “With the issue coming up so soon?”
I nodded. “I can handle it. We need fresh faces on the pages.”
“Unlike that slimy promoter Lester Cartwright, who’s been featured multiple times,” he said, “or Diane’s freeloading cousin she snuck in at the final hour last year.”
“Exactly. Consider them—and everyone else who’s been featured before—yesterday’s news,” I said, even though we hadn’t ever published the list without overlap. I had no idea how we’d go about finding fifty new bachelors and bachelorettes in a matter of weeks, only that it could be the leg up I needed.
“Work with Lisa on the article, along with whatever other assignments Diane had coming up,” he said. “You two can use Diane’s office when necessary. I’ll decide who I’d like to promote after the issue hits.”
I nodded and stood to shake his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
While moving a few items into Diane’s office, Lisa appeared in the doorway after her meeting with Beman, her arms crossed. “Already taking over, I see,” she said.
“They’re things we can both use,” I said, showing her a stapler. “Youdosometimes need to fasten two or more papers together, don’t you?”
“Very funny.”
“So let’s have a brainstorm session, just the two of us, and go over what needs to be done. Since I normally do the grunt work for these issues, I’ve got some ideas.”
“Hmm.” Lisa pursed her lips. “I’ll see if I can squeeze you in this afternoon.”
I gave her a tight smile, but she was already rolling her eyes on her way out the door.
I finished my coffee and headed across the office to the intern station, a room stuffed between the Samples closet full of swag and Conference Room A. Only one girl sat at a computer, her short blonde bob bouncing as she typed furiously.
“Are you Serena?” I asked.
