I tried to find you after the bar. Tell me you’re home safely.
Toni
Ignoring a twinge of regret, Toni clicked on a flight change email. She needed to go home, far away from the maddening temptation to see Addie again. A few clicks later, Toni was scheduled to fly home within a few short hours.
She forwarded her itinerary to Emily with a “got to go. Sorry about London.” Anything that made her consider commitment was a thing that meant it was time to run. Her desire to see Addie was not something she could allow to take root.
Then Toni fell asleep dreaming about wonderful what-ifs: What if she sold a book? What if she ran into Addie again somewhere? She honestly wasn’t sure which was more daunting—or exciting.
After a blurry morning, Toni hopped a short flight from Edinburgh to London. She didn’t buy in-flight Wi-Fi and search for more information on Addie Stewart. Instead, Toni had napped briefly in-flight. Currently she was navigating the stygian ring of hell that most people called Heathrow Airport while trying to get to her ringing phone without dropping her coffee.
That was Emily’s ringtone, or Toni would’ve ignored it. “Em?”
“You’re going to want to sit down,” Emily said without preamble as Toni answered.
Toni shifted her phone to the other hand, steered her hand luggage around a family with an assortment of kids, and said, “Airport. No sitting.”
“Do you have a minute?”
“Yes, headed to the gate.” Toni tried to keep her voice light, no despair, no panic. No breathlessness—despite the inability of people in airports to navigate with any modicum of common sense. “What’s up?” Toni wasn’t running, per se, but traversing the connection at Heathrow made her feel like she should be. For a nation that seemed to pride itself on being sensible, the Brits hadn’t figured out how to make an airport efficient—or maybe the airport was fine. Maybe itwas the casual meander of the thousands of travelers who all seemed to need to step directly into Toni’s path.
“I read your book on the train to London—”
“Is it awful?” Toni interrupted as she dodged a senior with a cane that she was swinging more like a golf club than a walking aid. “How far did you get?”
“All of it. Damn you, Toni. As a friend I want to tell you to talk to other agents. I want to be nonaggressive, but as an agent,grrr,I want to lock you down and make sure no one else can ever talk to you.” Emily laughed almost awkwardly. “Ilovedthe book. All of it. Even the ridiculous title.”
Toni snorted a laugh. “You’re sweet, Em.The Whitechapel Widowwas a joke title.”
“I am not laughing. I am trying to walk a line between being a selfish agent and giving you sound friend advice. There are more seasoned agents that you could talk to—”
“Nope. I’m not interested in anyone else, Emily. I’m not starting a new career. I don’t want to deal with any of this. I want to give it to you, and if it’s worth anything, you sell it. Get me whatever you can. That’s it.” Toni saw her gate up ahead and picked up speed. “I trust you. You know me and cope with my trust issues and hermit tendencies. Just… sell it if you can.”
When Emily was silent, Toni thought she’d disconnected. “Em? Are you still—”
“When do you board?” Emily asked.
“Now.”
“Do you want to think about this in-flight? Splurge on in-flight Wi-Fi. I can send you some thoughts on the market, editors, film agents. Options. Other agents to at least consider…”
There was an odd tone in her voice, but Toni chalked it up to worry over letting her down, so she said, “I trustyou,Emily Haide. Whatever you can get for the book is cool. I just need realistic time to revise it, hopefully enough so it doesn’t interfere with my job at the university… I mean, if anyone even wants it.”
Emily made a choked laugh sound. “It’ll sell, and if you’re sure…”
“One sec.” Toni showed the gate agent her ticket and passport. Then she joined the masses boarding the cramped flight. “Sorry. Boarding.”
“Do you want to wait and talk first?” Emily asked. “If you do, that’s a valid plan. At the least I need to know if you’ll write a sequel. Selling a two-book is likely, and the London Book Fair is a great time to sell a book with buzz.”
Toni shoved her carry-on overhead, climbed over the aisle seat, and slumped into her middle seat. Quieter now that she was surrounded, she said, “Two books works. You do your magic. Honestly, Em, whatever you finagle is great. I just don’t want to move Mom to a bad place because I can’t afford decent care for her, you know? I was thinking I could sublet or sell my new place, but if you can get something out of the book or out oftwobooks, it’ll buy me time and maybe let me keep my new place, which really is the best thing I can hope for, right?”
Emily sighed. “I better not hear you telling me you regret this later, Toni. I swear—”
“No regrets.” Toni lowered her voice. “Do what you can, and I’ll see if there’s anything else I can come up with. It’s this… or juggling jobs and roommates.”
“Hang in there. I think this may work out a lot better than you think it will.” Emily sounded surer now, confident, and that did a lot to ease Toni’s nerves. Then she added, “Safe flight. I’ll call you on the other side.”
Toni disconnected with a sliver of hope that seemed almost too dear to be real. Someone actually liked the weird middle-of-the-night thing she’d written. Maybe it was just one friend, but that friend was an agent. Emily knew the market and she actually seemed to think there was a publisher out there who might like it enough to wanttwobooks. If Em’s math was right, and there was no reason to think it wasn’t, that could be thirty thousand dollars.
