She laughs. “Of course you did.”
“Any chance you have a pair of heels lurking in one of these drawers?”
“I actually do.”
I brighten. “Really?”
“Yes, for emergencies.”
“You have a pair of heels in your desk drawer foremergencies?” I tease.
She sighs. “What would you call your current predicament, Harper?”
I hesitate before glumly admitting, “An emergency.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help you, because I’m pretty sure you’re a size five and I’m a size four.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you had freakishly small feet.”
“Dainty feet,” she corrects. “Maybe someone else here will have a spare pair.”
I turn to address the rest of the team. “Does anyone have a pair of heels I could borrow? Preferably in a size five so they fit?”
My colleagues glance up from their screens and shake their heads apologetically.
“Fashion team, please say we have some in the cupboard yet to be returned from a shoot?”
“Afraid not,” comes the reply. “We packaged and returned everything yesterday.”
Cosmo emerges from his office studying a travel layout and slowly makes his way over to Mimi’s desk wearing a confused expression.
“Mimi, talk me through why anyone would want to go on a… literary trail for an entire week? Is this appealing to our readers?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” she replies confidently. “I think a lot of people would be interested in seeing sights and country houses that are linked to celebrated authors.”
“Hmm,” he says, unconvinced, passing the layout back to her. “All right, keep it in, but make it much shorter and let’s give that leading story to something a bit sexier. A picture of a nice turquoise sea or something, rather than all these fields.”
“I thought it might be nice to mix it up a bit, though. The picture on this page always seems to be a sparkling blue sea. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to try something different?” she says hopefully.
“I think readers dream of escaping to a beach, not the English countryside that a lot of them live in already,” he insists. “Let’s keep to the ocean, please.”
She mutters, “Sure,” through gritted teeth.
He suddenly notices me.
“Oh yes, it’s that cancer research charity ball this evening,” he says, his eyes running down my outfit and landing on my bare feet. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“Not right now, no.”
“I assume you intend to.”
“Eventually, yes. But unfortunately, I’ve only got the one on me.”
“One what?”
“Shoe.”
“You only have one shoe.” He lets out a long, weary sigh. “Why does that not surprise me, Harper?”
