Page 44 of No Time for Traditions

“Thank you.” Cassandra removed her glasses and looked Brittany in the eye. “By the way, I was thinking of starting a division for Southern fiction. That seems to be hot right now. I don’t know the first thing about that genre. Would you mind heading up the acquisitions on that?”

Brittany nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Cassandra gave her usual pressed-lips half-smile.

Brittany turned and left, closing the door behind her. How ironic. Brittany wrote Southern fiction, and Cassandra all of a sudden decided she wanted to start publishing the genre.

No sooner had Brittany opened her work email back at her desk, than a message popped up from Cassandra. She’d included a list of popular Southern fiction novels. This was to give Brittany an idea of what to look for when seeking writers or going through queries.

Queries. Brittany drummed her hands on her desk and stood. That one word gave her an idea. But did she dare? Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose and paced behind her desk. Normally, she wouldn’t take such a chance. But Greg would. Brittany rolled her eyes. He’d do something this sneaky, too.

“What the heck.” Brittany threw up her hands and sat back in her chair. The beauty of doing something in secret was that she couldn’t get in trouble. Unless, of course, she got caught. But if everything turned out the way she hoped, she’d be more than happy to confess.

Brittany pulled up the folder on her laptop labeled “Home for Christmas,” the title she’d chosen as the working title for her novel. Having read through the five chapters she’d written several times, Brittany felt confident they were ready to send into the publishing world. However, sending the query letter to Cassandra had never been her intention. Yet with all the publishers in New York and elsewhere, Brittany respected their company best. She appreciated Cassandra’s keen eye for detail and tireless work ethic to make every book its best. That’s why she’d hoped to write for her one day. And maybe, just maybe, hiding behind an email could make that dream a reality.

Brittany opened her query letter and changed the addressee from Cassandra to herself. Then, she deleted her name from the bottom, ending with simply, “Thank you for your time.” Now, she needed a way to make this look like someone other than herself sent it.

Brittany scrolled through her phone, searching for someone who Cassandra wouldn’t know. She thought of Scott, but remembered he had “Barnes” in his email. It couldn’t have her name. Hmm . . .

Alice.

After two rings, Alice answered. Brittany relaxed, knowing that meant she wasn’t working.

“Alice, can you do me a favor?”

Ten minutes later, Brittany had her own anonymous query letter along with the first five chapters of her book sitting in her work email inbox with the word “query” in the subject line. One more step, and her plan would be complete. Brittany opened the email from Alice to forward it to Cassandra. She wrote a message thanking Cassandra again for the samples of the Southern fiction books. She then mentioned that someone had sent her the attached query about a book set in Alabama that seemed to line up well with the comp titles. And to avoid any potential suspicions, Brittany set the email to send at lunchtime the following day. This would make it look like she’d had time to read over the query and consider it.

Once she scheduled the email, Brittany leaned back and stared at her computer. She’d done it... sort of.

Brittany closed the browser window and opened a client’s book she needed to proof. After tomorrow, she might have a real shot at seeing her own novel come to life. But today, her job was to make that happen for others.

* * *

Brittany thumbedthrough the dresses in her closet. After considering a black one and then a red one, she decided on purple. It was her favorite color, and she loved the velvet material. Brittany touched up her hair and makeup and put on dangly earrings and black heels. If only she felt like she looked.

The last thing she wanted to do was go out and mingle. She wasn’t a big socialite to begin with, and her nerves were shot after worrying about the email she’d scheduled to send the next day. Still, she’d promised her friends she’d go. Most everyone would be back in town, and they planned on dressing up for New Year’s Eve.

Brittany snuggled into her thickest dress coat and grabbed her handbag before heading out the door.

“Wow, Brit. You look beautiful.”

She turned to see Alice coming in from work. “Thanks.” Brittany smiled. “Hey, do you want to come with me? The No Brides Club is celebrating New Year’s tonight.”

“Next time, I promise. I’m going to change and meet Kara at the movies.”

“Deal. Have fun, and Happy New Year if I don’t see you before tomorrow.”

Alice smiled. “You, too, Brit.”

Brittany buttoned up her coat and slipped on her gloves as she waited for the elevator. It opened to a couple making out. She rolled her eyes and took the stairs. Her shoes weren’t particularly comfortable, but walking several flights of stairs was more comfortable than watching that PDA. At least the walk to Briarwood Tavern wasn’t long at all.

The place was more packed than usual tonight. No doubt because of New Year’s. Some of the girls had wanted to venture to Times Square or go dancing. But most wanted to stick with the Tavern since the suspicion was that however you rang in the New Year dictated how your year would go. And since they’d all made a pact to focus on their careers, what better way to start the year than with the No Brides Club? Some of the original members, even those who’d since married, promised to drop by for a while.

Any other time, Brittany would be more than happy to have dinner with her friends. But even among some of her best friends, she still felt lonely. Brittany listened to all of the girls talk about their Christmases. Most had spent at least Christmas Day with family, whether in New York or out of town. She smiled as they took turns giving all the details about the holiday and what went well and what didn’t. It wasn’t until someone asked about her Christmas that Brittany froze.

Her body tensed, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She took a sip of her drink, trying to both stall and will her vocal cords to work. At last, Brittany managed a response.

“It was good. Excuse me just a minute.” Brittany pushed back her leather chair and headed toward the ladies’ room. She swung open the door and sat on the velvet settee in front of her.

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