Page 51 of No Time for Traditions

“Don’t thank me, thank whomever sent the manuscript.”

Brittany smiled, feeling her cheeks blush.

Cassandra continued. “I didn’t see a signature, but I assume you could email them back.”

“Yes.”

Cassandra sat back down and leaned over her desk, examining Brittany. “Why are your eyes red?”

Brittany cleared her throat. “I’ve had a restless weekend.”

Cassandra frowned. “Then get some coffee.”

“Done.” Brittany nodded, now a little self-conscious about her appearance.

“Then, after you’re caffeinated, try to get in touch with this writer. I’d like to meet her—or him—in person. Though I suspect . . .” Cassandra paused to put on her glasses and look at her computer screen. “... [email protected] is a woman.”

Brittany stared down at her hands and fidgeted with the pleat in her pants.

“Brittany?”

Brittany slowly lifted her head to face Cassandra. She closed her eyes, and tears she didn’t know had formed slid down her face.

“Good heavens, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be thrilled.”

Brittany bit her bottom lip to steady its shaking. She now knew the reason for the disconnect when she’d opened the door downstairs. She didn’t belong here.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just, you said you wanted to meet the author.”

“Yes, very much.” Cassandra clasped her hands together on her desk and stared at Brittany with bewilderment.

“What if I told you that you already have?”

Cassandra laughed. “That would be even better.”

“Would it?”

“I can’t imagine why not.”

Brittany blinked, releasing another set of tears. “What if I told you she already works for you?”

Cassandra took off her glasses and pursed her lips. Brittany could tell she was intrigued but hadn’t yet figured it out.

“And she’s new to acquisitions?” Brittany’s words came out more as a question than a statement, but the way Cassandra’s eyes widened, it was clear she got the message.

“I see.” Cassandra sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Then who is Pilates Princess? Or did you use a fake email?”

“She’s my neighbor. I used her email to send it to myself so that I could forward it to you.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s the only way you would read what I wrote.”

“I see.” Cassandra looked back at her computer screen and frowned.

“Please don’t be mad. I had to know for sure. And I really wanted your unbiased opinion.” Brittany studied Cassandra’s face for some clue as to what she might be thinking.

“Brittany.” Cassandra turned from her computer and met Brittany’s stare. “I know you’re a good writer. I’ve known it for some time.”

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