“You think you can make the deadline?”
“I don’t know. It depends on how my wrists hold up.”
Alex nodded. “I’ll tell Kristina to push it back a little for health reasons. The publisher won’t mind. They can speed things up on their end.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
He shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
There was more that ought to be said. Neither of them said it.
After a short, awkward silence, Anna cleared her throat. “What time is your flight?”
“Not until five. I have some time to kill.”
“You want to do some baking?”
“Are we having another impromptu bakeoff?”
Anna smiled. “No, I was just thinking those brownies you made looked really good. I wouldn’t mind learning how it’s done. And in exchange I can make you my red velvet cheesecake cupcakes for the road.”
Alex looked at her as if he couldn’t figure out what angle she was playing now, but in the end relented. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
So they baked.
It turned out keeping busy really was good for the soul. Anna wrote down Alex’s recipe and showed him how to make her cupcakes. The kitchen wasn’t quite big enough for all the bowls and pots they both needed to use at the same time, but instead of awkwardly bumping into each other, they laughed and danced.
Anna was covered with flour and Alex’s shirt was smeared with brownie mix which looked like a diaper change gone wrong by the time they were done. With an hour to spare, they kicked up their heels in the living room and sampled each other’s baking creations.
“Okay, highest maintenance client ever.”
“Hmm, yeah,” Alex said around a bite. “Made me take her cats to the groomer three times a week. All six of them. And cook them five-star French cuisine.”
Anna laughed.
“Your turn. Worst editor ever.”
Anna groaned. “He who shall not be named. He insisted on going over his notes with me over the phone. He had this whiny, nasaly voice and a valley girl accent and said stuff like, Ohmygod, I loved that part.” Her voice went supersonic high on love, just like his used to do. “All he ever did was kiss my ass. Useless as an editor.”
Alex groaned. “Is that why you stopped taking phone calls?”
“Yep. My phone is set to silent and I don’t ever pick up. If I want to talk to someone I call them.”
“Good to know.”
The sound of an approaching car stabbed their good mood through the gut. Alex’s taxi was coming to take him to the airport.
“I guess that’s my cue.”
Anna stood and walked him to the door. “You got all your chargers and stuff?”
“Yeah. And I put all your books back on the shelves. They really are good, you know.”
She nodded. “Thanks. I want you to know you helped me out a lot in two weeks. I don’t think I could have written this if you hadn’t come along.”
He grinned crookedly. “That truly never gets old.”
Anna laughed and shoved playfully at his shoulder.
Alex caught her hand and held on. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Are you?” she returned.
He thought about it a moment, then smiled and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be seeing you, Anna Nym.” He tipped an imaginary hat, picked up his suitcase and jacket, and got in the taxi, driving off to a Jimmy Durante song playing in her head.
Anna stood on the porch, watching until the taxi disappeared in the trees. She was still there long after the sound of the engine faded into silence and the day began to cool into night. When a breeze made her shiver she retreated inside and got a fire going.
A brownie in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she sat at her writing desk and powered up her computer. With the deadline coming up fast and ideas rolling around in her head, Anna had plenty to say once the blank page of a word processor opened up, but her book had sat untouched for months. One more night wouldn’t hurt.
Instead of picking up the chapter she’d left unfinished, she opened a new file, titled it, and typed the first sentence of her eighth series novel:
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, a wise man once said, but more important by far is the heart which can only beat when it is set free.
The End
About A Calliope
A CALLIOPE is the pen name Alianne Donnelly used to publish a (very) few of her choice early works. Of the multitude of writings still gathering dust in an old shoebox at the back of her closet, ranging in length from flash fiction to full novels, only a small handful were judged worthy of seeing the light of day years after their creation, and because of this, the alter ego did not remain active for very long. However, that dusty shoebox is still there in the closet, so the possibility still exists that more of its contents might eventually get edited/rewritten and published. Maybe. If there’s time… To find out more about Alianne’s more official books and current works in progress, visit her website at AlianneDonnelly.com.
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