“Then tonight.”
“Tonight,” Derian whispered.
*
“Any news?” Ron asked the instant Emily
entered his office and plopped onto the sofa across from his desk.
She leaned her head back, closed her eyes,
and let out a long breath. “Surgery is over, successful, and she’s in
recovery.”
Ignoring the nearby chair, he sat on the
coffee table across from her, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in
his hands. Leaning even closer, he muttered, “Thank God. At least something
around here is going right.”
She opened her eyes, suddenly more tired than
she could remember being in days. She gazed at him. “How bad is it?”
“I can’t imagine it could get any worse.
Well, I can, but I don’t want to.” Shuddering, he glanced toward the door as if
checking that no one was listening. “Donatella has been cloistered behind
closed doors all morning, but every now and then edicts emerge via email. She’s
already terminated four pending approvals and cut Jeremy’s marketing budget by
thirty percent.”
“That will gut our summer title promotions,”
Emily said. “We’ve got co-op agreements with publishers for author tours. We
have to have the funds to cover those.”
“Who’s going to tell her that?”
“I guess that would be me.” Emily rubbed her
eyes. “God, this is terrible. How’s everybody holding up?”
“Everybody’s still pretty much in shock. But
if this goes on—”
“It won’t,” Emily said emphatically. She
needed to stem the decline in morale right now. “Henrietta will be well enough
to delegate responsibility in a few days, and whomever she puts in charge—”
“What are you talking about? That will be
you, of course.”
Emily wasn’t so sure, especially with
Donatella already in residence. If her visa status remained uncertain, she
might even be seen as expendable. The thought was paralyzing, and she forced it
into a dark corner of her mind. She had to deal with what was actually
happening, not what might happen. Still, with the exact timing of Henrietta’s
return uncertain, she had to consider the long term. “Bill might be a better
choice.”
“No way,” Ron said. “I like Bill, you know
that, but he’s terrible at delegating, plus he’s—” He paused as if searching
for a diplomatic term. “He’s got tunnel vision in terms of the marketplace. If
it were up to him, the only thing we’d ever represent would be best-seller
potentials, and that’s not us!”
Emily couldn’t argue. Bill would probably be
one of the few agents who agreed with Donatella’s assessment as to what kind of
titles they should carry. “Right now, none of that matters. We’re going to have
to deal with Donatella.”