The Other Black Girl(42)
Hazel looked concerned. “Last night. I ran into her at the end of the day yesterday and I remembered how you told me it’s good for me to ask other editors what they’re reading, get to know their tastes, that kind of thing. I did that. Then she offered to send me a book that she got in yesterday afternoon. I thought that meant she’d send it today, but she sent it to me at eleven p.m. last night. Is she one of those editors who works twenty-four seven and on vacations, too? If so, I feel bad for her kids.”
Nella ignored the part of Hazel’s soliloquy that worried about Vera’s kids, who were nonexistent, and zeroed in on the first part instead. “Yesterday afternoon” could mean anything, and if Vera had been shut in meetings all day, which wasn’t atypical for her, Nella could see this slip being utterly insignificant. But she’d seen Vera multiple times, had spent at least one accumulative hour with her by the time she’d left the office for the day.
“Nella?” Hazel clicked Nella’s cubicle wall with her pinky nail. “You okay?”
“Hm? Yeah. I just think she forgot to send that to me.” Nella looked away from Hazel and moved her mouse to wake her computer. Once her screen lit up again, she found the strength to face Hazel once more and caught her staring off, a faraway, indiscernible look in her eyes. After a second or two, she snapped her eyes back on Nella.
“Sorry. I was just thinking… she sends you everything her authors write?”
“Yep.”
“Well… my first thought… and I could be wrong, but I can’t help but think that she’s still holding a grudge against you for that Colin thing.”
“The thought crossed my mind, but—”
“And it’s maybe not even a conscious grudge. Right? That would explain why she didn’t forward the book to you. She’s still feeling a way and she doesn’t even realize—”
“I haven’t checked my email since I left the office yesterday. I bet it’s in there and I just haven’t seen it.”
Another lie. In reality, Nella checked her email compulsively. She had looked at her email on her way home from McKinley’s, around midnight—just to see if the person who’d left her the note had also contacted her by email, too.
“Got it. In that case, I’m sure it’s in there! I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Me? Oh—I’m not worried.”
Nella hadn’t intended for her own voice to have such an edge to it, especially when Hazel had been so hopeful and reassuring. She didn’t feel much like apologizing, though. Not now, and not when forty-five minutes passed without her cube neighbor speaking another word.
By then, the air had clicked on and other Wagner employees were finally starting to trickle in by ones and twos, swishing cups of coffee and grumbling about train delays and asking if you’d seen the latest review on this or that book. Office doors that had been closed for sixteen hours were creaking open; desk phones were whining for attention; the bassline of “Stand Back,” Bridget’s favorite morning song, could be heard near and far. The entire floor seemed more charged and far less scary than it had felt when Nella first arrived.
Vera ambled in at her usual time, her light blue raincoat speckled with raindrops, hood still pulled tightly over her hair. “Oh, great, you’re here before me!” she exclaimed, looking at Nella with such astonishment that she wondered if she’d overlooked another smear of drool on her face.
But Nella didn’t let the backhanded greeting get to her. “Good morning, Ver. Is it raining out now? It looked like it might a few hours ago.”
“It’s been raining the last hour or so, I think. Pretty nasty out.”
“Yikes. That stinks. Oh, by the way—Gretchen called this morning, around eight.”
Vera paused at her door. “My goodness. So early! What could be that important that an agent has to call that early?”
“She was calling to ask about the signing payment for—”
“For crying out loud, we just bought that book last week. Doesn’t she have anything else to worry about? Like why Mickey’s book isn’t selling with people in the forty-to-fifty bracket?” With a dismissive flourish of her hand, she turned the doorknob to her office. “These agents! I swear. I know you meant well, but you know you don’t have to answer the phone that early. Next time, just ignore it, okay?”
“You got it,” Nella called, even though her boss was now in her office and therefore out of earshot. She chuckled in spite of herself. Now, this was the Vera she had grown to know and love. Perhaps their relationship hadn’t been ruined, and Vera was trying to keep Nella free for some other big project.
Pleased and somewhat relieved, Nella strolled over to the kitchen and made herself her second coffee of the day. As she listened to the Keurig burble and groan, she thought about the various ways she might casually ask Vera about the new Leslie Howard. She could lead with it when they first sat down for their usual fifteen-minute morning meeting, casually, like it was something she worried she’d forget if she didn’t. Or she could drop some jargon and ask Vera if there was anything she was reading that Nella should “move to the front of her pile.”
She’d decided on the second approach as she made her way back from the kitchen, set on making a pit stop at Vera’s doorway to ask if it was a good time to do their morning catch-up chat. But as she walked by Kimberly’s office, then Maisy’s, something gave her pause. This something was Hazel, who had popped up from her own desk, notepad in hand, determination in her raised shoulders.