Worth the Risk(3)

“Great,” I mutter through my forced smile. I can already see her finding ways to make my life hell.

“It will be. She can teach you a lot, but your main focus will be to elevate the magazine’s online component. There are a million different and innovative ways to capture new readers and improve advertising. It’s your job to figure out what that way is and how to implement it. Whatever you do, I need to see an increase.”

I think of the offices for Modern Family in Sunnyville, the town where I grew up. I think of leaving my very sleek apartment in my high-rise overlooking downtown San Francisco. I think of my best friend, Zoey, and having to leave her after everything that just happened. Sure, she says she’s fine now. Of course, she’ll say it again when I tell her I have to leave. But hell if I’m not going to worry about her or that prick she swears she’ll never see again while I’m gone.

And I think of having to leave it all behind for a while to satisfy my dad with the lesson he is trying to teach me.

My resolve wavers. “I know nothing about—”

“And before you answer, I should preface this offer by saying it isn’t an automatic. You don’t do this and then step into the editor’s shoes at Haute. Veronica will be retiring at the end of next year. That will give you six months to turn Modern Family around and then another six months to a year to learn what you need to do the job. Then and only then—with her blessing—will I promote you to your dream position.”

“So, if I can prove myself to you and Veronica, the position is mine, correct?

“Correct.”

“Should I assume that you’re expecting me to leave soon?”

His tight smile already has me canceling my plans to head to Santa Barbara at the end of the month. The trip I’ve looked forward to for weeks. “Of course. Time is money.” He glances at his calendar and then back to me. “Take your trip with your friends, but know this . . . you will be working on it every day until then from here on out, and the day after you return, you will be in Sunnyville, hands-on. You should be able to accomplish plenty in the month, so when you arrive there, you can hit the ground running.”

“Okay.” I fight the sudden swell of tears that burn. Are they because I know he’s showing me a glimpse of mercy now only to be merciless on me later? Or is it because he’s my dad and I hate that I’ve let him down?

“I’m not messing around here, Sid.”

“I know.” The words barely come out.

“And don’t expect a warm welcome.” I swear amusement flashes through the blue of his eyes. “They’ll think you’re there to spy on them and report back to me. They’re already on edge over rumors about the magazine being yanked and their jobs taken away.”

“Lovely.” And then a thought hits. “What about the current staff? Isn’t there someone there already qualified? Won’t they be mad at me for taking a position from them?”

“That will be your first test in management. How to handle people with kindness and tact and earn their respect.”

“Oh.” Excitement flutters in my belly. The kind that flushes across your skin and puts thoughts in your head that you want to hope are real but fear aren’t.

“Sid?”

I snap my eyes up to meet my father’s and realize he’s looking for a response.

“Deal.”

“No hesitation? No, ‘no, I don’t want to move from the city’? No, ‘oh my God, there are no malls in Sunnyville’?”

Don’t, he’s just being a jerk.

“No hesitation.”

“Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.”





“Has it really been a whole month since I’ve seen you?”

Memories of martinis by the poolside and dancing till closing time in Santa Barbara flicker and fade into a subtle homesickness. “Five weeks actually.”

“Ugh. It feels like forever.”

“That’s only because you’ve been off playing in Seattle with your newest flavor of the month for the past few weeks.”

“I like this flavor.” She laughs that coquettish sound of hers that tells me she’s having way too much fun while I’ve been here busting my ass to no end. “So, how’s the new place?”

The new place is a tiny cottage I rented on the outskirts of Sunnyville. It’s cozy and homey and nothing like the sleek lines and rich colors of my condo in San Francisco.

“It’s . . .”

“It isn’t you,” Zoey says through her laugh, most likely from where she’s overlooking the view of the city I’ve temporarily left behind.

“No, it definitely is not me.” Not the uneven floorboards that creek when I walk on them. Not the hot water that lasts maybe a whole five minutes before turning bone-chillingly cold. Not the nosy neighbors who I’ve found peering over the top of the backyard fence to see what I’m up to. And definitely not the dog that barks incessantly at all hours of the night.

“Wine country and the headquarters for a magazine on motherhood seem serendipitous to me.”

“Either that or a perfect complement. Maybe all those mommies need wine after a long day with the kid.” I laugh at her logic that rings true. “Regardless, you left me to go back to your old stomping grounds.”