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Despite my resolve to follow Liz’s advice, I made an effort to look good for my dinner with Kit. Not too sexy or glamorous, just good. Good enough to eat, I thought as I did a twirl in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I had found a navy silk dress I’d bought for a press dinner in Dublin the year before.
With my hair up, a gold cuff on my wrist the only jewellery, and just a touch of make-up, I felt I had struck the right note—fashionable career woman dining with her boss. Simple, classy, and just a tad sexy. I blew myself a kiss, grabbed my purse, and set off for Killybeg Hotel and Spa. I was a little early, but I had arranged to meet Pandora to discuss our weight loss feature. She said she had some ideas to make it spectacular.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the steps, handed the car keys to the valet, and ran into reception, where I found Richard doing the job as receptionist in a blue suit with a brass pin in his lapel that said “Manager.”
“Hi, Richard,” I said, “You look cute.”
His face reddened. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Pandora.”
“She said she’d see you in the library,” Richard replied curtly. “She’s on the phone to her dad in New York, so she’ll be a little late.”
“The library?” I asked.
“Yes.” He pointed down the long gallery. “It’s on the left, beside the dining room.”
I thanked him, walked down the gallery into the library, and was instantly enchanted. This room had not been stripped of its books or contents before the big auction the year before and had been slowly and painstakingly restored to exactly what it would have been like in the early 1800s. The oak panelling and the bookcases had been polished, the oriental carpet cleaned, and the missing books in the collection replenished with identical leather-bound replicas. The muted colours of the carpet and the spines of the books glowed in the soft light, and the room smelled of woodsmoke and old leather. It was the most beautiful room I had even been in.
I padded across the carpet and peered at the books, pulling out Sense and Sensibility just to see which edition it was. The flyleaf said 1887. I sat down in one of the green velvet sofas, flicked the pages, and started to read, amazed at how the words of Jane Austen could still draw me into the story.
I was deeply absorbed in the fate of the Dashwood family when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Pandora. “Hi, Audrey. Enjoying the library?”
“Loving it. I could move in here and read from start to finish. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you. I got an interior designer from London to do it.” She looked at the book. “What’s that you’re reading?”
“Jane Austen. Sense and Sensibility. Have you read it?”
“No. I’m not much of a reader.” Pandora plonked herself down beside me. “But I saw that old version of Pride and Prejudice recently. Colin Firth in the wet shirt was the best thing in it.”
I closed the book. “Not quite my take on that story, but I know what you mean. Anyway, about the feature? I have a dinner appointment in about twenty minutes, so we’d better get started.”
She winked. “I know. With Kit. He booked a quiet table.”
“It’s a working dinner,” I said primly.
She smirked. “Yeah, right. You look really professional in that killer dress.”
I pulled the skirt over my knees. “Thank you.”
“I’m only teasing you. He booked a table for three, so it must be about work, then.”
I blinked. “Three? He didn’t tell me he was inviting someone else.”
“Well, whatever. You’ll find out soon enough.” Pandora pulled some papers from the folder she was holding. “I’ve made up a few main points for our feature.”
“Thanks.” I looked at the notes. “No diets?”
“I don’t believe in diets.” Her eyes were suddenly full of pain. “I’ve been there, you know. Anorexia, bulimia, the lot. I know how you can be totally screwed up by body image and dieting.”
“You do?” I glanced at her full figure.
“You wouldn’t know,” she said hotly. “You didn’t grow up on Park Avenue.”
“No. But I have a feeling—”
“Screw your feelings,” Pandora said harshly. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. It shouldn’t be about diets and body image, it should be about what makes you feel good. And if you feel good, you look good, even if you’re not a size zero.”
“Of course.” I nodded as I read the notes. “I see what you mean. I like this. Not many changes in diet, just cutting down and trying to eat more fruit and veg. Plus exercise every day in some form. It’s simple really, and keeping it simple is the best way.”
“Simple but hard for so many. Not that you’d know, of course.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’ve never had problems with weight. Must be my metabolism or something.”
“You probably don’t reach for chocolate or pizza when you’re down.”
“No. My comfort is reading. I love escaping into a story when things get rough. That’s what I’ve always done, ever since my mother died. I think she must have taught me that.” I shrugged. “I don’t remember. I was only seven.”
Pandora put her hand on mine. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. How hard that must have been.”
I patted her hand. “Thanks. Yes, it was, but I had a great dad. We went through a lot together, but we had each other.” I glanced at the old carriage clock on the mantelpiece. “I’d better go. It’s eight o’clock. Kit and his guest will be expecting me.”
Pandora gathered up her notes. “Okay. We’re nearly done anyway.”
I got up. “Could you get in touch with Mary so she can write all this up? You could come into the office to work out the plan with the editorial team. Tomorrow, perhaps?”
Pandora brightened. “That would be awesome! Thank you, Audrey. I’ll do all I can to help get this feature off the ground.”
“Brilliant. Thanks, Pandora. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’d better get into the dining room now.”
She blew me a kiss. “Have a great evening. And—be careful.”
“I’ll do my best.”
***
Butterflies whirled in my stomach as I made my way to the elegant dining room, where a waiter showed me to a table laid for three at the back of the room. “Mr Montgomery will be here shortly,” he said as he pulled out my chair. “He’s gone to the entrance hall to receive his guest.”
“That’s fine. Thank you.” I sat down, jumping as the waiter snapped a linen napkin the size of a kitchen towel onto my lap. I smiled at him as he lit the candles. I wasn’t used to five-star restaurants. But Kit walking into the dining room, a gorgeous black man in tow, made me forget my discomfort. Both dressed in dark trousers and white shirts open at the neck, they couldn’t be more different. I couldn’t take my eyes off the stranger. He looked like a clone of a young Harry Belafonte. I nearly expected him to burst into some calypso melody at any moment. I watched as he walked with catlike grace behind Kit, his slim hips swivelling slightly as they rounded the last table. They came to a stop in front of me.
“Evening, Audrey,” Kit said and kissed me on the cheek. “May I introduce Geoff Thornton, my managing director?”
I held out my hand to the Harry Belafonte lookalike. “Hello, nice to meet you.”
His smile lit up the whole room as his warm hand gripped mine. “Hello, Audrey. The pleasure is entirely mine, I can assure you.” His strong Scottish accent surprised me. I had been expecting something more Trinidadian.
Kit laughed and pulled out a chair. “Geoff, please sit down and behave yourself. This is a business meeting.”
Still grinning, Geoff sat down. “I know. But a very pleasant one, I have to say. Don’t you think, Audrey?”
I smiled back at him. “Absolutely.”
“Right,” Kit grunted and opened the menu the waiter handed him. “We’ll order and get to business. Let’s not faff around with starters, okay? I know the beef is excellent here, so how about filet mignon with duchess potatoes?”
“Okay,” Geoff and I said in unison as we looked into each other’s eyes.
“A glass of Bordeaux each and a side order of salad,” Kit said to the waiter. “Beef medium rare all around?”
“Rare for me,” I said, tearing myself away from Geoff’s velvet eyes.
“Same here,” he said.
Kit flicked the menu back to the waiter. “That’s it, then. We’ll let you know about anything else later.”
“Very well, sir.” The waiter topped up our water glasses and disappeared.
Kit wiped his brow and glanced out the window. “Very hot today, isn’t it? And those dark clouds rolling in must mean there’s a thunderstorm on the way.”
I took a sip of water. “Yes, that’s what the weather forecast said. Then more heat tomorrow. This has been an amazing summer.” I looked at Geoff. “Is this your first visit to Ireland?”
He nodded. “Yes, but not my last. This is such a beautiful country. Very like Scotland in some ways.”
“I’ve never been to Scotland,” I said. “I’d love to see it someday.”
Geoff smiled. “If you do go, please let me know.”
“I will.”
“Yes, fine,” Kit interrupted. “But let’s get down to business. I asked Geoff to come here so he could explain the details of a very exciting offer we want to make you.”
Confused, I stared at him. “Offer? What kind of offer? I know you hinted at something like that a while back, but I thought you were having me on.... Aren’t we here to discuss the magazine?”
“The magazine? Great work, I have to say,” Geoff stated. “Really good country publication.”
“Yes. Very good effort,” Kit cut in. “I finally had a chance to take a look at it. Very nice.”
“Thanks for the faint praise,” I snipped. “But what’s this meeting all about then, if it’s not about that?”
We were interrupted by two waiters bringing us our order. We were silent while they fussed with plates, wine, salad, and bread. Then Kit picked up his wine glass.
“A toast,” he said. “To our continued collaboration.” He exchanged an odd look of complicity with Geoff and nodded.
As if on cue, Geoff took his glass and held it up, smiling at me. “To a lovely woman who lights up this dark evening with her beauty. Looking forward to working with you.”
I lifted my glass with a feeling of dread. What were they up to? “Okay, thanks. Cheers,” was all I managed. Then I said, “Working with me? What do you mean?”
They looked at each other again. Kit cleared his throat. “Have you heard of The Bluestocking Review?”
I laughed. “Heard of it? It’s only the best literary magazine in Europe. I’ve subscribed to it for years. Love it.”
Kit smiled. “Thought so. The good news is that we’ve just bought it.”
I stared at him. “Really? How exciting. Great move, Kit. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t cheap. But the bad news is that the editor-in-chief, Majella Kastrup, is retiring in August.”
“Oh nooo,” I moaned. “That’s terrible. I love her reviews. She’s one of the best reviewers around.”
Geoff sighed. “Absolutely. But—” he glanced at Kit “—that’s what we wanted to talk to you about. You see,” he continued, “we think you’d be perfect for her job.”
I gasped. “What? Her job? You mean—”
Kit took my hand. “Yes, darling girl. We want you to take over as editor-in-chief of The Bluestocking Review. That’s the offer we were talking about.”
My head was spinning. Editor-in-chief of The Bluestocking Review? Me? Was I dreaming? I felt like pinching myself. An offer every journalist would dream of. It would mean— “What exactly will this mean?” I asked out loud. “I mean, wow, it’s like, I don’t know, landing a Hollywood film deal or something. But maybe I’m dreaming? Please pinch me so I can wake up.”
Kit winked. “Where do you want me to pinch you? You’re not dreaming, but I don’t mind pinching you anyway.”
“But...but,” I stammered. “I’m not sure I’m qualified. What makes you think I am?”
“You have a degree in journalism,” Geoff replied, “and I also believe you have a PhD in English literature from Trinity College?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”
Kit took my hand. “Audrey, you have, in no time at all, turned the failing newspaper here around and also produced a very good magazine. All with just a few people to help you. This speaks volumes about your entrepreneurship and talent as an editor. You’d be perfect for The Bluestocking Review.”
“Gosh,” I said. “Yeah, but—” But what about the paper, I wanted to ask. The Knockmealdown News was very important to me. So were the people working with me to produce it every week. And the magazine? And, oh God, my flat and my new friends. My whole life here in this little town that I loved would be coming to an end. “And my cat,” I said out loud.
“Cat?” Kit stared at me as he was cutting into his steak. “You have a cat? But can’t you bring it to London? Cats live happily in flats in London, you know.”
“Maybe,” I said without conviction.
Geoff picked up his knife and fork. “I know it must have come as a shock, but let’s not waste this delicious meal. Let it sink in, Audrey, and then we’ll talk.”
I poked at the food while they ate, still trying to get my head around what they had just said. I tried to imagine what it would be like to live in London and be the editor of this high-profile literary magazine. I knew it was run by a big staff of very talented women. My whole life seemed suddenly to have been turned upside down. Dad would be over the moon. This is what he’d wanted for me ever since I started college. But how would it feel to leave The Knockmealdown News to someone else?
“I won’t be able to leave straight away,” I said out loud. “I mean we’re still trying to get our circulation up to what it was before the fire. If not, you’re going to close it down, right?”
Kit nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, sweetheart, it doesn’t look good at the moment.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean? I told you about Keatings. There’s a good chance they’ll want to distribute the magazine. And then we’re away.”
Kit shook his head with a glum expression. “I meant to tell you, but it got lost in the other stuff. I just heard from them. Unfortunately, they won’t accept the kind of deal we were offering. They want a bigger discount.”
My jaw dropped. “What? But that’s impossible! We can’t offer them more than 50 percent, otherwise we’d be selling at a loss. Shit. I was counting on them. I can’t believe they would be so greedy.”
Kit shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s business for you. Sorry about that. They said they liked the new magazine and wished you the best of luck.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered and attacked the steak with my knife. I cut off a big chunk and pushed it into my mouth. Even in all my nervousness, I had to admit it was delicious. Suddenly ravenous, I finished what was on my plate while the men continued to talk about The Bluestocking Review and certain changes they would like to make. It all sounded exciting, but my mind was still on The Knockmealdown News and what would happen to it.
“We must make sure we get good spots on national TV,” Geoff said. “I’m sure Audrey would be fantastic on TV.”
“Oh yes,” Kit agreed. “That’s partly why I wanted to offer her the job.”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “But when do you need to know if I’ll accept the offer? Is there a deadline?”
Kit was about to reply but was interrupted by rumbling outside that ended in a loud bang. The curtains billowed in a sudden gust of wind accompanied by the sound of torrential rain. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed as the waiters ran to close the windows and the lights flickered. “That’s some thunderstorm.”
“We need the rain, though,” I said. “But to come back to my question—when do you want my answer?”
There was a curious look in Kit’s eyes. “I thought you might give us your answer right now.”
I shook my head. “I need a little time. It’s a big step. And I need to get someone to take over for me at the newspaper here.”
Kit patted my hand and winked at Geoff. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of everything.”
I looked at him and wondered why his words sent a cold tingle down my spine.