The next day, Regan had a meeting with Roger, her editor, first thing in the morning. She had one review left to deliver on the mystery series she’d been working on for the last month, and it was time to begin brainstorming about her next series. Roger was big on running reviews of books that were in some way connected. For example, she had reviewed three cookbooks in a row, then moved on to five legal dramas. Next were four medical thrillers, and her last series before the mysteries was a group of three celebrity biographies. What the books were, made absolutely no difference to Regan—fiction, non-fiction, good, bad or indifferent. All that mattered was that the Trib still paid her to read books and write reviews. As long as that was still true, all was right in her world.
She tapped on Roger’s door and saw him wave her in. Which made her laugh, as it always did. The point of having an office was to provide privacy, right? The ability to get away from everyone else and not be seen? So, how useful was a glass-encased office situated in the very center of a hustle-bustle-filled newsroom? He sat at his desk and simply looked through the walls or his transparent door, and saw everything that was going on out on the floor. And conversely, everyone out here could see him.
Whatever. It was just one of the mysteries of the world that Regan would never solve.
She pushed into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Whatcha got?”
Regan stifled another giggle. Roger’s greeting was always the same. He never had much time, always had each moment double- or triple-booked and needed to get to the bottom line. Regan hurried to the chair in front of his desk and pulled out her notepad, where she’d jotted down some ideas.
“Well, the holiday seasons are quickly approaching. Thanksgiving is next week, of course, Christmas a month away, and Hanukkah in between there. How about I do some sort of holiday series? A little nonfiction—decorating, cooking, and so forth—and then a few fiction books with a holiday theme. Several bestselling authors have branched out and done Christmas books lately—I could do a series of those, as the holiday gets closer.”
Regan took a breath, about to move on to a few more ideas she’d brainstormed when Roger made one of his contemplative sounds, “Hmmmm.” She stopped, her mouth still open. She’d worked for him long enough to know that something she’d said had hit a mark and his hyper-speed brain needed a moment to work it out.
“Christmas. Christ. The birth of Jesus.”
Regan squinted at him. “Yes …” What was he getting at?
“Christianity. You know, Christianity is making a comeback. It’s big business these days.” Roger pointed his pen at her and tugged on his left ear with his other hand.
“W-what …?” She wasn’t following him yet. But give her a minute and she probably would.
“What was that huge series of books about the apocalypse and people being pulled out of thin air to go to heaven?”
“Oh, yes. I reviewed a few of them when they first came out.” Okay, now they were getting somewhere. She was starting to see where he was going.
He closed his eyes and let his head drop back as he continued conceptualizing. His Adam’s apple popped out of the top of his button-down shirt and bounced when he talked. “And how about those collections of essays that make people feel good …?”
“The Chicken Soup books,” Regan provided.
“Yes, it’s big. People want to feel good. They want to have meaning in their lives. They want to know what comes next. Now, tie that into Christmas, and we’ve got our next series to review, you know?”
“Okay, so, books about Jesus …” Regan grabbed her pen and started jotting again.
“But with a Christmas flair—uh, angels, stars, miracles, what else?” He made eye contact with Regan and a circular motion with his hand and Regan raced to keep up.
“Christmas miracles—healing, saved lives, yes, yes, Roger. I know what you’re after. I’ll start on it right away.”
“Okay, good.” Roger shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes and straightened up in his chair again. “I got another meeting.”
Regan stood and left the office, leaning against the door on the other side with a deep breath. The whole session had taken three minutes or less, but she now had her series for the next month.