Free Emily & Einstein by Linda Francis Lee

Nate stopped to talk to Victoria Wentworth, another senior editor at Caldecote. Like me, Victoria was in her early thirties. She had pale white skin, long red hair, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that tricked you into thinking she was as sweet as she looked.
    Even though the president had taken me under his wing when I first signed on at Caldecote, until a year ago I had technically worked for Victoria. We only had one book left that we had worked on together—though together hardly covered it. While Victoria had officially bought the novel, I found Ruth’s Intention in Victoria’s slush pile of unagented submissions. From the first sentences of Ruth, which so beautifully brought to life the small heroic acts of a young mother determined to save her son, I had known it was a book that should be published.
    Victoria had never been one to take advice, least of all from me. But I waited for just the right moment to pitch the idea, assuring her that she wouldn’t have to do any of the work. She debated, but eventually gave in.
    “Fine, work up an offer, then I’ll get it approved and make the call,” she had said. “But after that, don’t come crawling to me for help.”
    While anyone with half a brain steered clear of her, Victoria dazzled our publisher. For once, with several e-mails from the man sitting unanswered in my in-box, this served me well. While Nate was preoccupied with Victoria, it gave me a chance to dash for the elevators and head out for lunch. He might see me, but he wouldn’t be able to recover his wits fast enough to stop me and ask his questions in person.
    After signing out of e-mail, I made it past Nate. He sort of jerked in surprise when he saw me, his smile starting to straighten. “Come on,” I muttered under my breath. I might have thrown myself into work, but I was smart enough to know that my brain didn’t have the ability to sort through problems, argue my point, or defend any position. “You can make it.” The exit was in sight, only a couple of feet to the security doors.
    “Emily!” he called out. “A minute, please.”
    For a second, I debated the wisdom of pretending I hadn’t heard. That seeming ill-advised, I stopped, exhaled.
    “I haven’t heard back from you regarding any advance blurbs or reviews you’ve gotten for Ruth’s Intention, ” he said.
    “Yes, Emily,” Victoria added. “How’s the book going?”
    I rummaged around for a smile, only managed a grimace, and said, “I’ve gotten several advance quotes, all raves.”
    “Really?” Nate said. “Then why haven’t you let the sales team know about them? Orders are extremely low.”
    Victoria looked at our boss with the sort of professional concern she must have practiced in front of the mirror. “Unfortunately, the orders are low because not everyone is raving . I told Emily she never should have bought it.”
    No one could blame her for distancing herself from a project that wasn’t going well, especially when it wasn’t her idea to take it on. But since the day I was promoted to senior editor, Victoria had seemed determined to see me take a fall.
    “Victoria.” The word sounded strange in my head. “One person in sales read it and loved it. The low orders have nothing to do with what people are or are not saying. The month is jammed with other titles that are getting support. If we could reallocate some money to—”
    Nate cut me off. “Get more early blurbs. Tell the author to start a blog. Become someone who Tweets. Something, anything—short of spending money—to get attention.”
    Victoria gave me one of those fake concerned smiles, then followed him down the hall.
    As soon as I made it to the elevator, my good friend Birdie Baleau came up beside me.
    “Hey you,” she said. “How’s it going?”
    Birdie was about my height, filled with energy, and close to my age, though she was only an assistant. Everyone knew she was from Texas—it was hard not to know given