Free Second Chances by Leigh Brown, Victoria Corliss Page A

this as a team.”
    “Fine by me.” Pashmina’s vulnerability was touching. One more reason she was growing so fond of her.
    “Good, then let’s get to work. I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me.”
    Taking another sip of soda Amelia contemplated her next step. This was the moment she’d been dreading, the moment she dared to challenge the Grand Dame herself. She’d been so excited to read the famous author’s manuscript, feeling a little thrill each time she turned a page so crisp and smooth--- she was editing Pashmina Papadakis’ book!—she didn’t even notice the difference, at first. But several pages in, after her initial excitement had tempered and she was in full force editor mode, it was obvious. This new book wasn’t like all the rest. It was dark, dangerous, and violent, a far cry from the lighthearted fun of a traditional Papadakis mystery.
    Totally thrown, it took a while for her to adjust to the new style and even then she wasn’t sure what to think. Sure, she liked it but it was more than that, something was missing and that something was Pashmina. A random thought crossed her mind; did Pashmina really write it? She hated herself for even thinking something so improbable. But not impossible. Didn’t Stuart say Pashmina had asked for an extension of her deadline? She’d been struck with severe writer’s block. But then at the last minute, she’d delivered on schedule and Amelia, the most competent editor available had earned the job.
    Lucky her or maybe not since she now had the dubious task of figuring out if the manuscript was really Pashmina’s. There was no way around it. Before they went any further the question had to be asked. Resigned, Amelia got right to the point. “Actually, I only have one question,” she paused, “but it’s a doozie.”
    Pashmina laughed. “Sounds ominous; go ahead, shoot.”
    “Well, the story is good but not what I expected,” she said choosing her words carefully. “It’s so different from anything else you’ve done that I’m not quite sure what to make of it.” Pashmina sat poised and calm. With a nervous laugh, Amelia summoned the courage to continue. “Is this manuscript even yours?”
    Pashmina considered her answer carefully, silently batting it about like an inflated beach ball. Was the book hers? Yes, in every way but one. She’d sacrificed everything for it, she’d earned it. But she didn’t write it, it was more like a gift, an opportunity to shed the pain and despair she’d been in since seeing George.
    For months afterwards she’d been in a funk, reliving their fateful meeting over and over again, wondering how her life had gone so off course and wishing desperately it had been different. But it wasn’t. George had seen to that, betraying her as she’d betrayed Harry, in the end neither one of them getting what they wanted. And then there was the baby, sweet and precious, the only innocent in the whole affair. If any good came out of this mess it was the beautiful child lost to her.
    Even now it was hard to think about and she blamed George for that as well though the guilt and shame of her own actions haunted her too; mostly at night when her dreams took her places her waking mind dared not go. She imagined what the baby would look like now, no longer the tiny infant she’d held for an instant but an adult, fully grown. She imagined her child happy, the type of person who made others happy just by being around them, and good. Lord let them be a good person she thought, a person of character, not like her and George.
    But the evening bliss always dissipated at first light and in the morning she’d wake up, tears dried and sticky on her face, her heart heavy in her chest. Pashmina knew she couldn’t go on like this any longer. She had to restore balance to her life, put the past behind her and though he didn’t know it yet, George was going to help her do it. In a million years she’d never forgive him for all that