Part 9 (1/2)
Caroline started to laugh, expecting Frank to roll his eyes at the mysterious ways of small-town waitresses, but he held up a finger. ”Listen! Isn't that Buddy Holly?”
She c.o.c.ked her head. ”I guess so. I'm not really familiar with that era.”
”Come on.” He slid out of his seat and held out a hand, grinning.
She laughed. ”What, you can't expect me to... You're not...”
”Hurry up, before it's over” he said. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her out of the booth and walked her backward to the jukebox. The diner was almost empty, with only an elderly gentleman at the counter. Holding both her hands, Frank pulled her close, then pushed her back, singing in an attractive alto. It was completely familiar but absurdly foreign at the same time. Had she ever listened to the words before? Some girl would make him cry and how that'd be the day, the day that he died.
She grinned, following his movements as best she could. Her jacket was keeping her from reaching back over her shoulder to grab his hand when he turned her. She quickly slipped it off and draped it over a chair, leaving only her silk tank top. Now they could really dance, moving in perfect rhythm, faster and faster as she felt more comfortable. She couldn't help laughing, the joy of the moment breaking through her reservations.
When the song ended, she was breathless with laughter. Frank pulled her close and kissed her cheek. ”That's the way to do it,” he said.
”To do what?” She couldn't stop smiling. ”I thought we were having lunch and then we ended up over here, jitter-bugging.”
”That was swing. I can teach you some jitter-bug but we better get some food first because it burns about 500 calories an hour and I don't want you to waste away. Your mama would never forgive me.”
Caroline snorted as they settled back in the booth. ”I'm not in any danger of wasting away, believe me. I hardly ever get out to run anymore.”
”When are you moving to Spartainville?”
His question took her by surprise. It was a leap from not getting out for a run and moving to another city. She blinked, searching for something to say.
”I'm sorry. I just a.s.sumed you were moving back here.”
”I'm- I'm working on re-establis.h.i.+ng my professional presence before I make any big decisions.”
Frank laughed, a deep chuckle that made her lips turn up without her permission. ”You're looking for a job.”
”Well, if you want to put it that way, yes.”
He sipped his c.o.ke and said nothing. Caroline felt the seconds tick away. He must think she was a pretty sad example of educated Southern womanhood, stuck at home in the middle of nowhere. She wanted to defend herself, explain about her father's death and her mother's sudden hypochondria, but it seemed inadequate. In fact, it would probably only make her look weaker.
”Caroline, if you don't mind, I'd like to make this more than a social lunch.” His face was serious, eyes dark.
”Okay.” She wasn't sure what he meant but couldn't see the harm in hearing what he had to say.
”My company is growing so rapidly that we're short-staffed in all areas. We're handicapped. There are so many projects we can't accept because we can't produce the work in a reasonable amount of time.” He looked down at his tan, manicured hands. ”I'm desperate. I didn't want to make things complicated between us but I'd like to offer you a job at Vertical Pop.”
Caroline felt her cheeks go hot. Complicated? He very clearly implied that they were on a date, but that he needed to step back and be a professional for the sake of his company. She felt admiration rise up in her.
”And I'd like to consider your offer.”
He laughed out loud, shake his head. ”You're wonderful, you know that?”
She shrugged, smiling. ”If you say so. I'm unemployed, for sure.”
”I think you'll be happy with us at Vertical Pop. We need people like you who're plugged into the entertainment scene.”
Caroline frowned. She didn't see how she could possibly be considered plugged into any sort of scene when most of her time was spent in her own house. ”Frank, you may have gotten the wrong impression. I'm not-”
”I'm sure I didn't” He waved a hand. ”The way you dress, the way you talk. I can tell you're the type of writer we need. These manga books are ma.s.sively popular but the translations they give us are horrible. We need someone to rework them, make them really appeal to the niche audience. Everyone's doing video blogs, setting up kickstarter campaigns and running counter-culture online magazines.”
She fiddled with her napkin. She knew nothing about what 'everyone' was doing. Her journalism degree was losing value faster than a brand new car being driven off the lot. The longer she stayed out of circulation that more obsolete she got. But this probably wasn't the time to explain all of that. Was she trying to talk him out of offering her a job? Who cared if he thought she spent her time watching the Lizzie Bennett Diaries and campaigning for new Veronica Mars episodes instead of making pink lemonade for old ladies? She could catch up. All she needed was a little time to get back in the groove.
”So, these translations come straight from the j.a.panese publisher?”
”Right.” He rubbed his hands together. ”It's complicated. We can get into that more when we've got you officially on board.”
She nodded. There would be time, no hurry. ”I keep forgetting to tell you I met a young artist the other night, at the Werlin's party.”
Frank nodded, looking over her shoulder in a slightly distracted way.
”She's heading off to college, but she'll be studying accounting because she can't afford to major in something that may not pay the bills.”
”Sounds smart.” He was still focused on something behind her.
”Does it? I really felt like it was such a sad way to start her career. I think she should at least minor in art. It's not like it was fifty years ago. Artists can actually support themselves doing what they love.”
”Hmmm. You're right.” His eyes flicked to her face, then back to whatever was near the front door.
She turned, scanning the restaurant. ”Is there-” She broke off at the sight of Lauren Fairfield, who seemed to be in the middle of mouthing a word at Frank. She froze, then her expression settled into something pleasant. Her usual sleek hair was pulled back in a ponytail and curled at the ends. As tall and elegant as ever, her simple turquoise sheath dress was decorated with a patterned scarf tied at the end of her ponytail.
”I think that's Lauren Fairfield, isn't it?” Frank asked. ”That woman who was so defensive about her publis.h.i.+ng contract?”
”It is. I wonder what she's doing over here. I thought she was touring homes in Th.o.r.n.y Hollow this week.” She knew where Lauren had been a few days ago, certainly. She and Brooks had been wandering Badewood together, admiring the glorious mansion.
”Really? Interesting. And don't look now, I think she's heading over.” He said this through his teeth, a smile plastered to his face.
Caroline turned around, wis.h.i.+ng Frank would stand up and great Lauren like a gentleman. She didn't take to Lauren the way she should, but that didn't mean she wanted to be rude.
”h.e.l.lo, there. It seems that Peggy's isn't the big secret it's made out to be.” Her smile was tight, eyes flicking back and forth between them.
”Apparently not. Soon we'll see whole tables of editors in business suits, right?”
Caroline cringed inwardly. These two weren't able to get past their professional differences, but they had a lot in common otherwise. Th.o.r.n.y Hollow was a small place and Southern to the core. In a place where they counted cousins once removed and six times down, these two definitely qualified as home town folk. They should treat each other better than strangers.
Lauren's lips curved up in a slight smile. ”Maybe only one or two at time.” She turned to Caroline, giving her a once-over. ”Is this a business luncheon or should I pretend I didn't see you here?”
She felt her brows rise up in surprise. ”No pretending needed and you're welcome to join us.” But if her mama hadn't raised her right, she might point out the fact Lauren's blatant curiosity was distinctly uninvited.
”No, thank you. I'm just picking up a quick lunch before I get back to proofing the photos from Sat.u.r.day. Brooks was such a gracious host. I was surprised that you weren't there to help.” Lauren's large gray eyes narrowed the tiniest amount.
She took a moment to respond, unsure of why she'd be giving tours of Brooks' family home. Maybe Lauren thought the Ashley home was a sort of annex to Badewood? The idea was laughable, but she tried to ignore the wave of irritation that rose up in her at the idea. They were built in the same era, but distinctly different styles. Plus, Badewood was a solid ten times larger than her own home.
”He's definitely the one to help you. I'm not sure I've ever had the entire tour, honestly,” Caroline said. When you grew up in a home, you didn't need the tour. She took a breath and made an effort to be gracious. ”When I saw him on Sunday he mentioned it had been a great experience. He learned quite a lot from your visit.”