Although Halloween wasn't quite as awesome as the Fourth of July (which, in addition to featuring freedom, fireworks, and fried food, had the added bonus of being my birthday), it had always been one of my favorite holidays. Every kid loves walking around the neighborhood asking strangers for candy. Even when I outgrew the trick-or-treating, I still enjoyed the holiday because I could buy bags of chocolate from the grocery store and just let everyone assume that I was preparing for trick-or-treaters. The truth was, I was devouring most of that candy all by myself while I binged on bad horror films.

I hadn't meant to spend the past few days watching horror films, but I couldn't seem to find a time to meet up with Arthur outside of work. At first, when he turned down my suggestion to visit the San Francisco Botanical Gardens, I assumed that he was busy and shrugged it off. And when he declined an invitation to walk across Golden Gate Bridge, I decided that he was scared of heights or didn't like walking outside in the chilly October weather. But when he said no to a trip on the cable cars to Ghirardelli Square, I knew something was seriously wrong. Who could say no to cable cars and Ghirardelli?

There was only one explanation: while working in the horror division, Arthur had come across a cursed manuscript that had trapped his soul and replaced him with a pod person. Even though he looked the same, the pod person controlling Arthur had removed part of his personality. Only Ihad noticed the difference and only I had the power to rescue him by breaking the curse.

…okay, even I knew that explanation was ridiculous. Clearly I had been watching too many horror films lately.

Even though I hadn't managed to take Arthur on a proper date, I was still cheerful because I knew I'd have a chance to chat with him at our annual office costume party. This year's theme was Children's Literature, which I knew he would love. By the time October 31st rolled around, I had a great costume and plenty of candy to share.

Thankful as always for the laidback atmosphere at Golden Gateway Publishing, I grinned and nodded at my coworkers as I joined them in the large conference room around four o'clock. Gilbert was a mediocre employee with respect to his actual job tasks, but he had put an amazing effort into decorating the room for Halloween. Bats, spiders, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling, while bloody handprints covered the bulletin board. A doll with buttons for eyes stared at me from the corner. I shivered and walked to the other side of the room, where I was delighted to find a table overflowing with candy and sweets. I was pretty sure that Gilbert's impressive party-planning was one of the reasons we had never gotten around to firing him.

Tucking my wand in my pocket, I grabbed a chocolate cupcake with orange frosting and glanced around the room. I ran through my plan of attack for the party as I took a bite out of my spooky sweet. I wanted to check out the various costumes and I also needed to find Arthur so I could get him to admit that American candy was delicious. Unfortunately, I couldn't spot his messy golden hair anywhere. It was probably covered by a hat or mask.

Turning my attention back to the other folks gathered around the desserts table, I nodded at Bella in her Little Red Riding Hood cape and grinned when I saw Roderich in the same tuxedo and fangs costume he had worn for the past three years running. We had a betting pool for when he would finally get a new costume and it looked like my bet for 'never' was still going strong. The elegant vampire poured some red fruit punch into a wine glass and took a dainty sip. The rest of us were using red solo cups, but trust Roderich to ensure that even his glasswear matched his costume.

"You know, I don't think Bram Stoker's Dracula is much of a children's book," I said, my robes swishing as I joined him next to the punch bowl.

He shrugged imperviously. "It should be."

Roderich could come up with all the rationalizations he wanted, but we all knew that he was too cheap to buy a different costume when he already owned a perfectly good tuxedo. Personally, I thought he probably relished the opportunity to come to work in a coat and tails.

At the other end of the costume spectrum, Gilbert had done his best to blend into the crowd with a red-and-white knit cap covering his shock of white hair and dark-rimmed glasses hiding his face. But his red striped shirt and blue jeans made his costume obvious enough. With his boisterous personality, he was a bit too conspicuous to be a good Waldo from Where's Waldo.

A white-clad figure silently glided behind me, making me jump and nearly drop my cupcake. When I turned around for a better look, all I could see was a white sheet covering a body from head to foot. The costume's only distinguishing marks were dark cut-outs for the eyes and a painted smile.

"Arthur, is that you?" I asked tentatively, since the figure was slender and about the right height. If it was him, he had clearly spent too long in the horror department under Roderich's tutelage. Maybe it was a time to suggest a transfer to Elizabeta in the romance division.

"Ah, no. Sorry for startling you, Mr. Jones," the ghost apologized politely.

"Oh, hey Honda." I replied with a half-hearted grin. As much as I had tried, I had never managed to convince Kiku to switch to a first name basis. "Scary costume," I remarked.

"Is it?" He tilted his head to the side. "I was aiming for friendly."

"Don't let Casper fool you. There is no such thing as a friendly ghost."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Kiku coughed and changed the subject. He distracted me from the creepiness of his painted smile by discussing his next destination for his travelogue on the Best Places in the World to Befriend Roaming Cats. The editors were still working on a better title, but I agreed that the book would certainly sell like catnip. I made a mental note to make sure that Arthur had a chance to edit the manuscript. After our trip to Bella's, I knew it would be purrfect for him.

Kiku soon excused himself to go try the cupcakes, though I had no idea how he planned to eat one in his costume. I, meanwhile, filled a plate with some of the best candy bars and continued searching for Arthur.

I finally found him, clad in a wide-brimmed red hat, blue raincoat, and red rain boots looking like he was ready for a rain squall in the conference room. He stood quietly next to Elizabeta and Bella as they had an animated conversation.

"…don't know why they think adding zombies will improve the story," I heard Elizabeta say as I drew near. In her plastic crown and poofy red-and-black dress with heart designs, I easily recognized her as the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland.

"Maybe they think zombies will be the next young adult craze," Bella suggested. "Goodbye sexy vampire, hello sexy zombie."

"Hmm, I suppose Romeo and Juliet and Zombies would be an improvement in the genre," Elizabeta replied. Anyone who spent more than ten minutes talking with her about romances knew how much she hated that tragedy. Her gaze drifted my way and she nodded at me and glanced down at my plateful of treats. "Wow. I hope you haven't eaten all of the candy."

"Just the good stuff!" I said with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, we'd better grab something before Gilbert polishes it all off," Elizabeta remarked to Bella. For some reason, she winked at me as she and Little Red walked away, leaving me alone with Arthur.

He stared at me awkwardly, like he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Perhaps I should visit the dessert table too," Arthur suggested, avoiding my eyes as he slowly inched away.

"Wait! I need to figure out your costume first," I replied, blocking his path before he could walk away. Leaning in closer, I noticed a small tag attached to his rain coat. 'Please look after this bear,' it read, giving me the clue I needed. "Paddington Bear!" I cried in delight.

Clearly pleased that I had recognized his outfit, Arthur nodded and looked up at me from underneath his wide-brimmed rain hat with a proud little smile. "I thought it was appropriate. Especially since Arthur means bear."

In that moment, I had to resist the strong urge to hug Arthur like he was a teddy bear. It just wasn't fair for a 26 year-old to look so adorably huggable with his cute outfit and clever play on words! Did he know that I was a huge sucker for wordplay? I winked at him and grinned. "I canbearly believe how beary cute your costume is."

Arthur looked flustered, as if he couldn't understand why I was complimenting him. "It's only a few things I had around the house," he said modestly.

"No, it's great! It's better than my lazy choice of just buying a costume." I lifted my wand and gestured to the wizarding robes that I had purchased online.

"Obviously, I know who you are," Arthur said, examining my costume from head to toe. "But I always pictured you as more of a Gryffindor."

"Yeah, I'm definitely a Gryffindor," I agreed cheerfully, despite the fact that my black robes had a Hufflepuff crest on the side pocket and I wore a yellow-and-black tie beneath my sweater vest. "I just like this costume 'cause I don't have to wear a wig."

"Cedric Diggory?" Arthur suggested.

"Exactly! AKA, the only Hufflepuff guy anybody can name."

"No, that can't be right," Arthur replied, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. "There was… hmm…" he trailed off as he tried—and failed—to come up with another name.

Even though he had been a bit distant lately, Arthur seemed to come to life as soon as we began discussing the Harry Potter books and the different houses. It reminded me of how much fun I used to have talking to Arthur back when we worked in the same office. Smiling to myself, I shamelessly admired the way his eyes lit up with excitement and the fond smile that ghosted his lips. Picking a Harry Potter costume had been a brilliant idea.

"I mean, why would Hermione be in Gryffindor?" Arthur said, waving his hands for emphasis. "She's clearly a Ravenclaw!"

"How about you?" I asked. "Do you live with the brave at heart?"

"Oh, no," Arthur replied with a soft chuckle. "In my opinion, Gryffindor House has too many foolhardy and show-offy people. Look at Harry. How much suffering could he have avoided if he had just thought things through before he acted?"

I laughed because it was true. "I'm guessing you prefer the house of wit and wisdom."

"Precisely so."

Seeing the perfect opportunity to show off the tastiness of American candy, I grinned and grabbed a crinkly packet of Smarties from my plate. "Since you're such a smarty, I bet you'll love these," I explained as I offered them to Arthur.

"You have Smarties here?" he asked in excitement before taking a closer look at the candy. An expression of disappointment filled his face. "Those aren't Smarties."

"Uh, sure they are." I pointed to the label, which clearly said Smarties.

"No, Smarties are chocolate with a hard candy shell. These are… sugar pellets."

"You mean your Smarties are like M&Ms?" I asked.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, but better."

I sighed and rolled my eyes at Arthur's intransigent insistence on the superiority of British sweets. Recognizing that it would be difficult to get him to admit that the U.S. had good candy, I decided to try a different tactic. Nobody could resist a piece of candy delivered with a smooth one-liner!

"You know, I bet you'd like a kiss," I said, giving him a suave smile.

Arthur's eyes and mouth widened in surprise. But before he had a chance to respond, I opened the palm of my hand to reveal a caramel Hershey's Kiss.

"Oh." He faltered, laughing weakly. "The chocolate… of course." He pushed away the candy and shook his head. "I should probably get back to work."

As much as I admired Arthur's Hufflepuff-like dedication, I wished he was better at loosening up. "Don't worry about it! Everyone usually just goes home once the party's over so we can get ready for trick-or-treaters."

"Well, I should probably get ready for them myself," Arthur said, excusing himself gracefully.

My heart lurched with a surge of disappointment as he walked away. Not only had I missed my chance to give him the other American candy bars I had brought over for him to try, I also failed to uncover the reason why he was still acting so oddly distant. I watched him say goodbye to Roderich and felt a sting of jealousy as he laughed at one of his new supervisor's jokes with a relaxed smile. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why Arthur seemed slightly on edge with me, but perfectly normal around everyone else.

Not sure what any of it meant, I settled for hiding a few treats in Arthur's desk after he left. Even Arthur would have to admit that SweetTarts, Butterfingers, and Sour Patch Gummies were absolutely delicious. 'See how sweet Americans can be!' I wrote, leaving him a little note and hoping the present would bring back his lovely smile.


Our next senior editors' meeting started with leftover Halloween candy and—what was to me at least—a surprising topic of discussion.

"I know the budget is a little tight, but what are your thoughts on offering Arthur a permanent position?" Elizabeta asked. "With the holiday season coming up, I think now would be a great time to give our little intern a promotion."

"I have no objections," Roderich replied almost instantly. "He has been an exemplary employee."

They both turned to look at me, probably expecting full-throated approval. I had been quite fulsome in my praise for Arthur during his two months under my supervision. If they had asked me three weeks ago, when I was still his supervisor, I wouldn't have hesitated to recommend him as a permanent hire. But something in his recent behavior made me hold back slightly.

"He's an excellent editor," I agreed easily enough, because it was true. "It's just… has he seemed kinda distant lately?"

"No." Roderich shook his head and elegantly arched his eyebrows in surprise. "I find him to be very sociable. It's his only real demerit."

"Hmm." I bit my lip, thinking to myself a moment. Obviously I knew that Roderich and I had different standards for what we considered talkative behavior. But that wasn't enough to explain the increasingly apparent contrast between how Arthur acted with his new supervisor and how he acted with me.

It occurred to me that Arthur's behavior might have changed because I was no longer his supervisor. Perhaps he no longer saw a need to behave so charmingly when I was a simple co-worker instead of the one in charge of his assignments. Was it possible that Arthur was just a brown-noser who liked to please his boss? It didn't jibe with everything else I knew about him, but it did fit his recent behavior patterns.

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeta wanted to know after I took a little too long to respond.

I didn't want to poison them against Arthur, not when I didn't understand what was going on myself, but I also wanted a chance to see how he would handle the transition to a new supervisor. Would he suck up to Elizabeta and ignore Roderich? If he did, he would prove my theory and we would know better than to hire him. "I think we should wait to make an offer until he's done a rotation in your division," I told Elizabeta, who in turn raised a fine eyebrow.

"If I may," Roderich interrupted before Elizabeta could speak. "I think Arthur has proven himself sufficiently and I feel we should act now lest he pursue a more permanent position elsewhere." He sent me a look that was equal parts suspicious and dubious. "Arthur is a man of great skill and I think we should wed him to the company before he is sought out by another."

"I see, so Roderich wants to put a ring on it," Elizabeta hummed with a smile as she caught my eye. "Surprising. I would have thought that'd be you, Alfred." She winked as my mouth formed a straight line. "Still," she started back up again, looking between Roderich and me, before settling on me once more. "I think Alfred's suggestion is reasonable enough. Let's see how eclectic Arthur's skills truly are. He'll work for me for a month, and at that point we can reconvene and make a final decision." She raised a hand to tuck a brown wisp of hair behind her ear. "Hopefully if we're all in agreement by then we can offer him a permanent position just before Christmas."

Roderich nodded reluctantly in agreement. We moved on to other topics, but I spent the rest of the meeting musing over Arthur's odd behavior. Maybe I didn't know Arthur as well as I thought I did.

What did I really know about Arthur? Mostly I knew his tastes and preferences. I knew that he liked his tea with a bit of milk and no sugar. He always paused and smiled before taking the first sip. Seeing that smile every morning was the reason I kept bringing him a cup of tea. I knew that he would sometimes stick out his tongue while he was concentrating and that he preferred to make his edits in hard-copy because he understood the story better when he saw it laid out on paper.

"We should look into another supplier," Roderich said as he spread out a few sample sheets of creamy vellum paper. "These aren't the right weight."

"Uh-huh," I agreed absentmindedly.

I knew that Arthur loved to relax and unwind with crossword puzzles and crochet during his down time. He was the sort of gentleman who charmed old ladies and made friends with the neighbors' cats. I knew that he loved the weather in San Francisco and wished he had an outdoor area for gardening.

Even though he missed the comforts of home, Arthur was always eager to visit new places and learn about their culture and history. As long as you didn't expect him to program the GPS, he was an excellent traveling companion. He could chat about everything and nothing; he was also happy to sit in companionable silence. And even though he was quiet around new people, once you got to know him, he had a wicked sense of humor. I loved his deadpan quips.

For all Arthur's wit and charm, I knew that he was uncomfortable being thrust into new social situations. He liked order and stability—taking a job halfway around the world had been a leap of faith for him. To his credit, once he made a choice, he dedicated himself to it completely.

"There've been a few delays with the new manuscript, but I think it'll be a real blockbuster once we get it out," Elizabeta proudly reported.

I smiled at her. "That sounds awesome!"

But for everything I knew about Arthur, I realized that I had no idea how he felt about me. He wore his pleasantries like a mask, and I had a sense that he shared his true feelings with almost no one. How was I supposed to crack that shell when he barely had time to talk to me?

Elizabeta coughed and repeated a question that I had missed the first time. "Do you think you can handle the font purchase?"

"Of course!" I replied, flashing a smile that didn't match my mood. By the time the meeting ended, I was happy to return to my desk and have some time alone with my thoughts.

It was becoming readily apparent that I didn't know Arthur well enough to decipher his moods. Everything between us had been going so beautifully and now suddenly it wasn't. I needed some reason to talk with Arthur outside work so I could gauge what was really going on with him.

I'd started chewing on my pencap without realizing it, and at the same time my fingertips drummed a steady beat on my keyboard. What could I do? What excuse did I have to get Arthur out of the office? I racked my brain as my eyes wandered around the room from my marked up calendar to my dog-eared copy of Gatsby that lay forlorn and forgotten on what used to be Arthur's side of the desk. I picked up the book, if nothing else, just to savor a few words of wisdom, but there was no need. As I lifted the novel, my gaze fell onto something long buried and forgotten under half-read manuscripts and Twix wrappers. I realized that I now had the perfect excuse to meet. Something that Arthur was far too polite to decline.

When lunch time came around, I grabbed the ketchup-stained draft of my Revolutionary War novel and bustled off to find Arthur. He wasn't in the tiny kitchenette area. I tried Roderich's office next and found him eating lunch at his desk as he typed out a few emails.

"Hey!" I called, knocking on the partially open door.

Arthur's head shot up and he quickly clicked out of the email program before turning around to face me. "Yes?" he asked, sounding a little tense.

"I've thought about it, and I'd like to take you up on your offer to read my story," I explained as I handed a copy of the manuscript to Arthur. I had poured my heart and soul into my novel and it felt a little strange to just hand it over. But part of me wanted to share it with Arthur, even if it meant I was opening myself up to his criticism. I watched him closely to gauge his reaction.

He took it hesitantly and flipped through the first few pages before recognition filled his eyes. "Oh, right. The story about the bickering brothers."

I chuckled. "It's a bit more than just bickering. You still up for it?"

"Of course," Arthur said politely, still not meeting my gaze. He didn't sound thrilled about taking on another manuscript, but he didn't sound upset either. It was more like the neutral tones of someone fulfilling an obligation.

Despite my disappointment at his lack of reaction, I set up a place and time for us to meet. "There's a great tea house in Berkeley near the BART station. We could meet there next weekend once you've read it over," I proposed, knowing that for Arthur 'tea' was almost as effective a magic word as 'please.'

He finally looked up and I was surprised by the guarded look in his eyes. "I'll be gone next Friday through Monday," he said, sounding a little hesitant to admit his travel plans. "Perhaps the weekend after that? Your manuscript would give me something to do on the plane."

I perked up with interest. "Going somewhere fun?"

"Oh… no. Something's come up and I needed to pay a visit to my brother in London."

"Is something wrong?" I asked, suddenly worried that I was dumping extra work on Arthur while he was dealing with family issues.

"Nothing's wrong," he said carefully. "But I'd rather not discuss it."

"Okay. Well, I hope everything turns out alright!" I offered him an encouraging smile.

"Me too," Arthur agreed softly.

I would have offered him a hug too, but Arthur wasn't really the hugging sort. Which was unfortunate; he was a couple inches shorter than me and I got the sense that wrapping him in my arms like he was a grumpy little teddy bear would have been pretty enjoyable for the both of us.

We decided on a date and time for the weekend after Arthur's trip, and it occurred to me as I left Roderich's office that I had discovered the real reason why Arthur had been acting so detached lately. Thinking back, his strange behavior had started not long after he received a call from his brother while we were in Monterey. He had brushed it off at the time, but clearly it was something important if he was flying to London. I suddenly understood why he had declined all of my invitations. The poor guy didn't want to meet up for sightseeing when he was dealing with family problems!

As I returned to my own desk, I felt like a jerk for suggesting that we take a little longer to review Arthur's performance before offering him a permanent job. I was tempted to email Roderich and Elizabeta about my change of heart, but I didn't want Arthur to think that we were making the offer out of pity.

I sighed and buried myself in my work. There was another factor to consider: I probably wasn't the right person to make the decision on whether or not to hire Arthur. Not when I was so focused on wanting to hug him and make him smile and take him on dates. Giving Elizabeta a chance to work with Arthur directly meant that my feelings wouldn't sway the decision. With his skill and dedication, I was sure that Arthur would win her over in no time. We would make him an offer, he would choose to stay, and perhaps I would finally have a chance to take him on that date to Ghirardelli Square that I had been dreaming about…

In the meantime, I resolved to be a model coworker to Arthur. As much as it saddened me to cut back on my Arthur time, I didn't want to bother him while he was busy with other matters. We would have plenty of time for fun outings after his London trip.


Having spent two weeks giving Arthur a little extra space, I couldn't stop the ecstatic grin that spread across my face when I met him at the Downtown Berkeley BART stop for our meeting concerning my draft novel. As usual, he was a good fifteen minutes early. In my eagerness to see him, I was fifteen minutes early too.

I waved happily and he gave me a polite nod in return. There was something a little different about his expression, but I had to wait until he walked closer to figure out the change. Arthur seemed much less on edge. He met my gaze directly, and for the first time in a month, I thought I saw a glimpse of cautious optimism in his eyes.

"Did everything go well in London?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so," he replied, smiling slightly to himself.

"Awesome!" Relieved that Arthur was feeling better, I decided to lift his spirits even higher by leading him to the tea house a few blocks away. The décor inside was clean, modern, and very hipster. Fortunately for us, we were meeting early enough on a Saturday morning that most of the college students were still sleeping. We had the tea house almost to ourselves.

Chalkboard signs near the front offered a selection of teas wide enough to bring a smile to any connoisseur's lips. I went with the bubble milk tea as always. Even I loved tea when you filled it with milk and sugar and added sugary tapioca pearls to the bottom.

Arthur was of a different opinion. "I will never understand Americans' obsession with cold tea," he remarked as he spent a few minutes perusing the menu.

I laughed. "You might like the matcha latte. Honda says it's fantastic."

Arthur took my suggestion and over his protest I paid for both of us.

"You're helping me with my story. A cup of tea is the least I can do," I explained as we grabbed a quiet spot in the corner. Before I took a sip of mine, I offered it to Arthur. "Also, I can't let you leave Berkeley without trying some boba first. Their tapioca balls are amazing."

"Why would you put tapioca pudding in tea ?" Arthur asked as he gave the cup a dubious look.

I burst out laughing. "The balls at the bottom are tapioca, not the tea!" I explained as I pushed the drink into Arthur's hand.

Giving in to my prodding, Arthur took a hesitant sip. I could tell from his expression as he chewed the balls that he wasn't a fan. "It's interesting," he said diplomatically.

"I guess it's an acquired taste," I replied. I took back my boba and enjoyed a long slurp of the creamy deliciousness. Watching Arthur remove my manuscript from his messenger bag, I felt a stir of apprehension as I noticed his numerous markings in red ink. I knew that Arthur was polite, but he wasn't one to mince words if he thought a story wasn't worth his time. It was the moment of truth, and as eager as I was for Arthur's comments, I was also nervous that he might rip my story to shreds. I took a deep breath. "So… what did you think?"

"It wasn't at all what I expected," Arthur began slowly. He met my gaze with a thoughtful look and I was reminded of all the times that Arthur had praised a story's possibilities while critiquing its execution. "That was your intent, wasn't it? To challenge assumptions and show a part of history that many people probably had never thought about. When you talked about brothers, I never imagined that they would be slaves fighting over which side offered them the best chance of freedom."

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I did my honors thesis on black slaves and freemen and their reasons for fighting on both sides of the Revolution."

"I'm not surprised," Arthur confessed as he pushed the manuscript to my side of the table. "I've marked the portions that sound a bit too much like a textbook. I understand your impulse to fit in as many historical tidbits as you can, but remember that it's a story about people. You have to trust your readers will connect with history when they connect with your characters."

"Did you?" I asked. "Connect with them, I mean."

"At first they seemed a bit clichéd—the young idealist versus the older pragmatist. But when they started fighting and seeing the world for themselves, I think you did a good job fleshing out their motivations." Arthur collected his thoughts for a moment and I waited patiently for him to continue, eager to hear his suggestions. "The moment they met on the battlefield was quite moving. They both wanted the same thing, and yet it had torn their family apart. I think you made a smart decision—having one brother side with the Patriots whilst the other chose the Loyalists. It was much more nuanced than I was expecting."

I grinned. "You thought I was gonna spend the whole time pissing on the British?"

"Perhaps," Arthur acknowledged with a lopsided smile.

I shook my head sadly. As much as I loved my country, as a historian, I also had to acknowledge its many flaws. "No—when it comes to the way they treated slaves, the British Army and the Continental Army were about the same. They offered freedom to those who would fight for them, but a lot of black soldiers on both sides still ended up in chains when it was all over."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his matcha latte. "I can see why you wrote this story. It clearly means a lot to you."

"It's about the most American thing I can think of," I explained. "I mean, taxation without representation is pretty bad, but that's just a political slogan. These guys were literally fighting for their freedom."

"It's good to challenge the hypocrisy, but I think you might want to be more careful not to force the characters to speak with your voice. I have a number of suggestions for making the dialogue sound more natural."

I flipped through Arthur's comments and we discussed his ideas for strengthening the characterization and the dialogue. He freely admitted that he had no idea how people spoke in the 1700s, but I had read enough primary literature to have a pretty good idea. I changed a few places here and there to make it easier to understand for a modern ear.

"Of course, that brings me to my last comment," Arthur said as we reached the end. "I think your conclusion is far too happy for the subject matter. Having them find each other again and claim the farmland left behind from their loyalist owner seems too pat an ending. In reality, people rarely get everything they want."

"I know." I sighed. "I just… after everything I put them through, I just want them to be happy."

"Yes, but choices have consequences. They each chose freedom over family and I think that's how it has to end." He gave me a somber look. "Come now, you don't want to end it like the Harry Potter books. Lovely story, but such a saccharine ending."

"You know me, I love everything sugary." I laughed and held up what was left of my boba. Still, I made a note in my manuscript to consider having the older brother join the black Loyalists in Nova Scotia. I wasn't going to make him one of the slaves that was kept in bondage after the war in the West Indies, but separating the two would make it a bittersweet ending. "Thanks, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking the time to do this."

"It was the least I could do to thank you for accepting me for this internship," he replied. "I was stocking shelves and now I'm moving up in the industry."

"Totally!" I agreed, assuming that Roderich had hinted to Arthur about the likely job offer. He certainly seemed optimistic about his career. When we finished our teas, I insisted on taking Arthur on a tour of the UC Berkeley campus, and he was in a good enough mood to accept.

Even in November, the campus was still green and lovely, one of the many advantages of living in California. We walked side by side along the paved campus walkways. I showed Arthur the oldest building on campus, South Hall, and made sure to point out the tiny stone bear carved into a circular opening on the stone balcony railing.

"Oh my, he certainly looks comfortable!" Arthur said with a smile. He tried to take a picture with his phone, but it was too far away for a good shot.

"Yeah, they've got bear sculptures all over the place since the golden bear is kind of their mascot." I looked up at the clocktower, eyeing the massive bells perched near the top. "It's not as beautiful as Stanford, but it's still pretty," I admitted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were supposed to hate this school?"

"I know. It's just kinda hard to completely hate it when I grew up here. And it was a pretty damn good place to grow up. Berkeley has gotta be one of the most LGBT-friendly places in the world." I thought I heard Arthur make a brief choking sound, but when I turned around to look at him, he had recovered and was staring off in a different direction. Deciding it was nothing, I continued the tour. I pointed to the stone clock tower in front of us. "And that's Sather Tower. They call it the Campanile, don't ask me why."

"Probably because 'campanile' means bell tower." Arthur smirked. "I guess they don't teach you everything at Stanford."

"It's not as nice as Hoover Tower," I insisted, defending my alma mater against Arthur's teasing. "I mean, yes, our tower is filled with conservative assholes, but it looks really cool."

"Well, which one is taller?" Arthur asked.

I didn't want to admit that Berkeley had the taller tower. "Bigger isn't always better," I replied, blushing slightly as I realized how phallic our conversation sounded.

"It is when you're at the top," Arthur replied.

It took me a moment to realize that he meant the top of the tower. "Wanna go up to see the observation deck?" I asked, leading him inside as he tried to mask his excitement. We paid a few bucks each and rode the elevator to the tower's observation deck.

The view from the top was amazing, as always. The campus lay spread out below us and in the distance we could see the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco skyline. "Ooh, look! I can see my house from here!" I cried, eagerly pointing it out for Arthur.

He gave me an indulgent smile and sighed happily as he admired the vista. "The view from up here is truly breathtaking."

As we visited the other sides of the observation deck, I realized that this was my chance. Arthur was in a good mood and it seemed that his London trip had resolved his earlier anxiety. It was almost the same warm, relaxed feeling we had enjoyed on our earlier outings. Eager to test the waters a little further, I hoped that this would be the perfect chance to ask him on a real date. Arthur turned to give me a smile, with the wind whipping through his hair, and I made up my mind then and there. I was a brave Gryffindor, I could do it!

"Yeah it's gorgeous. Almost as nice as the view I used to get from my desk every morning," I babbled, trying to sound cool and mellow, but feeling like I was failing, badly.

"Did you used to work in an office with a waterfront view?" Arthur asked innocently, not comprehending, and I nervously rubbed at my elbow.

"Not exactly," I admitted, finding it pretty hard to keep eye contact with him. "I was actually talking about you."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise and his smile vanished. He looked like a man who had just walked into his kitchen and been propositioned by his toaster. "P-Pardon?" he stuttered, looking uneasy.

I winced. "Crap. I'm an idiot and you're straight." I kicked myself for assuming that a guy was gay just because he dressed snappily and liked cats and gardening and knitting. I could feel the regret start to build within me and quickly tried to backtrack. "Sorry for making things awkward."

"That's quite alright," Arthur finally relented, though his expression was still a little lost and confused. He certainly didn't sound 'quite alright.' "I just… need a bit of time to process this."

We rode back down the elevator in the most tense and awkward silence of my life. Arthur left for the BART station on his own and I watched him go with a gut-wrenching mix of guilt and remorse. He disappeared down the BART escalator and with him went any hope of salvaging the warm and friendly relationship we used to have. I fisted my hand, and my fingernails dug deep red crescent marks into my palm.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself.


A week passed in which Arthur and I, not so discreetly, danced around each other at the office. When I caught Arthur moving his small box of personal belongings into his new shared office, he looked away, and every time since then when I would pop into Elizabeta's office with a question or inquiry, Arthur would bury his nose in his notes. Liz, for her part, though she clearly noticed our odd behavior, didn't comment on it.

Not wanting to make it obvious that I was avoiding Arthur, I spent most of the week cocooned in my office with the door shut. The other employees seemed to get the message that I wanted to be left alone. No one asked me to join them for lunch, nor did anyone swing by to chat about the weather or how the Raiders did on Monday. As much as I was relieved not to have to answer any questions, it was also lonely spending so much time alone with my thoughts, double-guessing every moment I had ever spent with Arthur.

So I was definitely surprised when I got a phone call, bright and early Friday morning. I scrambled for the landline on my desk, with my coat still halfway on.

"Hello?" I half questioned and half greeted, pressing the receiver to my ear. Who could be calling me so early? Usually my authors didn't phone until at least 10 AM, and Bella in particular was notorious for calling me just as I get ready to leave the office.

"Is this Mr. Jones from Golden Gateway Publishing?" an unfamiliar and surprisingly British voice inquired from the other end. At least we were getting the easy questions out of the way first.

"Yes. Alfred Jones, speaking."

"My name is Veronica. I work for Pendleton Books."

"Pendleton?" I asked, "As in the British publishing house?" Why on earth were they calling me? Had Golden Gateway agreed to some kind of merger? I knew I'd been distracted at the last management meeting but I didn't think I'd been that distracted.

"Yes," she replied, continuing along, unaware of my inner confusion. "Arthur Kirkland is seeking a position as one of our intermediary editors and he's listed you as a reference on his job application. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about your experience working with him?" the caller wanted to know.

I felt a moment of shock. When had Arthur applied for a new job? My mouth went dry as the gears slowly started to turn. The trip to London… had that been something more than a family visit?

I tried to regain my composure, as the woman on the other end of the line waited patiently. Why did Arthur want to leave us? He'd seemed to be enjoying himself and his work, and I was sure that he'd wait it out until we offered him a full time position. But the more I thought about, the less I really knew. Maybe it was just me who was so confident that Arthur would stay, and maybe that was just because I couldn't bear to see him go.

The thought of giving Arthur a bad review to tank his chances briefly crossed my mind, but I immediately rejected it. After all the hard work Arthur had done for us, he deserved better. "Yes, of course," I recovered, faking a cheerful tone even as I felt my heart sink.

"How long have you worked with Mr. Kirkland?"

"About two months, as his supervisor. I've also worked beside him as a colleague for about a month now," I replied as I sat down.

"I see," the British voice responded, and I could hear the sound of tick marks as she likely noted that information down on a piece of paper. "During your time working with him, how would you rate his performance?"

I smiled half-heartedly to myself, remembering our great times together. "Arthur's a fantastic employee. Always shows up fifteen minutes early, takes work home with him. He puts in a lot of extra time to read through our backlog of submitted manuscripts and he's found some real diamonds in the rough. And that's of course, all in addition to him being a great editor. He's had experience with at least three genres and has done a great job in each one."

"I take it you would recommend him highly?" the caller asked.

"I would," I replied softly, subconsciously clutching at my knee, causing my pants to wrinkle.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Jones."

"You're welcome." As I hung up the phone, I stared blankly at the wall.

'Well,' I thought to myself. 'Now you've done it. He's as good as gone.' But as I closed my eyes, I wondered if that was really true. I might have botched my attempt at a personal relationship with Arthur, but there was no way I would let my personal fumbles harm the company by depriving us of a star editor. Feeling a rush of determination, I opened my eyes and picked up the phone again. It was time for an emergency senior editors' meeting. I sure as hell wasn't letting Arthur go without a fight.