Chapter Three: In Which an Interview Goes Awry
Disclaimer: All rights to the Mother-Daughter-Book-Club series belong to Heather Vogel Frederick.
"Morning, sweetheart," says a soft voice in my ear.
"Huh?" I shoot upright from the couch where I fell asleep after getting David's voicemail and my head ends up colliding with something hard. "Ouch!"
"Jesus, Emma," David says, mock glaring at me while rubbing his chin. "How is your head so hard?"
"It's morning?!" I ask him, panicked, ignoring his comment. "I need to go get ready for work!"
I jump up from the sofa and am about to head towards the bathroom when a hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me back onto the couch.
"Relax, I was joking," David reassures me. "I thought it would be funny to say it was morning, but apparently all it did was end up hurting me."
"Karma," I tell him smugly, sinking back into the couch. Glancing around I see David has closed the curtains so all the lights from outside are blocked out and that the classical music I put on earlier is still playing softly. "But I was really worried there for a moment."
"Sorry," he apologizes. "I decided to come by after I finished filming. Can you believe I was on set until nine-thirty?"
"That sucks," I say. "Did you have something to eat after?"
"Yeah," he says. "I grabbed a slice of pizza."
"Oh," I reply, surprised. David, being an actor and all, is kind of a health nut and usually insists on eating only healthy food.
"I feel really bad about bailing on our dinner plans. Especially since you were planning to cook and all," David teases me.
I roll my eyes. Since my parents were on opposite ends of the cooking skill spectrum, I had a fifty-fifty chance of being a good cook. As it turns out, I'm still pretty good at baking, but I stink at cooking. David gets a kick out of it and can't help bringing it up on every possible occasion. Still, I forgive him because he cooks most of my meals. When he can't come over or is too tired to cook, I either order takeout or whip up something that is impossible to mess up like salad.
"Oh right," David says. "I almost forgot that your new partner was supposed to start work today. What're they like?"
I nod. I was only planning on telling David that I'd had a bad day, but now that he's asked, I feel weird keeping it from him that Stewart is working with me. Not that he'd understand why that's a big deal. When I moved to Seattle I kept most of my history a secret, only telling my new friends about my family and Jess. Speaking of Jess, she'd be the perfect one to ask about whether I should tell David.
But for now, I decide to be evasive so I answer vaguely. "Oh, yeah. My new partner showed up today. He seems like a hard worker." It's not a lie. I know for a fact Stewart is a very dedicated writer. "I don't think he'll slack off. I just had a bad day."
"Poor Em," David says, wrapping an arm around me.
We sit there for a while, reveling in the chance to relax until I become aware that rain is drumming on my window and that the clock on my wall tells me that it's past one.
"I should be getting to bed. You want to stay over?" I ask David as I stand and stretch.
"That would be great," he replies. "I don't think I have the energy to make it back to my loft."
I grimace sympathetically. David rents a loft that's a half hour train ride away. Even though it's considerably larger and better decorated than my studio apartment, we tend to meet up at my place since it's in a more residential neighborhood, complete with a grocery store, park, and coffee place.
"If you don't mind," David adds. "I'd love to take a shower."
I shrug. "Feel free. I might head to bed, though. I'm exhausted."
He kisses me on the forehead and I watch as his retreating figure vanishes into the bathroom. Wandering into my bedroom, I change into a pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. By the time I've crawled under the covers, David has come in, his hair damp and wearing a pair of PJ pants he leaves in my apartment for times like this.
"I'll make you breakfast," he tells me as he slides under the sheets.
"Sounds good. Can I turn off the light?"
"Mm-hmm," he says sleepily.
As I lean over to turn lamp off, a I feel an arm snake around my waist and I curl up next to David. The next thing I know pale light is filtering through my windows and the space next to me is cold. As I pad out of the bedroom, I run a hand through my curly hair and feel it get caught in the tangles.
David is standing by the stove, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Morning, sweetheart," he smiles at me.
I squint at him and then groan. "How are you so cheerful this early in the morning?"
"I'm just a naturally sunny soul," he says and when he catches my skeptical glance he laughs. "I've had two cups of coffee and a shower," he explains.
"Right," I mumble, shuffling towards the bathroom. "Maybe I'd better do that, too."
"Well, hurry," he calls after me. "I'm making oatmeal!"
An hour later I'm kissing David on the cheek as I gather up my things. "I'll see you tomorrow night for drinks with Janelle and Gabe, right?"
Since David and I have such busy schedules today, we decided to simply forgo seeing each other until tomorrow.
"Yeah," he says. "Now off you go."
I hurry out the door. The past few days have been damp and cloudy and gray so it's a nice change to see that the sky is a bright blue without a cloud in sight. Add that to the fact it's crisp and cool, it feels as though the whole city has been re-energized. I trot along briskly, my mood lifting each time I feel a cool breeze.
When I reach my cubicle I'm relieved to find that Stewart hasn't arrived yet. His desk is empty of all personal effects including the papers he was reading yesterday. I spy them on my desk, neatly organized with a bright green post-it on them.
Read everything over. Well written article, needs more statements, though.
I frown. It sounds vaguely patronizing as if I was a student and Stewart a teacher grading some of my work. Crumpling the note into a ball, I toss it into the trash can under my desk. No use in getting angry over something so early in the day.
Just as I'm checking my calendar on my phone to see what I have planned for today, Stewart strides into the cubicle. I'm annoyed to find he still smells strongly of cologne.
"Morning," he says, tucking his briefcase under his desk. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks," I answer shortly, apparently still a bit miffed about his comment about my article. "And you?" I add with some difficulty.
"Well, I'm not the new guy, so I'm pretty good," he says jokingly.
"Huh," I murmur absent-mindedly before glancing at him. "Good thing you're in a suit. We have a lunch interview scheduled."
"With who?" he asks, settling down at his desk.
"Isobel Wilcox," I tell him. "The secretary of Mr. Holcomb, the guy who was arrested for fraud."
"Right," he nods. "Oh, by the way, I read everything in the file."
I look at him coolly. "Yeah, I saw your note. Hopefully, Wilcox will be the last person we need to interview."
He has the grace to look embarrassed and I smile slightly. At least he knows I can't be told what to do.
At twelve-thirty, the two of us head to a nearby restaurant where I arranged for us to meet up with Isobel Wilcox. We find her standing by the front door, slouched and chewing a piece of gum.
"Hi, Ms. Wilcox," I say, offering her my hand.
"Just call me Isobel," she tells me, giving my hand a quick shake.
"Very well," I smile politely. "I'm Emma Hawthorne and this is my partner Stewart Chadwick. As you know, we're from the Seattle Times and we'd like to interview you."
She shrugs and the three of us head into the crowded restaurant where I find us a secluded booth in the corner where it's not as noisy. As we settle down in our seats, I take the opportunity to inspect the secretary. She's slight with long dark hair and wide set brown eyes which make her look younger than her twenty years. Despite her physical appearance, she looks bored and unimpressed by the fact she's being interviewed. Her eyes dart constantly between Stewart and me as if she's trying to figure something out and her hands are constantly toying with her phone, turning it over and over.
We make polite small talk as we scan our menus and when we finally place our orders with the waiter, Stewart decides to take the lead on the conversation.
"So, Isobel," he starts. "Did you work full time for Mr. Holcomb or…"
"I worked for him part time," Isobel replies, popping a bubble. "On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I was at his office from nine to two. The rest of the time I take classes at the University of Seattle."
"Had you been working for him long enough to notice—"
"Are you guys, like, together or something?" she interrupts Stewart, looking at the careful foot of space Stewart and I have left between ourselves.
"Excuse me?" Stewart asks looking taken aback. I can't blame him. I feel the same way.
"I asked if you guys are like, together," she says looking as though Stewart has just asked something incredibly dumb.
"Why would you think that?" I manage to get out. If this girl who barely knows us can guess about our history then I don't want to even think about how easy it would be for Hobson to figure it out.
"'Cause there's like a huge gap between you guys. Plus, you barely make eye contact and don't even really speak to each other even though you're supposed to be partners working together," Isobel says bluntly.
I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not sure this is relevant to our interview," I say carefully, wondering how I should get the conversation back on track.
"So about Holcomb's attitude—" Stewart says, obviously thinking that ignoring Isobel's comment will be the best method.
Isobel sits back in her chair and folds her arms defiantly. "Look, I'm not going to answer your dumb questions until you answer mine."
"Why do you even want to know?" I ask her, exasperated. "You don't even know us!"
She shrugs. "I just want to know. Anyway, you don't have to answer my questions. Just like I don't have to answer yours."
I tilt my head and study Isobel. I can see through her "bored girl" persona to someone who is whip smart and motivated. The only problem is that I never had friends like her so I'm not sure how to manage her.
Isobel stands, settling her bag on her shoulder. "Fine, I guess I'll be leaving now."
"Oh, for God's sake," I snap. Isobel's statement is crucial to our article. "Stay. I'll tell you about Stewart and me."
She sits back down looking smug and Stewart shoots me an uncertain look. I'm not even sure what I'm going to tell her, but I know I'll have to be convincing to satisfy Isobel.
The truth. It's been difficult to face over the years and I've done everything I can to run away from it, including moving across the country and making a new life for myself. It's crazy but I'm finding myself wanting to tell this sullen twenty-year old girl the truth about something I've kept from almost everyone, even my boyfriend.
I notice Isobel is watching me carefully and the look on her face as softened to something slightly less closed off. Stewart's grey eyes are calculating.
"All right—" I start.
"Emma!" Stewart butts in. "What are you doing?"
I frown at him before standing up and pulling him up after me. "Excuse us for a moment," I say to Isobel with a tight smile. I then haul Stewart to a dim hallway which leads off to the bathroom. "Just let me tell her the story," I hiss.
"Why?" he shoots back, crossing his arms. "It's none of her business! It's our relationship."
"Because if I don't have her statement our article will be a failure and then Hobson will have my head!" I tell him angrily.
He stares at me for a long moment before saying, "Fine. Tell her" And then with a hint of his humor, he adds, "Just make sure our article is good."
I give him a faint smile and lead him back to our table were we reseat ourselves. Clasping my hands I look at Isobel who is staring back at me. "So, Stewart and I dated in high school and then five years ago…"
A/N: So any ideas why Emma and Stewart broke up? To be honest, I still haven't figured it out myself. For the past few days I've been too busy to even think about FanFiction because I just started a new school and have been getting loads of homework so ANY ideas or suggestions would be great!
I'm not a fan of how this chapter turned out. It was mostly so you all could see how normal Emma and David are together and a peek at the life they've built together. As for the part with Isobel, I based her off April Ludgate from Parks and Recreation because Stewart and Emma need a reason to face their past. Their conversation will be continued next chapter.
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