Mistletoe Bachelors (17 page)

Madison stared through the dirty taxi window as she rehearsed what she planned to say to
Damien. Her email to him the night before had stated she was back early and needed to meet
with him first thing in the morning. She hoped her article would impress him, and he would
realize he’d been wrong not to have considered of her first to write it.
Choose your battles
. Her
mother’s favorite saying echoed in her mind. For the sake of her future with the magazine, she
decided to let the issue slide.

She took a deep breath as she stepped off of the elevator on the fourteenth floor a half hour
later.
“Come in Madison. How was the trip?” Damien didn’t look up as she knocked on his open
office door and entered the room. His desk was covered in pages of print requiring final
proofing. Her absence from the office these past few weeks put them behind on the editing. She
usually put in hours of overtime during deadline week.
“It was…” She searched for the right word.
Eye opening, wonderful, disastrous?
“Fine. I
met some wonderful people.”
Damien didn’t respond. His red pen scribbled across a cosmetic ad in front of him.
“I have the article.” Madison opened her briefcase. “It’s not the way we discussed, but I
think my replacement bachelor is better than the original.”
By a long shot
. The two men couldn’t
be compared. Madison held the article out.
Damien looked at her and leaned forward. He took the article and laid it on a pile of clutter
in his inbox. “Madison, I sent a backup story to the press an hour ago. I’m sorry but when I
received your email last night that you were back early, I assumed you hadn’t finished the
interview with Kurt, so I sent Meghan’s story to the press instead.” He glanced back down at the
stack of papers on his desk.
Madison’s mouth fell open. She didn’t know how to respond. Her knees felt unsteady, and
her hands shook. She couldn’t believe this. He had
expected
her to fail. All this time working for
the magazine, putting in hours and hours of overtime, helping to come up with story ideas, which
were always assigned to someone else, and accepting the worse writing assignment ever hadn’t
mattered at all to her boss.
When she didn’t respond, he glanced at her. “Madison, you are a wonderful editor, but
editors don’t always make for good writers. Stick with what you know you are good at.
That
is
the key to success.” He smiled and returned his attention to the ad. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind
grabbing a stack of articles that still need…”
“Damien, I quit.” Madison swallowed the lump in her throat. She refused to work for a man
who didn’t believe in her. She’d accepted the job as an editor for the opportunity to break into
print herself, and she realized that wouldn’t be a possibility
at
Women’s World Quarterly
magazine. This assignment had done nothing to further her career the way she’d hoped it would.
“Madison, be sensible. You don’t want to quit.” He picked up a stack of articles and held
them out to her.
She ignored them. “The fitness season is coming up Damien, better start looking for a new
editor.” Madison turned and left his office.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind her, she sunk back against the wall. Never in
her life had she made a hasty decision without thinking it through.
But what was there to
consider?
She couldn’t continue to work in a position that didn’t offer her the opportunities she
deserved.
She grabbed empty copy paper boxes from the storage room and packed her personal
belongings. Having made the decision to quit, she wanted to leave the office as soon as possible.
She cleared her bookshelf, packing away her collection of books on writing and editing. Over the
years she’d gathered quite the collection of reference materials. She prided herself on the fact
she’d read each and every one, soaking up new bits of information and helpful knowledge from
each. She left her quarterly magazine issues where they sat on the otherwise empty shelves.
She stood on her office chair and removed her diplomas from the wall. She placed them in
the bottom of a new box. She cleared the miscellaneous items from her desk, leaving just her
silver nameplate. By the end of the week a different name would replace hers. Her mail still sat
unopened on her desk, and a thin manila envelope toward the bottom of the pile caught her
attention. The familiar logo on the corner of the envelope made Madison’s heart thump louder
than anything else she’d experienced that week. A letter from the publishing company where
she’d submitted her manuscript months before.
Damien’s comment echoed in her mind.
Editors didn’t make good writers
.
Could he be
right?
Madison hesitated.
Did she really need more bad news this week
?
Unable to resist, she tore open the envelope.
Dear Ms. Grey, we are pleased to inform you
your manuscript has been chosen for publication
. The rest of the words swam on the page as
Madison read on to find out they were willing to provide her with an advance during the editing
process, and they were confident her book would sell. A senior editor had been assigned to the
manuscript, and her contact information was listed toward the bottom of the page. No doubt the
publishing house would be closed for the holidays, but she would contact her first thing in the
New Year.
Madison took a few deep breaths to compose herself and folded the thick paper. The timing
of the letter couldn’t be better. Moments before, she’d quit her job with no plans of what to do
next, and now her dream of becoming a published writer was coming true. Excitement bubbled
inside.
She picked up her box of items and hit the light with her elbow as she exited out into the
hallway. They were empty and quiet as she made her way to Samantha’s office. The marketing
and accounting staff had already left for the holidays, and Madison was glad to make a quiet, undramatic exit.
Samantha’s desk was pile high with work, and her phone was cradled against her shoulder.
Glancing up, she waved Madison inside. “Mike, you have to cut it out of his hair.” She rolled her
eyes. “If you wait until I get home, the gum may get tangled, and we are having their photos
taken with the Santa Claus at the mall tonight.” Her gaze settled on the box Madison held, and
she frowned. “Mike, I’m sorry honey, but I have to go. I’ll call you back.” She replaced the
receiver and stood. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed as she closed her office door.
Her assistant, Sophie peered over her cubical wall, intrigued.
Samantha waved her back to work.
“Quitting.” Madison set the heavy boxes on Samantha’s desk. She was dying to tell
Samantha about her manuscript acceptance letter, but she needed to deal with this part first.
“But Madison, you love your job. What happened in your meeting with Damien?” Samantha
sat on the corner of her desk and studied her.
“He told me he didn’t have confidence in my ability as a writer. He sent a backup article to
the press this morning.” Madison smiled.
“And you’re not upset?” Samantha gave her a puzzled look.
“No.” Madison shook her head. She would miss working with Samantha every day, but at
least her new writing schedule would give them time to have lunch. Something they’d always
been too busy for in the past.
“Why not? I’d be angry as hell.” Samantha wore a look of disbelief.
“I was
at
first.”
Madison
nodded.
“But
after
reading this
letter
from
Malcolm
and
McMullan’s Publishing House
, I feel much better.” Madison took the letter out of the envelope.
“Damien’s entitled to his opinion of my writing capabilities, I’m just glad M and M publishing
thinks differently.” Madison handed the letter to Samantha, no longer able to contain the
excitement she felt.
Samantha read the first line of the letter. Her eyes widened, and a smile spread across her
face. She finished reading and handed the letter back to Madison. “That’s wonderful. I’m proud
of you.” She hugged her. “We have to celebrate when you get back. When is that, by the way?”
“You know, I’m not sure. I
was
planning to come home after the New Year, but now I may
stay in California a little longer. I can work on the book there as easily as I can at home, without
distraction.”
As usual she had no reason to be at home.
She pushed the sad thought away.
Today
was a good day. Focus on the good.
“Don’t stay away
too long. I still need my yoga partner.” Samantha hugged her and
congratulated her once more.
Madison wrote her parents’ home number on a post it note and handed it to Samantha. “Just
in case.”
Samantha’s assistant knocked on the door and opened it. She popped her head inside. “Ms.
Grey, I have mail here for you,” Sophie said.
“Please have it sent to Kim in Human Resources. She can give it to my replacement.”
Madison said to Sophie. She suspected Sophie had witnessed the scene in Samantha’s office.
A look of curiosity appeared in the young girl’s eyes. “But this one is addressed to you
personally.” Sophie handed Madison a large, thick, white envelope. It had been addressed to her,
care of
Women’s World Quarterly
. “A separate identical envelope arrived for the magazine as
well.”
“Thank you.” Madison opened the envelope and pulled out its contents.
Samantha and Sophie watched.
Inside was an envelope of photographs. There was no letter attached, just a sticky note stuck
to the top of the pile.
Merry Christmas, little lady. I thought you might like to have these. Cole.
“They must be the photos he took of the bachelors.” Madison told the girls. She flipped
through the stack, and her mouth fell open. They were all of her making snow angels with the
Thompson girls, modeling Gucci, skiing in Whistler and dressed as Mrs. Cratchet in Tuscumbia.
“I don’t see any bachelors in those pictures.” Samantha peered over her shoulder.
“Wow, Madison those photos are amazing. Did he take any of anyone else?’ Sophie leaned
on the desk to have a better view.
Madison gulped and forced a deep breath.
“You have to go see him. He loves you, despite what you think.” Samantha wrapped an arm
around her shoulder.
Madison placed the photos back into the envelope. Tears stung the back of her eyes and
threatened to fall. “But I’m getting on a plane in four hours.” She wanted nothing more than to
go see Cole, especially now that she had wonderful news to share with him. He would be excited
for her and proud she’d stood up for herself with Damien, but she didn’t know how to face him
after everything that happened between them.
“And you still can, but you can’t leave without at least talking to him.” Samantha reasoned.
Madison hesitated.
Would he want to see her?
She hadn’t heard from him in two days. The
silence and lack of communication was killing her, and she missed him. She took a deep breath.
“You’re right.” She nodded. She had to see him. She couldn’t leave without knowing where they
stood. She prayed he did still love her.
“Here, why don’t you wear my new scarf and glove set.” Samantha handed Madison a dark
blue scarf and mittens. Tiny white snowflakes covered the soft fabric.
A month ago, Madison would have refused to wear anything reminding her of Christmas,
but now she liked the idea.
“Thanks Sam.” She hugged her friend. “Wish me luck.” She gathered her things.
“You don’t need it. He loves you.” Samantha smiled.
“I hope you’re right.” Madison didn’t wait for the elevator. She ran downstairs and pushed
through the revolving door of the building. “Taxi!”

Cole sorted through his camera lenses on his workstation
. Where was the 105 mm lens?
He
picked up his camera case and opened it. He rummaged inside and pulled out two different
lenses. Neither was the missing lens. He rubbed his scruffy chin. He needed a shave. Some sleep
wouldn’t be bad either. He’d barely slept in the two days since seeing Madison. An image of her
in Kurt Davidson’s arms reappeared behind his closed lids whenever he tried to sleep.
What had
happened after he’d left the party? Had Kurt talked his way back into her good graces? It didn’t
make sense
. He rubbed his temple. His head hurt.
Why had he agreed to do this photo shoot
today?
Work was the furthest thing from his mind.

The young
Miss Teen Manhattan 2011
sat on his sofa, giggling into her cell phone. She
couldn’t be more than sixteen and already her modeling career was booming. She shut her cell
phone and stood. “Are we ready to start? My boyfriend will be here to pick me up in an hour.”
She looked at the clock on the wall.

“Yeah, I’m just looking for a different lens.” Cole scanned the studio.
Where the hell had he
put that lens?
“I can’t remember where I laid it.” He placed his hands on his hips and frowned.
The young girl reached forward and pointed to the lens on the camera. “Is that it?”
Cole
rolled
his eyes.
Teenagers. Thought they
knew everything
. He wasn’t
that absent
minded. He would have remembered setting up the—the 105 mm lens sat on the front of the
camera. He cleared his throat. “That one will have to do.”
He positioned the backdrop and lights, and the young girl moved through the first set of
photos. Taking pictures helped to ease his mind, and for the first time in days he was able to
think about something else other than Madison. He snapped shot after shot until his cell phone
rang.
Madison?
He lunged for the ringing phone on his end table. Erik Johnson’s cell number
blinked on the screen. He’d left the
Gucci
executive a voicemail message that morning. He was
desperate to take him up on his offer. He couldn’t imagine taking any more jobs at
Women’s
World
. Not now. Seeing Madison and not being able to hold her, or kiss her would be torture.
More torture than not seeing her at all. He was grateful for this other opportunity. It would mean
a lot of traveling, but there was nothing keeping him in one place. The thought depressed him. “I
have to take this.” He waved the phone in the air.
“No problem.” The young girl didn’t look up from the text message she typed on her
iPhone.
Cole closed the screen doors to the studio and answered his ringing cell phone. “Erik, hi.”
“Cole, I was pleased to receive your message this morning.”
“I was hoping you were serious about offering me a job.” Work would be his only escape. In
two days he hadn’t heard from Madison, and he was losing hope.
“Of course. I have a meeting with the other executives set up for this afternoon before we all
take off for the holidays. I know it’s short notice, but would three o’clock work for you at our
downtown office?”
Cole glanced at the clock. Almost eleven. He caught a glimpse of his dishevelled appearance
in his toaster. “Sure, no problem.” He’d have to hustle. He heard the doorbell ring.
Must be the
girl’s boyfriend.
“The address is…”
Cole grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the information Erik gave him. “Great. See
you soon.”