“I have to be back in the city for a meeting this afternoon, but I’d like to stay if you’ll have me. Actually…” I stare back at Nelson in the car, ready to freeze his ass off while he patiently waits for me for the next three hours, and my heart tugs. “How about two more plates?”

  Mom smiles. “The more the merrier, we have a whole Christmas meal cooked that we didn’t eat yesterday…”

  “I’ll be right in.” I turn on my heels and hop back down the front steps to go knock on Nelson’s window.

  He rolls the glass down. “Yes, Miss?”

  “Nelson, would you like to join my family for lunch?”

  Nelson’s jaw positively drops. “Miss, I—I couldn’t.”

  A lot of convincing on my side, and stuttered, awkward replies on his later, I finally manage to drag Nelson out of the car and bring him inside.

  He’s a novelty to my sister’s kids and so the older ones all focus on him for a second, pestering him with questions. Is he a pilot? Sort of. Can he also drive planes? No. How old is he? Fifty-four. Is he married? Yes, to Judith, has been for the past twenty-six years. Does he have any kids? Three grown children and two grandkids.

  I note, not without shame, how I didn’t know many of the answers to those personal questions. The thought of asking him has never even crossed my mind before. Gosh, what an asshole I used to be.

  While Benjamin tries to convince Nelson to let him drive his car, I locate Fan and steal baby Tommy from her arms.

  Fan is so surprised by my cheery approach that she doesn’t realize I’ve relieved her of the baby until she sees me bouncing him on my hip.

  “Caroline,” she says, extending her arms as if to ask for the baby back. “Are you sure you want to hold him? Last time you ended up in the hospital.”

  “That was the ice, not the baby.”

  “What if he poops?”

  “Then I’ll change his diaper. A little poop never killed anyone.”

  “You don’t change diapers!”

  I smile at her. “Want to bet which one of us can do it faster?”

  She’s too shocked to protest further and lets me have her baby.

  I zig-zig through the various toys scattered on the living room floor and sit on the couch with Tommy.

  I’m busy rocking him in my arms when Nora climbs on next to us.

  “Auntie Caroline, how’s your head? Does it hurt?”

  I touch the bump in the back of my skull. “No, not too much.”

  Definitely not as much as my heart, I add silently.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  This is the longest conversation I had to date with Nora. She looks at me a little intimidated, so I smile encouragingly.

  “Is it true you work with books?” She promptly responds to my openness.

  “Hm-mm. Do you like to read?”

  Nora’s eyes light up. “Oh, it’s my favorite. Would you—would you—?” She starts and stops as if she didn’t dare ask whatever it is she wants to say. Guess she isn’t used to me paying her much attention the three times a year I visit. Gosh, I’ve been the worst aunt in the world. But that ends today. My nieces and nephews might be the only kids I’ll ever get to love and spoil.

  “What is it, sweetie? You can ask me anything.”

  “Would you read me a story, Auntie Caroline?”

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “Sleeping Beauty, but you have to make different voices for each character.”

  “Bring me the book and we’ll see how dusty my acting skills are.”

  That’s how ten minutes after I’ve entered my parents’ house, I end up sitting on the large rug with baby Tommy in my lap and a circle of three attentive kids listening to me as I do my best impression of Maleficent.

  Elijah arrives about fifteen minutes before lunch is ready and even if I don’t see him, I hear his shocked voice as he asks Fan, “Is that your sister reading to the kids?”

  I double concentrate not to mess up my lines while still listening to how Fan replies.

  “I have to google ‘personality changes after head trauma’ I wouldn’t know how else to explain this.”

  “The kids seem to love it.”

  There’s a pause and I can practically see Fan shrug.

  “As long as it lasts.”

  Okay, I deserve a little distrust. But the new Caroline is here to stay. You’ll see, family.

  Lunch is awkward at first. Mom expresses her distress by smiling too much and talking in a tone a few octaves above her usual range. Nelson is doing his best to appear inconspicuous, probably still unsure of his grounding. Fan and Elijah keep exchanging weirded-out side-glances when they think I won’t notice. Only Dad and the kids are oblivious to the others’ discomfort and are having a jolly good time.

  As for me, I’m having a blast with my nieces and nephews. I grab two sliced carrots and fix them under my upper lip, turning to Benjamin, growling. “Beware of the carrot monster.” Benjamin and baby Tommy collapse in a fit of laughter while Nora and Harper chuckle along in a more dignified, older-sisters way. “Eat all your vegetables, Benjamin, if you don’t want to experience my wrath.”

  Benjamin shrieks and makes a show of polishing off his plate. I sigh inwardly, imagining how Will wouldn’t have eaten his broccoli, carrot monster, or not. He had made plenty of progress on the eating front, but certain vegetables were still labeled enemy number one.

  Mom’s triple-layered chocolate cake doesn’t need any encouragement to be devoured by either adults or children, and by the time the meal is over, it’s with real regret that I announce, “Sorry guys, Nelson and I have to go.”

  The raucous protests that erupt from the kids are both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

  Benjamin in particular grabs on to my leg, pleading for another story while he rubs his eyes clearly ready for his afternoon nap.

  I pick him up and hug him close to my chest. “Next time I come. I promise.”

  I hand him over to my sister and she scolds me, probably thinking, don’t make promises you won’t keep.

  “Auntie.” Nora tugs on my sweater.

  I squat down next to her. “Yes, sweetie.”

  “When can we come to visit you in the city?”

  I do a mental review of my schedule. “Why don’t I have Nelson pick you up the day after tomorrow, and we can spend the entire day together.” I look up at Fan. “If your mom agrees.”

  Nora and Harper dance at Fan’s feet, chanting, “Please, Mommy, please, can we go?”

  Fan’s gaze sears through me. “Caroline, are you sure you can take care of three kids for an entire day, on your own?”

  I stand up. “I’m pretty confident,” I say, thinking of the past two months that only existed in my head but that still feel so real.

  “And you don’t have to work? No important meetings to go to?” she asks in a threatening “let my kids down and I’ll kill you,” voice.

  “I’ll clear my schedule,” I say.

  Fan nods in a way that says, “You get the benefit of the doubt, but screw up and you’re out.”

  I nod back in a, “I won’t” reassurance.

  Fan sighs. “Okay, kids! You can go!”

  Cheers erupt all around, and I mouth a “thank you” at Fan.

  The promise of a day out on the town allows me to leave without further protests.

  In the car, Nelson tries to claw back some boundaries as he asks, “Where to, Miss Wilkins?”

  “The office,” I say. “And, Nelson?”

  “Yes?”

  “I told you, it’s Caroline.”

  Twenty-one

  A New Way

  The offices of Wilkins and Marley are closed today. But our building, which we share with a couple of law firms, an investment fund, and a headhunting company, is used to dealing with workaholics and their on-holiday emergencies, so it’s open and staffed with basic security even during the holidays or at night in true New York fashion.

  When I step inside, the security guard, Edward his plaque reads, doesn’t appear at all surprised to see me. I’m a notorious holiday avoider and late nighter.

  “Afternoon, Miss Wilkins,” he greets me.

  “Afternoon, Edward.”

  The guard’s eyes widen at my response. I’m not sure if Manhattan Caroline ever even replied to his greetings. “How was Christmas, did you have a good time with your family?”

  “Y-yes,” he replies, astonished.

  A few more basic questions on my part are all it takes for him to grab his wallet and show me pictures of his five grandkids.

  “And what about you, Miss Wilkins?” he asks after I’ve admired and praised the beauty of each of his grandchildren. “Was your Christmas good?”

  “Yes.” I smile, feeling bittersweet. “These have been the best holidays of my life, and please call me Caroline, Ed, won’t you?”

  On the way to the elevator, I feel the guard’s stunned stare on me even after I’ve gotten in and pushed the button to the top floor. I imagine Ed staring at the moving elevator for as long as the spacious lobby allows and shaking his head in wonder before he remembers he’s supposed to be calling my secretaries to alert them I’ve arrived and promptly do so.

  When the elevator doors ding open, Annabelle and Debra are waiting for me outside, looking a little out of breath. As if Edward’s five-second delay forced them to run down the long office hall, which it probably did.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Wilkins,” Annabelle greets me.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” I interrupt before she can recite all the work-related info I’ve trained her to give me the moment I step out of the elevator.

  Once again, I ask both of them how Christmas went, make a little conversation, and request for them to call me Caroline from now on. They’re even more stunned than Edward or Nelson. As my closest collaborators, they aren’t used to any mollycoddling on my part.

  Both assistants are still staring at me with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression when I prompt Annabelle to go on with the list of info I need.

  By the time she replies, we’re already standing in my office.

  “Nothing much happened yesterday, the numbers for the last-minute holiday sales reports on How to Décor Your House like a Celebrity are extraordinary.” She hands me a printout, and I try not to wince at the book title.

  I don’t even look at the numbers I would’ve pored over with greed once, and merely ask, “Anything else?”

  Annabelle is too shocked by my attitude to reply, so Debra takes over. “Miss Marley has already arrived and is waiting for you in conference room Ophelia.”

  “What about Yashika?” I ask. “Is she coming?”

  “I’m here.” A panting Yashika appears on the threshold, leaning on it.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Did you run all the way from home?”

  “No, but I was visiting my parents in Maine and I only got your notification this morning so I had to rush back on two different trains and—”

  “Oh my gosh, Yashika, I’m so sorry,” I interrupt her and all three women gape at me. No one in this office has probably heard me apologize, like, ever. “I didn’t know you were visiting your family or I wouldn’t have called. Please, take next week off, and I’ll pay for your ticket to go back north. Now, shall we? I’d like you all to be present for the meeting.”

  The women exchange side glances that range from wary to shocked to incredulous and follow me down the hall.

  The Ophelia meeting room is our grandest with a long, rectangular table that can easily accommodate thirty people, glass walls at the front and back—windows technically—and a grand crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

  Ophelia is the room we use for all-staff meetings where the editors make their pitches for books they want to publish and anyone, from interns to secretaries, can bring forward an idea. At least it used to be like that in the early days. I don’t remember the last meeting where a book wasn’t pitched by a senior editor.

  Ophelia is an odd choice, considering I’ve asked Jackie for a tête-à-tête.

  My partner is waiting for me seated at the closest corner of the table—not the head—on the windows side with her back to the view.

  Jackie is wearing a cream wool suit with a pencil skirt and a cape jacket that makes a stark contrast with her long bob of straight licorice-black hair. The company’s lawyer, a thirty-something Persian Adonis, is sitting on her right. I more than suspect their relationship of not being strictly professional, but he has an uncanny eye to comb through overlong, tiny-written contracts and spot any potential traps, so I’ve never objected to Farhan’s position.

  Without hesitation, I pull the glass door open, and with a brisk, “Good afternoon,” I position myself on Jackie’s opposite side, facing the windows. The sun is already setting and its low glare above the horizon forces me to squint my eyes before they get adjusted. Did Jackie choose the positioning on purpose? Like an opponent army choosing its vantage point on the battlefield to blind the enemy. I also wonder when Jackie and I stopped being friends. I guess the more the company made money, the more we progressed from friends to business associates and finally partners who don’t particularly dote on each other.

  I consider making the effort of a few minutes of polite conversation before getting to the point, but Jackie Marley is the one person I can skip pleasantries with. She has always been a cut-to-the-chase kind of gal.

  “Afternoon, Caroline,” Jackie replies, taking in my casual clothes with predatory interest. And true to character, she promptly asks, “Do you mind telling us why you had to drag us to the office on one of the few days of the year we’re closed? What was so important that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “I’m sorry, did I pry you from the arms of your loving family…?”

  Jackie scoffs. “More saved me from their claws. I swear, if I have to listen to another Christmas carol I might start to wear ear wax plugs even during the day.”

  The old Manhattan Caroline would’ve agreed with her soundly. The new me, not so much.

  “Good,” I say. “And to answer your question, I’ve asked you here today because I thought we’d better be alone to discuss what I’m about to propose.” I gesture at Farhan. “There was no need to bring the legal department into this, by the way.”

  “I don’t know, Caroline, you call me out of the blue asking for an urgent meeting. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

  “Nothing sleazy, I assure you. On the contrary, you’ll be pleased with what I’m about to propose. And, Farhan, sorry if we’ve interrupted your holiday.”

  Farhan mumbles a “not at all” before throwing a side glance at Jackie that makes me wonder if they were already together when I called.

  I nod at him and continue, “Actually, it might be a good thing that you’re here.”

  “Please, Caroline,” Jackie interrupts, “the suspense is killing me.”

  “All right,” I say. “I’ve decided to accept your offer.”

  “What offer?”

  “The one to buy me out.”

  A collective gasp spreads across the room, and not even the usually impassible Jackie can hide her surprise.

  Jackie recovers faster and narrows her eyes at me. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.”

  She leans back in her chair, pensive.

  “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve been asking me to sell you my majority stake for ages.”

  “Yes, and you’ve always refused. What’s changed?”

  I tell her the truth. “I had a near-death experience which made me reassess my priorities.”

  Jackie chuckles. “Oh, Caroline, please don’t tell me you’re going soft on me.” Then her gaze turns shrewd. “And I know you too well, you’re not planning to strip yourself of all your possessions and become a Good Samaritan. You have something in mind.”

  “Yes.” No point in denying it. I want to make Rumpelstiltskin a reality, beginning with one store and then expanding. But I want my cake and to eat it too, as I plan to also be a publisher, but not for the rubbish we’ve been printing lately at Wilkins and Marley. “I’ll branch out on my own. We can both agree our partnership has gone as far as it could.”

  Jackie leans her elbows on the table. “You won’t be able to take any of our authors with you like we did when we left Bucknam.”

  I keep myself in check not to scoff. “Don’t worry, I don’t want them. But,” I turn to the three women sitting on my left. “I’d like to take Yashika, Annabelle, and Debra with me.”

  Their already slacked jaws dangle a little lower.

  Jackie regards them as if she was appraising a nasty bin of trash. “Oh, you can have them.”

  “Good,” I say, standing up. “Make me an offer. Give me your best number and Farhan can draft an exit contract. Our personal lawyers can review it, and the whole business can be over before the end of the year.”

  Jackie stands up as well. “You’ll have my offer by end of day tomorrow.”

  “Great,” I say. “I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”

  I exit the room, and my three minions scramble to their feet to keep up with me.

  In my office, I ask Debra, the last one in, to close the door and invite all three women to sit before my desk. “Don’t just stand there like fish dangling from the hook, take a seat.”

  They do.

  “Today might’ve come as a shock to you, but, trust me, this will be a great opportunity for you all.” I turn my gaze on my senior editor. “Yashika, you were right about the direction we’d been taking. Things will change at my new company. You’ll have complete creative independence and the budget to sustain your choices… except for your first novel…” Yashika’s face, which has been growing brighter the more I speak, crumbles. “I want you to track down Kendall Hick’s agent and make sure that The Yellow Window is the first book we publish.” Her smile brightens again. “I heard they had an option with an incredibly obtuse publishing house that let them walk, but we’re not going to be that stupid, are we?” I give Yashika a little wink. “Offer them whatever you feel is right. With the sale of my shares of Wilkins and Marley, I’ll have enough to cover it.”