When Estel landed in New York, she was shocked to see Henrick Larson waiting for her. As she peered at him above the heads of the crowd, she couldn't imagine how he had known of her arrival. Upon emerging from her room at Michael's home, and seeing that he had left the house shortly after leaving her room, she had taken advantage of the circumstance to ask Albert Jones to drive her to the airport in Aspen. She had been vague about why she had to leave, stating only that she had to attend to an "emergency" in New York. Her guilt about Michael was buried under the weight of the other feelings she was experiencing, and she accepted that it was simply another burden she would have to face. When she reached him, Henrick's expression was generally frustrated, but once he saw the stress in her face and the defeat in her eyes, he stifled his natural impulses and gave her a harsh hug. The moment he let go of her, he held her away from him, shook his head in exasperation, and moaned. "Damn it,
For the following two days, Estel did not leave the house and instead dove headfirst into her mind to figure out who she was and where she was heading. Though she was physically and psychologically spent by Sunday evening, she was generally pleased with her findings. No longer did she feel the need to berate herself professionally. In general, she was pleased with her output. This was something she'd always done. She felt no desire to explore other avenues, but rather a renewed commitment to excel at what she was currently doing. In a twist of fate, Michael should be credited with expanding the scope of that achievement's viability. He, not Peter, had been successful in convincing her of the value of literature outside of the genres she had previously regarded acceptable for publishing. She even found herself smiling as she thought back on her prudish past, wondering how she had ever thought she was qualified to be the last judge of everyone's appropriateness. Each book has a unique
A manuscript was left in the middle of Henrick's desk a few weeks later when Estel came into his office. He inquired, "What's this?" with a sluggish lack of interest. The magazine he was clutching in his arms depicted faraway paradise islands, proving that he had caught spring fever once again. He always said he would go away, but he never did. Instead, he just waited until his spring fever subsided and his normal level of energy returned. Estel sat on the edge of his desk, dangling a toned leg over it, and grinned up at him. " Michael 's book," she put it pithily. "It's ready to go to press." "Oh?" Henrick's eyebrow was lifted in a carefree manner as he attempted to conceal the curiosity that Estel knew was eating him alive. For weeks, she had ignored his prodding, refusing to share Michael's book with anybody. The process of editing it had been far too sensitive to risk discussing with someone of Henrick's confessed pessimistic attitude. "Is it any good?" he questioned, his tone i
Now, she focused on her work to dull the ache of disappointment that had settled in her chest, and she forced herself to ignore the dissatisfaction she felt at the words she read that weren't Michael's. She had finally found some peace when Henrick burst into her office. His craggy face lit up with excitement. He yelled, "Damn it, Estel, you've done it!" as he yanked her from her seat and gave her a bear hug. Estel was taken aback by Henrick's outburst of emotion, and she leaned away from him to cast a suspicious glance in his direction. "Have you been drinking?" she snapped at him. "Hell, no, I've been reading!" Henrick answered, unfazed by her dismissive demeanor. "And I've been talking to Michael." He ignored her puzzled look and sent her on her way so she could pace excitedly around the office. "I never thought he would come up with something like this," Henrick said with a laugh and a tone of disbelief. "I mean, I knew he could!" He continued his conversation with himself as th
Henrick Larsen stands over his desk, flipping through a manuscript. He glances up as James enters, a bright smile crossing his face. “Hello, Henrick!” James said in greeting, a wide grin on his face. “James! About time you showed up, buddy.” Henrick said excitedly! “Henrik! Sorry, I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic. How have you been?” James said smiling. “Never better. Now, let me introduce you to someone special.” Henrick led James towards Estel’s room. He knocked once and let himself in. Estel was focused on editing a manuscript at her desk. “Who's that?” James whispered to Henrick while observing Estel. “That, my friend, is Estel Bremmer, our brilliant editor. She's the one who works her magic on manuscripts, turning coal into diamonds.” Henrick said proudly. “She sounds like someone worth knowing.” James was impressed. Henrick strides over to Estel's desk, motioning for James to follow. Estel looks up, momentarily startled by their approach. She and Henrick had just
She had caught him several times looking at her plight with a stoic delight, which had the effect of making her feel sick. As she saw him lean down to kiss his current admirer quickly, she thought bitterly that Michael was proving to be a master at torturing people in every way possible. Every single thing that he said to her was intended to be hurtful, and every single glance that he gave her was scornful. He was wringing his pound of flesh out of her with a seeming lack of effort, and Estel had not yet mustered the willpower to deny him the gratification he was seeking. In due course, she will. She came to the awareness that despite the cloud of misery she was moving through these days, she acquired hope as a result of the revelation. It was the only thing that had allowed her to make it through this incapacitating event. She could not have done it without it. But she was not at that place yet, and she glanced down at her watch with depressing melancholy to see that it would be at l
Estel understood that his emphasis on the term "young" in his dismissal of Piers was directed more at her ears than those of Piers. On the other hand, it had the opposite impact of humiliating her dignity. As Michael pulled her away with him, she offered Piers an apologetic, lovely grin. Then she transformed it into a sneer as she was forced to follow along in Michael's wake. She snarled at him and said, "What do you think you're doing, Michael?" as he flung her light jacket over her shoulders and shoved her out the door. "What do you think you're doing?" "You didn't even apologize to the hosts for leaving early!" "Yes, I did," he said in a voice that was taut with rage that was under control. "I'm not quite the barbarian you think I am." She allowed herself to respond to him in a way that had a double meaning by saying, "You don't know how I think of you." She continued while in the throes of her own rage, "But wouldn't you have been slightly embarrassed if I had refused to leave w
It didn't take long for him to answer. "Everything you say is true, Estel," he said, without Estel being able to detect any softening in his tone. "But that doesn't change the fact that the child was mine." Since it was evident that you did not want it, you should have had the courtesy to inform me about it so I could take it and bring it up on my own. "And how was I to know that, Michael?" Estel said as she turned to see his rigid and uncompromising face. Her eyes glowed with the anguish and rage she felt."I didn't know you," she said with self-righteous indignation. "I'm sorry." And I didn't care for the parts of you I knew about. How exactly was I supposed to know that you wouldn't laugh in my face when you ultimately failed to live up to your responsibilities?" The response from Michael was softly implacable; he said, "All you had to do was ask," but you didn't. You just hurried to a doctor, and—" He cut herself off, the ferocity that lurked just beyond the surface of his civiliz