MONDAY MORNING STARTED OFF CRISP AND BRIGHT. Despite the sun, my hands were cold as I rode my yellow Vespa the short distance to work, and I decided that I would need to pick up riding gloves for the cooler weather. Parking the scooter, I walked to the office with determination. My day would be full, starting with the interviewing of two hopefuls for the intern position. The job had been advertised in the Dunston Herald last week but had generated only two responses. I’d decided to interview the applicants back-to-back so I could compare the merits of each and hopefully hire one of them by the end of the day. There was so much to do to prepare for the Book and Author Festival that the agency desperately needed an extra pair of hands.
I smiled as I remembered how Bentley had hired me based on a quick phone interview. She, too, had been desperate to recruit an intern at the time. Until I joined the agency, Novel Idea had had a difficult time holding on to their interns because of the demanding workload and the necessity that they be booklovers, which was often not the case. I was determined to find someone who was a motivated bibliophile.
When I entered the agency’s reception area, I was surprised to see one of Trey’s co-op friends sitting on the leather couch. Doug looked very different from the last time I’d seen him, however. His dark hair was short and tidy, and he wore a pair of pressed khaki pants and a white collared shirt. If it wasn’t for his distinct bushy eyebrows and pale blue eyes, I might not have recognized him as the same young man who hefted bales of hemp, dressed in patched jeans, and tied his long hair in a ponytail with a thin piece of leather.
As I approached, he stood and held out his hand. “Good morning, Ms. Wilkins. I’m a bit early for my interview, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t keep you waiting.”
Interview? In my mind, I ran through the names on my appointment calendar. Doug Cooper at nine, Vicky Crump at nine thirty. I hadn’t realized that Doug Cooper was Doug from Red Fox Mountain and tried to cover up my surprise by shaking his hand enthusiastically. “Well, it’s good that you’re punctual. Give me a few minutes. I’ll call you in when I’m ready.”
In my office, I hung up my jacket and pulled out the interview file. Doug’s résumé didn’t mention the co-op as an employer, but he did give Jasper Gyles, the co-op leader, as a reference. Doug had one year of college under his belt, had done odd jobs at fast-food stores in Dunston, and listed his most recent employment as farming. Uncertain how he would fit into the agency, much less have an eye for sifting through queries, I wondered why he hoped to work here and why he was leaving the co-op. Seeing him cleaned up, however, gave me hope that one day soon Trey might also choose to withdraw from Red Fox.
Doug appeared bright-eyed and eager as he sat across the desk from me. I leaned back in my chair and studied him. “Why did you apply for this job, Doug?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, as if he was not quite used to the shortness of it. “I decided it was time to make a change,” he replied. “I’m done with the hippie thing, and the direction that the co-op is taking just doesn’t mesh with me anymore. I want to go back to college, but since I was kicked out a few years ago I kind of have to prove myself to be accepted back. So I thought, since you’re Trey’s mom, you might give me a chance.”
Dismayed at his expectation that our tenuous connection would land him a job, I hoped that he at least was an avid reader. “What kind of books do you like to read?” I asked.
“Well, not much, really. Do I have to read books to work here? I thought the job would be like an assistant or something, a gofer, get your coffee and stuff.”
I strived to make my tone kind. “Why would you think that? Did you read the job description in the advertisement?”
He shrugged.
“This is a literary agency, Doug, and it’s our job to sell books to publishers, so yes, you have to read books to work here. You need to know what makes a book good, what will sell and what won’t. We represent writers, and the intern is most often the first person to decide whether a query ever reaches an agent’s desk.”
“Oh.” He slouched in his chair. “I guess I’m not really a good fit for this job, then. I just thought…” Sighing, he stood up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wilkins. I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”
“You’ll find something more suitable, I’m sure. And I’ll keep your résumé on hand in case we need extra help at the Book and Author Festival at the end of the week, okay?” As I showed him out the door, I touched his arm. “You certainly clean up well. You look very professional.”
He beamed at that and descended the stairs with a light tread. I was disappointed, however. Now all my hopes for hiring an intern rested on Vicky Crump.
Her résumé looked promising. Ten years as a court clerk and a librarian for twelve before that. At precisely nine twenty-five, I heard her footsteps on the stairs and went to the reception area to greet her.
A petite woman entered the agency. Barely five feet tall, she wore a navy pleated skirt with the hem just above her knees, a white blouse, and a navy cardigan. Her silky white hair was parted at the side and held back with a bobby pin.
When she saw me, her eyes lit up behind her blue-rimmed glasses. “Hello. I’m Vicky Crump,” she announced with a strong, confident voice that made me want to stand a little taller. “I’m here for a job interview.”