Dear Emily,
Thank you so much for reaching out. I would be glad to put something together for you. If you could please fill out the attached questionnaire and include your thoughts on the cover, I’ll write up a proposal, which you can look over and let me know what you think, as well as make changes or suggestions. If you’re interested in seeing some of my previous work, please visit the link below. If you’d like to speak to a current client about her experience, Abigail Gold’s contact information is also below. I look forward to hearing from you and hopefully working with you soon.
Sincerely,
TLC
Was Sincerely the best way to close? I was starting to think I had a valediction complex, I was worrying about it so much. I wanted to come across as professional, but also approachable and fun. I thought for a second, held back from googling the list again, and changed Sincerely to:
Cheers,
TLC
I was careful to stick with my faux alias, just in case this somehow made it back to Tilly. She could be friends with this Emily person, for all I knew. I typed in the URL for my website, which was still a work in progress, and added Abby’s email address under “References” at the bottom of the email. I didn’t think Abby’d mind, especially since this whole thing was her idea. I also attached my brand-spanking-new client preferences survey for Emily to fill out so I could start brainstorming. My index finger hovered over the keyboard. I wished I had my keychain to rub for luck, but without it I crossed my fingers instead and sent my reply out into the ether.
I leaned back in my chair, possible cover ideas whizzing around my head faster than Katniss’s arrows. Just for grins, I pulled up Photoshop and fiddled around. After a while, the door to my room edged open. The smell of something warm and spicy hit me before I saw Blanche set a full bowl down next to me. She bent over my shoulder and looked at the screen.
“New project?”
“New client,” I whispered.
Blanche squeezed my shoulder lightly. “Am I allowed to say I told you so?”
I laughed. “I guess so.”
“So just one new client so far?” She leaned up against the desk, facing me.
“Just one. But I gave a bunch of business cards and pens to the PTA lady at the thingy last weekend. She actually looked a little impressed.”
“Good girl,” Blanche said softly. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you, Tatum. I think creating things will be good for you.”
My breath caught, and I struggled to respond. Her kindness was going to undo me. “I think so too.”
Blanche patted me on the shoulder again and left me alone in the room, my thoughts still churning like the spin cycle, but no longer about Emily’s book cover.
“Hey there, Mr. Blue.” I tapped on the glass of the fish tank. The brilliantly blue beta, named only as a preschooler could, swam lazily toward me, and even though his little fishy expression stayed the same, I imagined he was staring at me with disinterest.
“Cheeky little guy,” I said with a laugh. It wasn’t until I dropped some food flakes into the top of his bowl that he moved with purpose. “That’s right. Eat up, buddy.” I replaced the cap and put the food container back on Kate’s dresser.
I exited her fairy-themed bedroom—decorated in pink, pink, and more pink—and moved next door to Maya’s slightly more subdued blue-and-green animal sanctuary. The hamster, Princess Sweetheart, was asleep in her little plastic cave, so I quickly replaced her food pellets and changed the water. She never stirred. “Sweet dreams, Your Highness,” I whispered, and headed downstairs to fill Gus’s bowl.
When I’d left the house, Belén had checked the mileage on my odometer as promised. She entered the Schmidts’ address into her phone’s map app and told me I should add no more than six point four miles to the number on the dash.
“If you go anywhere other than their house, Tatum, there will be consequences.” She stared at me, using her full height, practically singeing my eyebrows with her judgment lasers.
“There and back,” I said, and saluted her. At least that part of the lie was true. As I’d turned to go, I caught a glimpse of her face wearing an unmistakable look of sadness. What was that about? Surely she couldn’t be feeling guilty about playing bad cop. I wanted to ask her, but by the time I opened my mouth, she did an about-face and clacked back into the house.
I was actually looking forward to the peace and quiet of the Schmidt house, just me and the animals. The worst they could do was scratch me. My house was quiet—sometimes it was like a tomb even when all four of us were there. Silent and also a little creepy. But this was different. Away from home, I could get actual solitude. A time to relax. Rejuvenate.
Animals fed and watered, I sat down on the cushy couch in the living room, sinking into the overstuffed pillows as Gus lounged at my side. Kate and Maya loved to make forts out of those pillows, draping them with sheets from their bedrooms and crouching on hands and knees underneath, pretending they were spelunking in a treacherous cave or deep-sea diving for pearls. They always made sure to turn on their play camping lantern, just the right size for adventuring in the safety of their own home. I missed them. It would have been fun to hang out with those ridiculous little girls this summer. Instead, their introverted pets would have to do.
I’d brought my laptop with me, hoping to get some work done on Emily’s book cover proposal without the worry of Belén or Tilly walking in and asking what I was doing. A little voice in my head was saying I should have told them the truth about pet sitting. There wasn’t really any particular reason to not tell them, since it wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong, but I didn’t want Belén to shut me down and keep me in the house any more than she already did. Now didn’t seem to be the right time to bring it up with her. Maybe later . . . when she wasn’t quite so mad at me over the whole “getting arrested” debacle.
Emily had sent me a vague idea for her cover—gears—and she’d also sent back the questionnaire, meant to help me figure out the best representative colors and style. Besides loving the obvious Doctor Who and Firefly, like all card-carrying sci-fi fans, she also liked Hitchcock movies and CSI, in all varieties and iterations. Emily was a mystery junkie. My gut told me starting with something in black and white might be a good plan.
I emailed her back.
Dear Emily,
This is really helpful, thank you so much. Could you send me a couple sample chapters or a synopsis of the book so I can make sure my idea will work?
Cheers,