Walking down the hallway that leads to Charles’s offices, Emma takes several deep breaths and tries to put a casual, everyday expression on her face. She walks into the outer office and there he is, sitting at her desk, her pages in front of him.
“Do you know the ending?” he immediately asks. He looks as if he’s gotten very little sleep.
“I think so.”
“Don’t tell me.” Charles looks down at the pages for a long moment, then crosses to Emma and takes her by the shoulders. “It’s extraordinary, Emma.”
Emma feels light-headed, as if all the blood has drained from her body and been replaced by a rush of pure oxygen. “You don’t have to say that.”
“How long have you been working on this?”
“About two years.”
“Have you taken writing classes?”
“No.” He’s looking at her so strangely, holding her shoulders so tightly. “I wrote in school. I won a story contest in the eighth grade.”
“When do you write?”
“Whenever I can.” Emma makes a small move to get away. “Shall I make coffee?”
He gives a little snort, as if coffee is the most insignificant thing in the world. He finally lets go of her and walks across the room, rubbing his hands together. Then he spins around. “I’d like you to finish it here.”
“What?”
“I want you to finish your book here.”
“But the job-”
“Your job description just changed. This would help me a thousand times more than all the answered letters and returned phone calls in the world. I want these two rooms to be charged with electricity, with creative fire.” He gestures to her manuscript. “This is the whole fucking ball game.”
“But, Charles…”
He crosses back to her and lifts her chin. His voice becomes low and intimate and warm, like… like a father’s. “Listen to me, Emma. When I was just about your age, someone helped me. I’d like to give it back. I don’t want you to think too much about what I’m going to say-I just want you to keep on doing exactly what you’re doing-but you have a gift, a wonderful gift.”
Emma feels a sudden urge to lay her head on his shoulder and have him stroke her hair. She wants him to take care of her, to guide her, to make the world a safe place, finally, at least for a little while.
“What do you think? You and me, these two rooms?”
Emma nods.
“Good. Let’s get to work.”