Patting the manuscript on his desk, he collapsed into the chair in front of the computer.
He’d called Jen every Sunday in the beginning. She flew down once, met a couple of his friends--other writers. He’d hoped to change her mind, convince her to take a chance in the Big Apple. “You could have stayed in Boston,” she’d countered. But that wasn’t true. Not with his hard-won residency with Playwrights’ House—an opportunity of a lifetime.
The visits became fewer, the phone calls less frequent. Busy careers. Busier lives. Both trying to make their marks.
But dammit! Five years in limbo was long enough!
He tapped the keyboard and composed an email to his friend, editor Steven Kantor. The man was doing him a favor by reading a manuscript not for publication. Steve wouldn’t earn a dime, even if he loved it. But maybe that’s what goosed the editor’s curiosity. He knew Doug’s plays—his emergence as a serious playwright—heck, the guys had been friends for five years, hitting New York at about the same time, both craving success and working non-stop.
“If you wrote it,” Steve had said, “it won’t be a time-waster. Just send it when you’re ready. Maybe I’ll learn something.”
A compliment like that couldn’t be bought. Doug gifted him with tickets to any Broadway show he wanted.
He skimmed the manuscript pages one more time. Then, attaching the electronic file to his email, he took a deep breath and hit Send.
It was time to let Jen go. Or find her again.
##
One month later—Boston
On a late Friday afternoon in May, Jennifer Delaney hung up the phone—
hopefully the last call of the day—and walked to her office window, amazed, as always, at how lucky she’d been. A wonderful career, great friends…not to mention the stunning view of Boston Harbor.
The huge investment firm where she worked suited her to a T. Helping to manage funds and advising clients about risk soothed their money worries as well as her own. Sighing, she acknowledged how ridiculous that seemed now.
Her checkbook, her personal investments were sound. She wondered why childhood scars were so hard to heal.
Losing loving parents at sixteen…unspeakable pain. But she’d survived. Her older sister and brother-in-law thought she’d thrived. Her younger siblings thought she was cool. Maybe she was! Regardless, they’d had each other’s backs from the beginning of those rough days and always would. She couldn’t imagine her life without them. Her life was good. Calm. Balanced. Like her checkbook.
“Just the way I want it to be,” she murmured.
Her phone rang again. Shaking her head, she raced back to her desk. “Jennifer Delaney speaking.”
“How are you, Henny-Penny?”
That voice. The receiver slipped from her hand and hit the floor. That warm voice. That nickname. Once upon a time…
Retrieving the phone, she said, “I’m well. Doing very well, thanks. It’s been a long time…so, how’s New York?”
“New York was humming along the last I saw it. And that’s the thing, Jen. I’m back in Boston now, and I’d love to see you. Any chance you’re free tonight?
The workday’s almost over.”
Back in Boston? Like forever or just a quick visit? Their parting might have been her decision years ago, but the pain afterward? She couldn’t go through that kind of heartache again, she decided. Better to bail quickly.
“Sorry, I’ve already got plans for tonight. But I hope you enjoy your visit.”
She disconnected and took a deep breath. She’d been polite, her voice steady.
Good job. When the phone rang again, she glanced at the readout, took another
—deeper—breath before answering. “Let’s blame a poor connection. I’ve got plans for tonight,” she repeated.
“How about tomorrow? Saturday.”
She gripped the receiver as though it were a life preserver. “Afraid not. I’m booked.”
“Is that right?”
“In fact, I’m looking at my calendar right now,” she said, with a quick glance at it, “and every day has something scheduled. I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta go.
As I said before, have a nice visit.”
Replacing the phone gently in the cradle, she shivered. A whole body shiver. She hadn’t lied. Her life was busy—and calm—just the way she liked it. She and Doug had simply drifted apart, following their own paths in their own worlds. At this point, she didn’t need any emotional upheavals. She studied her computer screen, and in minutes, she was once again Jennifer Delaney, happy career woman.
##
At five-thirty, Jen was surrounded by co-workers who’d become friends, all set to kick back and hit the clubs. That’s what twentysomethings did on a Friday night in Boston. And she loved a good time as much as anyone.
“I’m just about ready,” she said, smiling, as she logged out of her computer.
They stood outside her office door—two guys and two gals—all trying to prove themselves, but still believing the theory about all work and no play. Her friends
were certainly not dull. Not these bright, energetic, career-minded people. They were her friends for a reason!
She changed her high heels for flat sandals, grabbed her purse, rose and joined the others. “I’m hungry. Where are we eating?”
