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copy where I could reach it easily, just to thumb through it. It was the author’s first and only book. I reached over, almost involuntarily, pulled the book from the shelf, and felt its compact weight in my hand. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and got a little light-headed.
    I knew then that Malcolm was absolutely right about this being the perfect job for me. The author’s mind was certainly where the seeds for great books germinated, but this was the place where they began to bear fruit. Without this agency, who knew how many books would have remained out of sight forever. I replaced the book on the shelf and realized that I really wanted this job. I’d been detached, even equivocal, when I’d first walked in the door, but after being surrounded by this flurry of literary activity for only a few minutes, I couldn’t stop the flush of excitement from overtaking me. I wanted this job so badly I could feel my fingertips tingling with desire for it. I wanted—no, I
needed
Lucy Fiamma to hire me, and I scrambled frantically to come up with ways I could convince her to do just that.
    Lucy was off the phone. “I see you’ve been admiring some of our books,” she said.
    â€œOh yes,” I said. “
Long Shadows
is one of my all-time favorites. I
love
that book.”
    â€œYes, that was a good one,” Lucy said. “One of my first. It’s a pity the author only had that one in her.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “And of course you’ve read
Cold!
?”
    â€œOh, of course. It’s a brilliant book,” I said. “But you must know that,” I added.
    â€œHmm,” Lucy said, and rose from her desk. “Let me tell you a little publishing story, Angel. Since we’re discussing brilliance. Of course,
Cold!
is a phenomenal book, no question, and would have done well regardless. But do you know what really made that book work? In terms of
market
?”
    Several possible answers raced through my brain, but I settled for silence.
    â€œWhat did it, I mean
really
did it, was the exclamation point on the title,” Lucy said triumphantly. “And
I
am the one who put that exclamation point there. Indeed.” There was a new note in her voice, something like, if this were possible, flirtatiousness. I was dumbfounded as to how to respond, but had developed an instant understanding of her fondness for exclamation points. I smiled like an idiot.
    â€œRight,” she said briskly, as if snapping out of a trance, “let’s get down to this. I’m really running short on time now.” She sat down on the couch and patted the space beside her. “I’ve looked over your résumé and your experience looks pretty good, but my concern is that you haven’t had any direct experience in publishing.”
    â€œYes, but I—”
    â€œWhich could actually work in your favor,” she interrupted. “It means you have no preconceived notions about how things should work. Am I correct?”
    I nodded mutely.
    â€œOf course, in terms of
salary,
I’d have to take your limited experience into consideration. I’m sure you can understand. But let’s discuss salary later, shall we?”
    I couldn’t figure out if Lucy meant that to be a rhetorical question, so, again, I just kept my mouth shut.
    â€œI should let you know that this will be a very different environment than Blue Moon. As you’ve seen, we are very busy here. So you think you’d be able to juggle several tasks at once? Are you prone to feeling overloaded?”
    â€œOh no, I—”
    â€œWell, let me ask you this. Say you’re sitting here, answering the phone, and you get two calls at once. One is an associate editor at a small publisher you’ve never heard of who just wants to touch base with me. The other is an author whose book I’m about to sell. Say it’s
Karanuk,
for example.