My Lucky Groom

horrible new job of hers.”
    “Nanette,” Ventura warned. “It’s not that bad.”
    “But you said—”
    “What brings you to Capitol Hill?” Ventura asked, turning her attention on Richard.
    “I brought you a special delivery,” he said with a warm smile.
    He handed her an express mail envelope, and she checked the sender, seeing it was from New York.
    “Open it,” Richard said.
    She tore into the package and scanned through its document, unable to believe her eyes. “Is this what I think?”
    He shot her a proud grin. “It’s a representation agreement, from one of the best agencies in children’s literature.”
    “Whoohoo!”
    Nanette smiled broadly. “You, baby, are going to be famous.”
    “Well, I don’t know about that.” She glanced at Richard, not knowing what to say.
    “If you’ll give them permission to shop your work, they think they can make a deal for you. High six figures for the entire fantasy series. Ventura, do you know what this means?”
    She numbly shook her head, overwhelmed by the magic of the moment.
    “That you could write full-time.”
    Tears leaked from her eyes. “You mean, doing something I love? Like telling my stories.” That seemed almost too good to be true.
    “That’s exactly what I mean.” He reached up and stroked back her tears, and Nanette sighed loudly. “But first, you’ll have to sign on the dotted line.”
    “I’ll do it,” Ventura said, her heart soaring.
    Richard met her eyes. “I need you to understand, there are no guarantees. We’ll have to wait awhile and see what comes through.”
    “I understand that.” Ventura swallowed hard. “But what good is life if you can’t take chances?”

    For Ventura, the next few weeks didn’t seem nearly as dreary. She’d finally learned to make the coffee and had been given a few more copy editing assignments, which she’d handled well. It was good to see a light at the end of the tunnel and imagine her work at the Globe wouldn’t always involve darkness. The people were good here and helpful in moving folks along. Mary had already arranged for her to meet with an associate editor in the City Desk department, and he’d appeared impressed by Ventura’s credentials. Still, it was hard to fight the lure of fantasizing about a day job that allowed her to create her own worlds and let her spirit run free.
    She was sitting at her desk, working on an article revision, when her cell phone buzzed. She checked the number, seeing the call came from New York. Ventura held her breath, praying this was the call she’d dreamed of.
    “Hello?” she said, picking up.
    “Ventura?” It was Leon, her literary agent from Manhattan. “I hope you’re sitting down.”
    Her heart beat faster. “I am,” she said with a happy gasp.
    “Because you, sweetheart, are about to make us loads of dough.”
    Ventura squealed, and heads swung in her direction. She spun her chair to face the coffeemaker and lowered her voice. “What’s up, Leon?”
    “We’re talking a bidding war. A big advance. And if sales go as they’re expected to, maybe even film rights down the line, audio. The whole shebang. They loved that whole spiel about the warrior princess following a quest based on fortune cookies.” He blew a breath. “I hope you don’t owe anyone money.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because they’re going to come collecting on their IOUs.”
    Ventura blinked as the coffee dripped into its clouded carafe. “What are you saying?”
    “You’ll be making more moola than a twenty-five-year-old has a right to. Not that I’m complaining. I get fifteen percent.”
    “And you’re worth every dollar,” she said.
    “That underwater castle thing?” he told her. “That was genius. And the role reversals with the girls taking on the traditional male roles ? Yeah, that sold big. But here’s what I don’t get,” he said in his deep Queens accent. “How it is they’ve got Chinese take-out under the sea?”
    Ventura laughed happily. “You have to write what you know, Leon,” she said, grinning broadly. “Write what you know.”

    Later that night, she, Mary and Nanette sat around, drinking champagne.
    “I’m going to hate losing you at the paper,” Mary said sadly, “but in my heart, I’m happy you’re on your way.”
    Nanette grew misty-eyed. “And I’m going to miss having you around here.”
    “Nobody says I’m leaving.”
    “Come on, Ventura,” Mary told her. “We can see the writing on the wall.