Public Relations

There's a crowd of paparazzi swarming the entrance of HarborCrest Publishing House. I can see them from my office window, tucked in the corner. They've been out there since this morning, shouting questions at me as I shouldered my way through the horde: "How serious is your relationship with Maisie Rhodes?" "What's it like dating someone way out of your league?" "Is she embarrassed to be seen with you? Is that why she kept you a secret for so long?"

It hasn't been this bad until this week. Usually, there's only one or two of them, and once they realize Maisie isn't with me—and that I'm not all that interesting—they take off. But the last few days, there are at least fifteen of them out there, and I'm guessing it has everything to do with those pictures from New York.

There's a soft knock at the door that pulls me from my thoughts, followed by a voice saying, "Quite the crowd out there."

I swivel in my office chair to find Emilia, Gwen's sister, leaning against the doorway. She's clutching her laptop and notebook to her chest, wearing a white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted white jeans that flare just above her ankles, a navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. She looks like she's ready to go sailing, but then again, all the Caldwells seem to look that way. Emilia and Gwen share the same espresso-brown hair, hazel eyes, and dainty nose—they could almost be twins if it wasn't for Emilia's bangs.

"Hey," I say, adjusting myself at my desk.

"Nice office," she comments, glancing around the room.

"Thanks."

"You know I've been in Boston for the past four weeks," she says, her fingers skimming the spines of the books on the shelf by the door. She walks along the length of it before her gaze shifts to my desk, landing on the little snail planter and my Best-Tea birthday card from Maisie. "And this is the first time I've seen you around the office."

"Really?" I glance at the card, then tug my keyboard closer. "I thought you were just avoiding me."

"Oh, come on, August. You know I'm not that petty," she says, sinking into the chair across from my desk. She crosses her legs, her long, manicured nails drumming on the laptop and notebook in her lap. "I know you and my sister had your issues, but I wouldn't do that."

I nod, knowing she's probably right—the Caldwells have always been considerate in that way. "How are Caroline and Dennis doing?"

She sighs. "Oh, Mom's joined some conservation committee or something like that, and Dad's been busy replacing the running rigs on the sailboat. Supposed to take it out with him later today. They're fine." She lifts a hand, brushing her bangs out of her face. "Dad keeps asking Gwen when you're coming back—apparently, he misses having you around."

I peek up at her from the edge of my monitor, raising an eyebrow. "Is that why you're here? Did Gwen send you to check up on me?"

"No, I'm actually here for work," she replies with a tight smile. I tilt my head at her, unconvinced. "Okay, fine, and a little bit for my sister."