Page 13 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

Toni

Early July was lovely in Virginia, despite the humidity. And since fall classes would be starting in a few weeks, Toni thought she’d use the quiet of the Independence Day holiday to move into her office a little early.

And escape thinking about being published.

The deal had been announced, and Toni was in revisions—which was surreal.

Having a stranger weigh in on pretty much everything about the book had, in all truth, made it a stronger book.

It was still hers, but now it had layers of nuance that made the plot stronger.

But that didn’t mean that revision hadn’t been overwhelming.

Toni had requested a rush turnaround, and her editor had accommodated that request. So they were onto a second round, tightening and tweaking, now.

In between, she was trying to resist emailing Addie. Today, she failed again.

From: History Toni

To: Addie

I’m completely safe. Work is just exhausting lately.

My boss wants me to attend some faux historical event for a work talk and…

I am not interested. Can you imagine me in a dress?

How’s the play? Distract me, Addie. I’m up to my eyeballs in work, and I would rather be in a garden with a beautiful woman than staring at papers and wondering why I thought I could do this job.

Toni

Toni wished she could confess what she was really working on, but Addie didn’t need to know that the “papers” weren’t academic articles or student essays.

It was the damnable book. She’d pushed back hard on the request to hold a launch party at Cape Dove.

The pictures of the venue made it look incredibly authentic, but Toni was adamant that dresses weren’t an option.

Ever. The last time she’d worn one was in her teen years.

She didn’t want to do any of the promo events.

She had no interest in talking about her process or ideas.

She wanted to teach, and she enjoyed novel-writing—but she was quickly learning that the book-promo events were like committees at the university: a painful necessity.

Today, though, Toni had a book dolly and several boxes of books for her office.

Atop it all was a lighter box of office supplies.

She had a home office, of course, but she wanted a few odds and ends—sticky notes, notebooks, pens, and the like—and research books at her campus office.

She’d been playing with a loose plan to keep the home office for writing and the campus for academics.

Compartmentalization was her superpower.

After swiping her crisp new faculty ID card, Toni stood just inside the door of her new building.

The history and sociology departments both had offices at Tulip Hall.

Luckily, history had the ground-floor offices.

Her office was standard fare: nondescript bookshelves, sturdy desk, rolling chair, beige file cabinet.

A whiteboard rested on the desk, either a gift or someone had needed the hanger it once was attached to.

The wall there was slightly darker, as if the light had bleached the surrounding paint.

She started stacking the boxes on her desk when she heard a gentle knock on her already-open door.

“Dr. Darbyshire!” A man stepped into view. “You’re early.”

“Dr. Ellis.” Toni smiled. “Overeager… or worrying that I’d get lost or…” She hated the way she had suddenly slipped into graduate-student mode, slightly insecure of her own place. She pulled her shoulders back and amended, “I like to be efficient. Coming in over the holiday seemed efficient.”

“That it is!” He held out a hand to shake. “We’re glad to have you, and you’ll get no complaints from me about wanting efficiency.” He chuckled to himself and then added, “I thought I already told you to call me Harold.”

“Only if you call me Toni.”

“Are you in a rush to unpack those, or want to join an old man for a cup of tea?” Harold asked. “I know my office manager… department memory… whatever the term is has some things with your name on them.”

“Tea breaks are an excellent idea.” She stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her and locking it. “I met Gabe already when I picked up my office key and ID badge. He seems to know everything about everything here.”

“The building is pretty secure as a rule,” Harold said lightly.

“Habit.” Toni wasn’t quite so trusting as to leave her door unlocked as a matter of habit.

She liked that the department head’s assistant-secretary–office manager was a man.

It spoke to a level of progressiveness she appreciated, but she was still aware that personal safety was always different for a woman—no matter how much she worked out.

“Gabe said you were in Scotland not too long ago. I’ll look forward to reading your paper.” Harold was obviously an attentive department head if he knew that already. He turned a corner. “Did you find a place locally already?”

“I did. Not close enough to bike, but close enough to run home if I forget lunch.”

Harold swiped his card and opened a door to reveal a comfortable lounge.

The sofas were overstuffed green seats. Coffee tables and end tables were scattered around.

On one side was a row of printers, a long conference table with eight chairs, and a cabinet labeled OFFICE SUPPLIES .

On the far wall was a matching cabinet labeled COMMUNAL SNACKS AND COFFEE .

On the far back wall there was a sink, refrigerator, and a counter with multiple coffee machines and an electric kettle.

“We have an embarrassment of snacks, coffees, and teas.” Harold opened a cabinet. He gestured to a full shelf of teas ranging from basic tea bags to loose tea. “Pick your poison.”

Then he went to a counter and flipped on the electric kettle. While it was heating he pulled out two mugs. “Honey? Milk? Cream? Sugar?”

“No, thank you.” Toni brought a tin of Assam over and took the tiny silicone manatee-shaped tea infuser Harold held out.

“Gabe thought they were too pun-tastic to resist.” Harold smiled and, in case she missed the humor, said, “It’s a manatee for your tea. The others aren’t quite as clever, but I appreciate this one.”

It hit Toni with a pang that this world made more sense than anything and anywhere else, and she blurted out, “I sold a book.”

Harold paused, dropped a tiny Tyrannosaurus Rex into his cup, and poured water into both mugs. “Subject?”

“Fiction, actually.” Toni shook her head. She hadn’t planned to tell him yet. “I don’t want the rest of the department to know.”

“Is it scandalous in some way?” Harold took his cup and walked to the sofa.

“Maybe?” Toni followed, at a loss as to how she could explain without sounding far more neurotic than she would like to sound in front of her department chair.

She set her cup on a coaster. “I sold it between Scotland and here. I signed the contract, revised it, and… it’s a real novel with my name on the cover. ”

He nodded.

“It’s historical fiction, a Victorian murder mystery about a lesbian detective,” she added.

“You are a Victorianist, and the novel was quite the thing back then,” he said supportively. “And your work is on lesbians in the Victorian era. I feel that I am missing some key detail here, Toni, to explain whatever is prompting the distress in your voice.”

She sighed. She had been wrestling with this since she’d said yes to the offer.

After more talking to her cat than any rational soul ought to admit, she had figured it out.

“If it fails, I’d rather not have an audience.

If it succeeds, I’d rather not have derision for writing popular fiction.

I want to be regarded as a serious academic, especially as I am junior faculty still. ”

Harold plucked the T-Rex out of his mug, set it on a tray, and pronounced, “I am not in the habit of sharing anyone’s personal business, Toni, but I hope you change your mind.

I didn’t hire the sort of professor who would write a book that failed.

You had your choice of colleges offering you a job. I am well aware of your talent—”

“At lecturing and research,” she interjected.

Harold shrugged. “I read your dissertation, and I have read a number of your articles. I think you’ll find that I am often quite right about a very large number of things, so why don’t we agree that if your book does well, I will receive a signed copy of it to display proudly…

and possibly crow about to the lit department, hmm? ”

Toni blinked at him. Where was the stuffy academic dismissal? The disdain? She’d braced herself for that, and instead he was looking at her like he’d just double dared her to do something. “Oh.”

He chuckled again, sipped his tea, and said, “Tell me more about this book of yours.”