Today's Reading
"Seriously, Katie." His voice softened, pricking at my conscience a lot more than the "boss" voice. "I want you to consider this. I really think it would be good for you."
For some reason, when I thought "editor," I pictured Dave, who looked like a classic fiftysomething, small-town car salesman, who was one of the best guys in town and lived in a white picket-fenced house with his lovely wife, two and a half kids, and a perfect dog.
Settled.
Older.
Which really was ridiculous because I knew it wasn't true. So why did the idea stick like a splinter beneath my skin? Well, it was not so much annoying as... uncertain.
And this was coming from Dave, who'd basically mentored me from a crummy writer wannabe to now. He was a good-hearted, smart man who cared about me and my professional future. I couldn't disregard his instincts or faith in me. Gran always said that listening to the people who knew us best was a sign of wisdom.
But... editing?
"I'll think about it." I pulled the phone close to my mouth. "But you have to promise I'll still travel."
"I promise—if that's what you want."
If that's what I wanted? Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be?
"Over the next few weeks, I'm going to send some articles your way to edit."
"What happened to me thinking about it?"
He didn't even take the hint. "This assignment in Scotland sounds like you'll have some free time, so when you're not rummaging up stories or cosplaying like a Victorian, then you can stretch those editing muscles a little."
"Dave, it's the Edwardian time period, not Victorian. I've talked to enough historians to know it makes a difference. And it's not cosplaying. The brochure states—several times—that it's an Edwardian Experience." Whatever that meant. "No lightsabers or hobbit cloaks."
"You still dress in costume for a few weeks and pretend to be in a different era."
Three weeks, to be exact—a fact that still felt a little weird. Since beginning the whole travel-writing gig, I'd been careful to keep all my assignments to a week, sometimes less. It reduced the mess. No hard goodbyes, no super-deep conversations.
But Mrs. Lennox, the creator of this new specialty holiday house, evidently had not only an extremely rich, overindulgent husband but one who held some surprising connections in the media world. So various available and quality media influencers from across the travel-writing community had received an invitation to join her on the Isle of Mull for a first look on how to "live as an Edwardian."
With a media preview, especially if the reviews were good, Mrs. Lennox could start her new business on a successful trajectory. Word of mouth mattered. And influencers, bloggers, online personalities, and magazines had a way of making a big difference in spreading the news far and wide.
"Besides, you're a big fan of all things quirky, and I think this place might be right up your alley."
Quirky? To be fair, anyone who decided to re-create an entire era for tourists possessed a unique passion and determination that wasn't exactly normal, but the way he said quirky raised my internal alarm.
I looked down at the phone in my hand, trying to decipher Dave's comment. "How quirky?"
"I guess you'll just have to find out." Dave's voice took on a chipper ring. "You live for the adventure, so I couldn't think of a better person to represent World on a Page."
"Dave?" My voice cracked slightly, even as my boss exuded confidence.
"I look forward to seeing your articles on this assignment, Katie. And those edits!"
Dave's avoiding explanation did not bode well for my misadventuring future. "Do you know something about this place that I don't?"
"Gotta run, Katie! Talk to you soon."
"Dave!" I frowned down at the blank phone screen.
Not cool! Especially after I'd just been mentally praising his good-hearted attributes.
I raised my chin and stared back at the horizon.
I could handle quirky.
...
