Page 21 of Unconventionally, Elle
"My whole family went to Yale. My brother, parents--all of us." She sat up straighter and crisscrossed her legs on the chair.
"Oh, cool, I didn't know you had a brother. Oh, wait, yes I did. You mentioned him in class."
"Yep, he's here too. Well, not at the magazine. I mean he's here in Boston." She laughed. "He comes around sometimes. I'm sure you'll meet him if you decide to freelance with us."
"Wait, I'm still new to this. Will I have to come into the office if I freelance with you guys?" I hadn't thought about going into an office, and it made my chest itch.
She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "Oh, no, no. That's not what I meant. Of course you can work wherever you want, but we leave two spaces open for any freelancers who want to come into the office and work. Especially if they want to chat with design or Olivia about something they are working on." Emma gestured in the direction of the cubicles we'd passed. "Where did you say you went to school again?" she asked.
"Oh, I went to Duke. But I'm an NYC girl at heart."
"Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about the city in class. So how did you end up here in Boston?"
"That's a very long story, actually, but in a nutshell, I'm taking a chance and hoping I don't crash and burn."
"Fair enough," she said, and then the phone rang. She picked it up, gave a quick "Mm-hmm," and hung up. "That was Olivia, she's ready for you. Let's go!"
I followed Emma into Olivia's office and was pleasantly surprised that myDevil Wears Pradaexpectation was the furthest thing from reality. Olivia wore a classic 1950s green pantsuit with dangling gold earrings. Her wispy short blond hair was perfectly styled, and her gray eyes revealed neither her thoughts nor her emotions. Yet despite her professional demeanor, she had a warmth about her. She could have been my mother's age, mid-fifties, and I felt myself wanting to trust her. I wanted to know her.
"Olivia, this is Elizabeth Watson," Emma said as we walked through the door.
"Hi, Ms. Hughes. Elle." I extended my hand to shake hers.
"Oh, no, don't call me that. Please, I'd rather not sound like I'm reading my obituary." She laughed, so I laughed as well, albeit nervously.
"Call me Olivia, please. And, Elle, I'm so pleased to meet you. Emma told me all about you and showed me some of your work." She motioned for me to take a seat, and Emma too.
"Oh, that's great! Thank you for taking the time to review it. What did you think?" Nervous excitement was bubbling in my chest.
Olivia smiled at me with a tiny glint in her eyes. "Well, Elle, I must say, you have natural talent. I was committed after the first sentence, and that's a tough feat when I'm reading a blog on skincare and another on pool maintenance." She pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh. "Emma tells me you are looking to freelance, correct?" She rested her chin on her fist and tilted her head to the side.
"Yes, that's correct." I looked over at Emma, who sat beside me in a leather chair. "Emma mentioned that your publicationhires freelancers and that I might be able to submit work for you, as well." I smiled confidently and Olivia smiled back in response.
"Of course, my dear, we are always open to freelancers who are interested in submitting their work. Whether or not their work is satisfactory is always to be seen." Olivia lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head toward me. "After reviewing the blogs you sent over, I certainly see potential with your writing. It's got emotion, and it draws the reader in despite the subject matter. Your voice is strong and unique. That can't be taught."
My cheeks heated; I hadn't had a compliment on my writing since my grandmother passed away.
"I have a proposition for you, Elle." Olivia picked up a small black book and opened it. She scanned the page, then looked up at me. "Cirque du Soleil is coming to town next week, and I need a writer to cover the event, and even further, write a piece about the significance circus fashion has had on street fashion." She stopped, and I felt the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
For the record, I knew nothing about fashion, let alone the circus or cirque.
She looked back at her book and continued. "I'll need the first draft within forty-eight hours of the show, then you'll get edits within another twenty-four hours. We are fast-paced and have strict deadlines since we are a monthly publication. Would you like this assignment?" Olivia's tone was firm yet kind. Sure, I was nervous, but this was my shot. And I wasn't going to waste it. I beamed with enthusiasm and lifted my chin, making eye contact with Olivia's misty gray eyes.
"I'll do it."
Finn Bennett was my unexpected new best friend. I'd walked into Align Studio to sign up for a yoga class, and he was behind the desk talking to an instructor. His kind eyes met mine, andafter an hour-long conversation that felt like five minutes, I knew he was going to be my person. Then he asked if I liked coffee, and the rest was history. He shared his favorite coffee shop with me, and our friendship was born.
Me:Meet you at the coffee shop?
Finn:10 minutes. Save our table?
Me:You got it.
I got to the coffee shop, ordered my lavender latte with oat milk, and pulled out my laptop. Research started now. Finn walked in with his yoga mat strapped over his shoulder and sunglasses in his hand. He was a strong man with an athletic build, and oh my God did he love his short shorts. When I met him, I told him his doppelgänger was Tiger Woods, minus the short shorts. They both had a rich, deep brown skin tone and confident demeanor.
He got his usual cold brew with almond milk and came to sit with me.
"Hello, my love," I teased as he took his seat.
